The New Girl

Tips And Tricks: Time Outs

As a Child Specialist by profession and a Mother by Luck and Fortitude, I espouse a Time-Out system of discipline/rule teaching.  Over the years, I have heard many misconceptions and misapplications of this kind of system and thought it might be interesting to write a post on the topic. 

Obviously, discipline methods are way personal and this is a sum of my own professional and personal opinions, based on a couple books* and clinical experience/parenting a [Toddler-Sized Wild Thing] strong-willed kid.  I believe that with consistent, emotionless application, this kind of system can work with a good percentage of typically developing kids. 

Disclaimer: If your circumstances are outside this example, I realize that it may not be the ideal situation for you.  I also realize that it may not be a type of discipline that YOU espouse and that's ALL RIGHT, sisters and brothers. I'm not trying to convert you or judge your methods. We are all Unique Disciplining Snowflakes (tm Jonniker) and I'm only putting it out there for those who might be interested in such a system or who are having difficulty implementing a system like it. AKA: I respect your right to parent your own kids and AM NOT JUDGING. M'kay? M'KAY.)

Let's move on.

The Basic Time-Out System that I'm talking about is a counting, '1, 2, 3-Time Out' system. The kid gets two warnings and then a Time Out for misbehavior.  The time out is measured minutes:years of age (although there's some debate about this in the clinical arena, for ease and convenience, I stick with it.)

Here are my tips/strategies for integrating a Time-Out System into your family.

1. Start Early
I started with TLNG around 18mos. This is too early for a kid to get [what the HELL you're talking about] the finer points, and so don't expect your Toddler to hop up into the time out seat and be able to articulate 'what they did' to get there.  Why do it then? Good question, you.  My theory is that, by starting early, you're teaching two important, fundamental, lessons automatically, whether or not your child 'gets' the concept of the time out in earnest. You're teaching that a) Actions have consequences and more importantly, I think, b) YOU MEAN WHAT YOU SAY.

(Aside: In parenting in general and discipline in particular, it is hard to overestimate the significance of your children knowing that you Mean What You Say. And kids are wicked perceptive, so you have to, um, Mean What You Say...almost all the time.)

(Aside 2: If you don't mean it, try real hard not to say it. Just saying.)

2. Choose Target Behaviors (AKA: Your BATTLES)
Sometimes, in an effort to get a grip on toddler tantrums or preschool defiance, parents will start giving time-outs (times-out?) for every little piggy over the line.  It is understandable and even logical that this would be 'consistent' and effective but in my experience kids (and parents) rapidly fatigue in this situation. It's impossible to be on top of EVERYTHING and frankly, kids who are CONSTANTLY being herded to the time out seat are more prone to rebel and get CRAZY.  Pick one or two of the most offensive behaviors to work on first.  Especially if your child is young.  We're making a point, here, not putting your kid in time out jail.

3. Try for Consistent, EMOTIONLESS Delivery of Warnings/Consequences
This can make the most difference.  Consistency is key. Once you pick the target behaviors, be clear about your expectations and consistently address them.  Also, if you are able to [do the hardest thing ever] keep a poker face and offer no emotion when counting/correcting behavior, I urge you to do it. If it's difficult [HA HA HA!] TRY. And PRACTICE. Younger kids are intrigued by your strong emotions and older kids can 'pull' for it.  Staying reserved and CHILL [again, HA HA HA! Good luck with that!] works best.

4. Set Audible Timer
Something that your kids can HEAR works the best.  This way, there's no guessing about how long they've been there or when they're done. (If I'm out, or in the car, I use other tangible ways for my kid to differentiate 'in' and 'out' of time out. In the car, for example, I turn off the music and we don't talk while she's 'in time out.')

5. Be Clear and Concise (AKA: Talk Simple Then Shoot The Fook Oop)
Resist the urge to [blahblahLESSONblahblah] lecture or keep talking when your kid is in time out. Ditto for when your kid gets out of time out. They aren't able to process all the lecturing anyway, so save it.  Give concise reasons for sending them and when they're out, you can have a quick re-cap and then let it go. (If it was something really heinous that got them there, you can have a little talk if you need to, just try to keep it short and simple.)

