Would You Like Chaos With Your Coffee?

My mornings consist of three kids and a husband waking up at four different times, making breakfast at least two times, feeding the dog, emptying the dishwasher, taking a swig from the super secret bottle, making coffee, throwing in a load of laundry, packing lunches, blah blah blah. Basically, it's the same as every other mom, except maybe the coffee part. After all, some people prefer tea.

Some mornings go smoother than others, and the motivation to work through each glitch comes from knowing that eventually, for a couple hours, everyone is gone. Before I reach that goal, though, there are two things that are always guaranteed to happen: Zoe and Charlie will fight, and someone will snap at me.

Yesterday morning it started before the first bite of eggs was off his fork. "Knock it off, Zoe. Quit looking at me. You're being rude."

"I'm not looking at you. I'm looking by you. And you're chewing weird." Zoe doesn't believe in sugarcoating things.

"Just. Stop. Looking. This. Way. Then. Geeeez." Charlie said, while turning his back toward her.

"Now you're sitting weird and chewing weird. Hey Charlie! We're going to see Santa in one sleep! That'll be so fun!" We're really hoping that her short-attention-span phase ends soon.

After a few more petty arguments during which Zoe criticized her brother's ping pong serving skills and accused him of being "annoying," it was finally time to pile in the car and head to the Most Funnest Place In The World, also known as school drop-off.

I needed to deliver a bag containing three plastic shopping baskets, a giant box of noodles, four cans of tuna, and a shoe box (please, don't ask) to Zoe's kindergarten room. The bag was too heavy and cumbersome for her to carry, and I thought: "Hey! I have this useful sixth grader! He can carry it and Zoe will think it's really cool that her big brother is walking her to class! Now I don't have to get out of the car at drop-off and risk bumping into the VC!" When I informed Charlie of the chore I had for him, his expression didn't exactly radiate goodwill and a voluntary willingness to help. I reminded him that Santa's watching his crabby mood and taking notes, to which he replied, "Yeah. Mmm hmm. Sure mom."

After securing my spot in line for the minivan/SUV parade, I pulled up to the curb and waited for the kids to hop out. Zoe was the first out, followed by my carpool kids, and then...no Charlie. I turned around and looked at him, peripherally detecting the angry looks being shot my direction from the other drivers because: "I was taking too long to drop-off! Get going! What's wrong with you? Don't you know how the drop-off procedure works? Go! GO!"

After giving him a few seconds, I finally said, "Charlie. You have to hurry up and get out of the car. There might be a drive-by."

"I WOULD!" he snapped. "But my backpack is really heavy and I have this stupid bag of baskets and tuna and crap that you want me to carry, ALL RIGHT? MAN!"

I noticed that a few people were on the sidewalk wondering why in the hell I was taking so long, and I didn't think they'd be very impressed with my "scream like a lunatic while I hit Charlie with the bag of tuna" show. So in my best I'm-such-a-happy-mom voice, I said to him: "Get out of the car. Now. And this attitude of yours might just guarantee that you end up without any Christmas presents from anyone. In fact, I might just make you give some back from last year."

Silently, he got out of the car, and I'm sure he would have loved to have slammed the door on me. Unfortunately for him, though, I have power-sliding doors, so he had to settle for pushing the button with a little extra force, which doesn't really have the same dramatic effect, but still pisses me off.

Yes, They Get It

Watching your kids grow up is pretty amazing. Between mastering the alphabet, riding a bike without training wheels, getting on the school bus, and learning to not point at people while you laugh at them, a parent definitely feels a sense of pride.

An area of growth that is often overlooked is a kid's ability to identify great TV shows that incorporate a decent story line, great writing, memorable music and a little bit of dark humor. There is a lot of crappy programming created for kids, but with a little bit of parental influence, someday they will be able to choose shows that will make you proud.

A couple weeks ago when Zoe was sick, she rediscovered Dora, and basically the entire lineup of Nick Jr.'s mind-numbing shows. Although it's funny to listen to Zach and Charlie's MST3K-like commentary, we eventually had to take back control of the remote since a person can only hear "backpack backpack, backpack backpack, backpack backpack, gooey geyser, backpack backpack" so many times before they will voluntarily rip their own head off. And I'm pretty sure that a future episode of Max & Ruby will include a visit from Child Protective Services.

Lately, the kids have been watching classic episodes of Looney Tunes. I'm happy to say that even though they are seeing, on average, 526 acts of violence per episode, they haven't asked for anything from ACME, started carrying around meat cleavers, and they're not hoarding sticks of dynamite. Instead, they laugh at Porky's speech impediment and love to watch Bugs dress in drag over and over again. I, on the other hand, had forgotten how much I love Slowpoke Rodriguez. You gotta love a mouse that loves tequila.