6. Be Consistent, Consistent, Consistent and The Same All The Fucking Time
This is a tough one for [me] lots of people but the investment that you make to be consistent will pay dividends later.  Especially if you have a *hem-hem* Spirited Child, as I do. Temperamentally speaking, some parents have an easier time being consistent and some children have more need of consistency but for all small kids, it is comforting and reassuring (don't expect them to THANK YOU for it, though. It's their job to test [EVERY FUCKING LIMIT YOU SET].)

Remember:

Time Outs are NOT meant to be punishments and/or Torture for Children:
I hear parents say, 'Time outs don't work for us because Johnny doesn't care...he likes it, etc.'  It's fine if your kid doesn't cry or gnash his teeth.  Remember that we're not beating him into submission. We're TEACHING and teaching anything, especially behaviors, is a long-term goal. Being consistent and continuing to apply a technique over and over will reinforce that you mean what you say and your kid will eventually get it.

Adjust/Re-frame Your Expectations:
Similar to above. Don't expect that a week of time outs will prevent your kid from sticking his head in the dog's water (or whatever.)  It takes kids a long time to be able to cognitively work backwards through a sequence--to figure out that he shouldn't put his head in the bowl because he will get a time out.  It's not actually a DETERRENT for a young kid.  It's a way to consistently apply a consequence and is a building block for future and further disciplining.  The repetition is key in any kind of learning. (Think of that frigging ANNOYING book that you have to your kid over and over and over at bedtime. Same difference.)

Misbehavior Increases Before It Decreases:
If you didn't start early and/or you have been inconsistent and/or your system of discipline is a wreck and/or nonexistent, you needn't fear.  Just be prepared, the testing may be [fucking brutal] more intense before it improves, as the kids will push and push and push to see if you'll give up.

(Mis) Behavior Cycles With Development:
Even if you are consistently applying this or another system of discipline, you will notice that the need for it waxes and wanes with your child's development.  As your kid's social awareness, cognitive and physical abilities increase and expand, there will be 'waves' of testing and trying out new behaviors. Because there is often a regression before a developmental leap, you may also notice that your child is going back to past behaviors that had been resolved. (Oh, that is SO fun when that happens. BAAAAAH!)

Be Flexible and Creative:
There are circumstances when a time out might actually be REWARDING (and thus, reinforcing) misbehavior (i.e. your kid doesn't want to get in bed yet and so the two minute delay is [just what that little sucker wants] not advisable.  Creativity in these times is key.  When that situation happens here, I use the 'my kid understands that I mean what I say' to my advantage and tell my daughter that if she doesn't come to get dressed for bed by the count of three, that she will only get two (instead of three) stories. (Sometimes she gets down to one but she's lost all her stories only once or twice.)

All right. There you have it.

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*I often recommend '1, 2, 3 Magic' by Dr. Thomas Phelan. It is an easy read, in lay language and is a great resource.

Updates And Such.

* The Company responded quickly, with a Sincere and Concerned voice.  There was an apology from the Quality Control Officer and replacement toys. There was also a UPS 'Call Ticket' issued (I had no idea such things EXISTED..am sheltered) and I put the toy in an envelope and sent it to her for 'investigation.' She said there is extensive colorfastness testing and I believe her and so I said that I wanted to hear back from them re: the investigation and then I would be happy to tell all the other moms I know (which means all of you, OBV.) that I am happy and satisfied, despite the initial situation. We'll see what happens.

* I didn't mean for the whole thing to have a top-secret feel but at the same time, I wanted to keep from shooting off at the mouth about the toy and the company in a totally negative way to the [hundreds] thousands of people who read this blog. Being at Blogher for Hashtaggate, influenced the way I feel about things like that--increased my awareness.  I feel like they deserved a fair shake, initially, anyway.

* I took The Boy to the GI specialist and it worked out SUPER WELL. I have to say that I had some trepidation about the meeting b/c the night before, The Man told me a story about a woman he knows who took her baby to a GI specialist and he advised her to stop nursing and start formula.

[Aside: before I talk about my feelings on this topic and people feel bent or hurt or like I'm judging--in case you don't know me at all, allow me to set the record straight beforehand--I have absolutely NO judgment regarding what you feed your own children, except for maybe arsenic or something (but even then, in small doses...) I mean to say, I seriously DON'T CARE. I don't. I have no inner *feelings* about whether or not you nurse or bottle feed or a combination of the two.  I have no *issues* with it and I really, truly, seriously COULDN'T CARE LESS. Okay? For REAL and for TRUE. Go with love, rock on with your bad selves, et. CETERA.]