When the WB started running edited versions of South Park, I was ecstatic. It was like South Park for Beginners. I don't let my boys watch the show without me, because first of all, I love it and don't like to miss it. But also it's a great opportunity to see just where their moral compass is pointing. Do they recognize the fact that it's not very nice of Cartman to always make fun of Jews? Or fat women? Or the handicapped? Or poor people? And that he's greedy, selfish, and rude? Yes, and even though they know he's a foul character, they know that he's funny as hell. They also know that he's fictional and if they were to ever act like that, I would be forced to make empty threats.

Zach is old enough now to watch a lot of unedited episodes of South Park, but I still watch them without him first, just in case. When I find one that I know he'll love, and he laughs at all the right spots, it makes me laugh even more. Also, it's a reminder of just how educational junior high is, and how important it is to remember...a teenager knows more than you think, and he knows why it's funny that the Jonas Brothers were spraying little girls with their hot, white foam.

Angry Eyes

After having kids in the house for 13 years, I have definitely dealt with my share of tantrums and public meltdowns. All of them, except one, have been executed by Zoe. She is independent, stubborn, outspoken, smart, and demanding. Someday all of these traits will help her kick ass. Right now, they just get her in trouble.

Her public meltdowns used to occur in the grocery store on a fairly predictable schedule. We'd make it through produce without any conflicts, but then we'd get to the bakery where she'd make the horrific error of picking an oatmeal raisin cookie instead of chocolate chip. Instead of just saying "Ewww, raisins" she'd instead hurl the offending cookie across the aisle and collapse into a sobbing heap. I would just stand there and ignore her, feigning interest in the hot dog buns.

When Zach and Charlie were little, I could actually say "I will not bribe/beat/scream at/swear at/threaten my child" and actually mean it. Zoe has made things a little trickier and as a result, I've had to rethink discipline.

Have I bribed the girl? Why do you think she has so many nickels in her piggy bank? Bribes have ranged in size from a roll of Smarties to small change to an overpriced plastic Schleich animal at Target to DVD's. No matter what child experts say, bribes work and I don't see a lot of lasting damage being done. When you want them to sit still in a restaurant, exit a store, or put their butt in a dentist chair, nothing works quite as efficiently and quickly as a piece of candy or a small toy.

Do I yell? Yes, but I try not to all the time. Sometimes, though, when dinner fails to cook itself, kids are fighting, the dog is barfing, and the weather forecast says 42 degrees and rain, I just need to yell. And sometimes, even when things seem to be going well and one little thing pisses me off, I yell. I know of a mom that was really not very happy the other day because she was dealing with an avalanche of misfortune, and while communicating her displeasure to her kids...she accidentally mangled the double stroller with her car. I can totally identify with this type of anger, and fortunately I just sold my last stroller on Craigslist.

Have I made threats I have no intention of keeping? Does "I'm pretty sure Santa will be leaving you a big pile of nothing this year" count as a threat? Yes? Well then, let's just say that threats have ranged from not taking the offending child on a family vacation to spending an entire day sitting on the naughty step. I may have even said "You know what, I think I'll just leave you at the bookstore." And by the way, nosy old guy wearing the Members Only jacket who gave me the look, I obviously wouldn't have actually followed through with it, at least not for more than a couple minutes. And don't stare at me with your mouth hanging open.

Do I swear? Fuck no. At least, not at my kids.

Do I spank? I will be honest and say that yes, the girl has received a quick butt swatt on the few occasions when she has completely lost her mind and is about to do bodily harm. Now, if you ask me whether I use a wooden spoon or a belt, I'll just say that if you walk around with a wooden spoon sticking out of your purse, waiting for your kid to be naughty, you may receive more than a few raised eyebrows. And please use the belt for what it's meant for, to keep your pants up.

Lately, the meltdowns have pretty much disappeared and the spontaneous rage is under control. There are still moments, like after sitting at a tennis tournament for 8 hours, that I can see her getting a little feisty. But in these cases, I can usually just flash her the angry eyes or grab her upper arm and, pushing my thumb into that little spot two inches from her armpit, definitely get my point across.

This morning I was telling her how important it is that she doesn't act insane or go out of her way to be naughty when her brother is babysitting. She said "Okay. Because otherwise I won't go to the Miley Cyrus concert. Or to the basketball game. Or trick or treating. Are you mad right now? Cuz your eyes look kinda mad." I guess she's catching on to how things are done around here.

When she figures out that the threats never stick and of course I'll take her to see Miley Cyrus, I can always take her DS away for a couple weeks. That is a threat that I always follow through on.