[2nd Aside: I should say, that even though I don't care what you feed your kid, I really do care and feel upset WITH you if you had the situation of being told you needed to switch if YOU didn't want to.  I think that would suck.]

Anyway.

I don't personally want to stop nursing and start formula and my inner voice whispers, 'that's not really going to help' and although the Dr. has all the education blahblah, I still probably wouldn't listen to that advice but it would still make me uncomfortable to go AGAINST medical advice and then I'd have to go get another opinion, etc, riga-ma-role, etc.  And so, I was RELIEVED when the doctor was thrilled that I'm breastfeeding and turned out to be a breast-feeding advocate and so, it was a good match, is all I'm saying and it made me feel lighter and happier and more hopeful about our situation. He also doesn't like to call it Reflux b/c it is just an immature closure at the bottom of the esophagus and it will mature and then all this will stop and I knew that but it was still nice to hear.

* He also changed the medicine from a BITTER MINTY FLAVOR (what the FUCK is with that, Baby Meds?) to something brand name ($2 more for me) but cherry-ish and The Boy is actually taking it into his body, instead of spitting it all over ME and so it's doing some good.  And (crosses fingers) it's actually WORKING (knock wood.) He's sleeping better and laughing and cooing and he's just, well, he's adorable, really. That's what he is and it' nice to feel THAT way for a minute.  So far, it's the best $2 I've EVER SPENT.

* I'm mildly irritated when people say the year 'Twenty-Ten' instead of 'Two Thousand and Ten.'  I am aware that I have to get over it, though, because it's here to stay.  I know it.  It's going to be 'Twenty-Eleven' and 'Twenty-Twelve' and basically, until I die, people are going to be saying the year this way.

* I was also annoyed (way MORE annoyed, really) with people who said the date of the attack on the World Trade Center as 'Nine-One-One.' THAT SHIT didn't even make SENSE, yo. The date was the ELEVENTH. Not the 'One-Oneth.'  Apparently, I'm still not over it.

* I am reading The Help for The Best Ever Book Club and I really love it.  I am finding it hard in a way, though, to be LOST in the world of the book and then RESURFACE into my own life when duty calls.  When the kids wake up or need something or whatever.  I'm all like, 'Just ONE MORE PAGE...' and it is a little challenging in that way.  It's nice, too, to be reading again.

* I have started to exercise again.  I'm trying.  I made The Man pull the treadmill out into TLNG's  play room in the basement so I can see the TV (till we get one in the gym room.)  My goal is to get COMFORTABLY back into my old clothes again, before the end of this year.  I'm thinking that's realistic but it's going to be slow going, I think. I'm WICKED out of shape.

Turns Out, She Might Be A One-Upper.

So, her brother's blue?

She prefers black. Oh, the Teen Years should be FUN.

Little Boy Blue.

I was walking through a book store, getting 'The Help' for my participation in the Awesomest Ever Book Club.  I was pushing The Boy in his car seat + a snap and go, and looking at shelf after shelf.  The Boy was happy and was playing with his baby toy.  When you're pushing a baby in a rear-facing car seat, you have ample opportunity to, uh, SEE him.  So, I look at him (playing with toy,) look at the shelves (can't find the book ANY FUCKING WHERE,) glance back at him and FREEZE IN HORROR.

WTF?

My boy's face, tongue and hands were COVERED in COBALT BLUE DYE.

Whaaa?

That's what I said.

Covered.

I was so shocked, I stood there for a second, trying to figure out how he'd gotten his hands on a blue slushy without my knowing.  I pulled the toy away from him and found that the ink on the tag had bled (from his SALIVA because he's a BABY and babies put EVERYTHING into their mouths and I'd assumed that a BABY TOY MANUFACTURER would've GOTTEN THE FUCKING MEMO on that one.)

I took out a wipe and started to (try to) clean up the mess, only to find that the dye was not only water (saliva) soluble, but also STAINING (of course it was.) So, my kid's hands and face stayed blue, as did my hands (and shirt, somehow, wtf?) And when the Electric Blue Shock wore off and he didn't go into The Anaphylaxsis, I started to get pissed.

Now, I am usually cool and collected when it comes to the bumps and bruises and what-not that happen to kids while they're trying to strike their very own Deal with Gravity. TLNG fell down the steps the other day and bit her tongue something fierce and I didn't lose my shit (or write a blog post about it.) But will all the fucked up shit that's been in our toys these days, I just couldn't IMAGINE that there would've been such an oversight on the part of a brand that specifically makes toys for infants.

I got home, called Poison Control (Hi Pharmacist Anthony!) just to be sure and then I fired off an email (fair and balanced and un-hysterical--SWEAR) to the company. And to the PR contact listed under 'press inquiries.'  Because if there's anything I've learned from blogging and being in the company of business-type go-getters and social media mavens (HA!) it's the Power of The PR.

I got an email back from the PR person that same day (on a Sunday morning--getting shit DONE, my sister was) and she ensured proper-person reception at the company.  I am hopeful that I'll hear something that will reassure me. So, we'll wait and see what says the company.  And then I'll let you know either way. 

Because although I KNOW it wasn't the BIGGEST deal in the world and he's fine, fine, FINE, it was still my little 3 month old baby.

Who ate and was stained with nasty blue dye.

And that's just not okay with me.

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After REPEATED wipings with the cloth

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How It Goes.

I was at work and I was talking to someone who told me they went to see Avatar. I told them that I heard (read, on Twitter, but I don't tell THEM that, so you all become 'people I know,' etc.) that the promo was misleading and that the movie was very good.

'It was great,' She said. 'Who directed it, again?' I asked. She couldn't remember. 'Isn't his name just very easy, plain?' she said. 'I don't remember,' I answered.

And then I thought of this guy I know, the husband of a colleague, whose name is Joe Smith.  His wife and I have had a couple conversations about how he has trouble making reservations sometimes because people don't believe him, they think he's faking. 'Who would do that to a kid?' She says.

Later, I was driving home, after I got an ominous text that read 'No Nap,' referring to The Toddler.  On NPR was an investigative reporter who wrote a series called, 'Disposable Army' about civilian contractors who get hurt or killed helping to fight the two wars in which this country is engaged.  He was talking about how the insurance companies are basically getting paid for nothing and that there's no network or support for these people.  Half of all claims are initially denied.  And it made me think of insurance and how I really, really sometimes feel like it's SUCH a RACKET.

And then I got home and The Toddler was still awake (shocking!) and I sang her lullabies after the World Record for BEST EVER welcome home. (Think SUPER excited puppy who can talk with real words.)  The babysitter was bouncing The Baby and he was dozing (also shocking!)

After The Man left to go to baseball (*cough*TryingToHoldOntoHisYouth*cough*) I put The Baby in the swing and got my dinner. After some high-pitched whining, he fell asleep in the swing. (REALLY shocking!)

I slept on the couch for an hour or so and then he woke up and I gave him his medicine and he fell back to sleep but he'd taken my spot, so I left him on the couch (all trussed up and not going anywhere) and went to bed.  After another hour and a half, The Man brought The Baby in to the room to change him and give him to me to nurse.

I put him in the bed with me, both of us still drowsy, and he latched on and started to do his thing and as we were warm and cozy and he was nursing and I was dozing, I thought this:

James Cameron.

I Swear, I'm Not TRYING To Be Birth Control.

'I don't want him. I don't even WANT him. And I don't want to be here.'

Even as the words are coming out of my mouth, I know I don't mean them, not really. But they feel good to say in those deep, dark, moments. I feel the swell of a giant wave coming to crash over me and keeping in the bitter words feels like trying to hold back the sea.  Not unlike the adolescent fights I had with my mother, yelling hurtful insults that I didn't really mean, like spitting so much bile. Now, as then, the horrible words and the inability to keep them in, serve as a gauge.  A pressure gauge. And I've been under a lot of pressure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My boy started out easier than his sister.  His reflux presented and was treated early.  He slept at night (OMG) in two chunks, each 3-4 hours, and even if I had to work to get him back to sleep, he'd go back down and stay asleep until the next feeding time.  About a month ago, though, his sleep started to erode.  Eventually, he stopped going down at night. Stopped sleeping almost all together, except in short, fitful bursts.

His 'bedtime' eventually landed at about 3am, where it stays now.  Any effort to put him down before that results in instant waking and screaming of indefinite length (let's just say that he can go longer than I can stand to listen.)  And this pattern has left me with less than 3 hours of sleep for 4 consecutive days.

My delicate constitution wasn't made to run on so little rest. Things start falling apart.

He is scheduled to see a pediatric GI specialist on Friday and I am hoping that with a better handle on his reflux that he might feel better and sleep better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even while it's still dark, when he smiles or latches on or finally falls asleep, when the wave has crashed and it pulls itself all the way back, I curl in on myself, around him.  I put my lips to the top of his fuzzy head and I weep. And I feel so small.  Smaller than he is.  This little guy, this beautiful little guy, who would be a gift and a joy to anyone. To you. To someone who would enjoy this rapidly passing time, the way a mother should.  To someone who does better on limited sleep. To someone who could better handle the pressure.

And I know that those thoughts (the ones underneath, the ones making all the bile to spit, the ones that are much harder and less satisfying to say) are no more true or fair than the others. I know it. I know. 

And I also know this: when he sleeps better, so will I.

Then The Crazy will go back to wherever it hides and it will take The Crazy Talk with it.

Until then, my pregnancy-contemplating friends, don't listen to a word it says.

Just look here:

Obviously, She Deserves A PROMOTION.

TLNG: [All kinds of crazy today, most recently seen running through the house with a step-stool.]

Me: *exasperated* 'What are you doing now, honey?'

TLNG: 'I'm doing my WORK, Mommy!'

Me: 'Is your work to drive me crazy?'

TLNG: [still running, replies over her shoulder] 'Uh-Huh.'

Me: 'Oh-KAAAY, then. Well done, you.'

My Compliments.

Over the years, like anyone else (I imagine), I've received compliments on a variety of my physical and non-physical attributes.  It occurred to me the other day that, very often, the same attributes are complimented over and over.  And, even though I have a varying degree of agreement/disagreement with the 'goodness' of each of the  attributes in question, the consistency of the positive perceptions of others regarding the same, over time, has remained, well, consistent.

And perhaps I'm thinking of these things because recent events have made me feel [like a walking billboard of FAIL] a little less than competent and I'm all about the Reverse Psychology these days.  Also, I am always interested in the difference between our self-perceptions and the perceptions of others (when I get more than 2 hours of sleep per night and I have more than, say, 35 synapses firing at any one given time, that is.)

I'm sharing my list with you, in the hopes that you will review your own lists and maybe share them, here, with me.  I'm interested.

Anyway.

Here is the list of attributes for which I am consistently complimented:

My Hair.
The 90's were good to me in the Perception of My Hair Department. The 80's being the years of Big Hair, I used to beat my [straight as a motherfucking PIN] smooth, straight hair into submission with The Perms. I used to get compliments even then but with the entrance of the *Rachel Hairstyle* (my hair's natural inclination) people began to compliment in earnest.

My Skin.
People comment on the smoothness and softness of my skin. Since I have very little to compare, I just have to take their words for it.  It's something that I've heard my whole entire life.

My Voice.
I've often commented here about my Intense Dislike of my own voice.  It is, though, very distinctive, I suppose and I imagine that people either like it or don't like it and who is really going to say, 'BTW, I HATE your voice!'?

My Hands.
For Looks, Softness and Nails (when I have them.) I've had a hate/love relationship with my hands.  When I was a kid, I didn't like my hands at all and then, over the years for whatever reason, I've grown to like the way they look.

My, er, Rack.
It may be the case that every woman garners attention/compliments for this part. I have no way of knowing. But I have received interest in The Area from not only straight men but also? Gay men AND straight women.  I've often said that my boobs have 'Bi-Directional Appeal.'  We'll have to see how [they hold up] it goes after the attention of the youngest two 'interested parties' has [weaned] waned.

My Sense of Humor.
This may be one of my most-often complimented personality trait. You are privy to most of it here. The Cursing, The Irreverence.  I am also somewhat loud and a little bawdy and a LOT politically incorrect and certainly prone to laugh at the darkest of situations.  I censor some of that here, just because it doesn't translate well into the written word.

My Smarts.
I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a super-smart person but I am a quick study with a good memory.  (A good memory and a way with language can make a person look very smart in a certain set of circumstances.)

My Way With Words.
I have received compliments on my writing and my ability to articulate myself (professionally and personally.)  I mostly agree with this but feel like my skill in this area is in need of some SERIOUS brushing up.  I'm way rusty.

My Calmness in a Crisis.
That's pretty self-explanatory but it's true.  If you suck in a crisis and there is some Big Shit going down wherever you are, you would want me there, too.  For whatever reason, everything falls away and I can remain supah-calm and focused on What To Do Next.  After the situation is over, though, I lose my shit for real, just like a regular human.

That's all I can think of for now.

Answers! And Questions!

Oh, this was fun (again!) and gave me what to think of.  I did, though, have a sudden self-consciousness, where I was thinking that it was kind of um, WEIRD to tell you to ask me questions. About myself. I guess it probably IS. I have lots of questions for you, though, and so...well. Whatever. I don't know where I'm going with any of this.

Ahem.

Anyway.

Beth from SJ has two questions:
1. Am I from Philly (because I seem to be a fan of Philly sports on Twitter)?

First of all, BBAAAA HAHAHAHA!! Oh, Beth, you crazy kid. I wouldn't go so far as to call myself a FAN of ANY sport or team.  Let's just that the HOUSE RULES here dictate allegiance to the Philadelphia teams. *coughTheManIsCrazyFanaticalcough* But, I currently reside in the Greater Philadelphia Area. I still consider myself to be FROM NW Pennsylvania, though.  Also, I hope to HOPING that my kids are into fine arts, black lipstick, punk rock music or, say, poetry jams when they get older. You know, something that I can RELATE to.

2. Why am I so hard on myself?

I am thinking about this question a lot. I don't perceive myself as too hard on me. (Could that sentence be any MORE awkward?) I have very little use for actual frank Guilt or Regret* and so, if I act out and have a temper tantrum, I apologize and DO let it go.  I don't ruminate about the stuff that you read here.  I think that the viewfinder through which you're looking (the collective You, I'm saying) is limited. You read what I write and what I write at those times is often [fueled by hormones] in the heat of the moment and part of my processing.  I try to be honest about my internal experiences and dialog and while I don't think of writing/blogging as therapy, it is an exercise in connection and universality as well as self-evaluation.  Even though I don't think of it as therapy, I often feel much better when I've finished writing.  

*I distinguish genuine Remorse from Guilt/Regret. I do feel remorseful after losing my shit with my kid. Just like I would if lost my shit with anyone else who is important to me.

Clink, who used to have a link and who is now using this blog as birth control, wants to know:

1. What is my favorite meal ever?

If we're going for my favorite meal in the current, it would be a well-made pasta.  If we're going for an historical perspective, it would be this meal I had in a tiny, little restaurant in Italy, Florence, I think? It was the most simple but freshest and best Caprese salad and cheese ravioli in a pink cream sauce and I would KNOCK YOUR ASS OVER to have that again. omfg.

2. If I could relive just one day which one would it be?

I was unclear whether this meant, like, re-experience or re-do. Get ready for Barfy, though, because I might like to re-experience my wedding day. I KNOW. It was a perfect day. Perfect, really, and I loved it.  Not only did I get to marry my for-real closest friend, (BARFY!) it was also great to be surrounded by that many loved ones and well-wishers. Some of whom traveled for MANY miles to be there.

Forgotten from Fairytale Forgotten wants to know (I can barely contain the hysterical laughter that is welling up inside me) if I have decided that that I am done having children or if I think I may go for a third? 

Oh, Forgotten. I know that I owe everyone a birth story but let's just say, that I was DONE having children before this last one was even OUT.  I'm so done. So, SO done. As done-done-done as done can be.

Kader (A Fellow AMA-Mom) wants to know:

Which things about parenting do I think are harder/easier given that I'm not under the age of 25? This is such a good question and things I think about all the time.  I could write posts on these topics, if I still wrote posts. Heh.

Let's start with harder: I don't know. My aching back and my creaking (literally CREAKING) knees, maybe. I don't know that I wouldn't have those things if I were younger, as both pregnancies knocked me squarely out of shape from sickness, etc.  Perhaps, needing READING GLASSES to see my son's NURSING FACE, too. OMFG.  The thought of being 80 before my kids graduate from medical school.

Easier: Life experience and perspective make a ton of difference in my attitudes about most things, child rearing included.  I don't believe that I was prepared to make the sacrifices that I am making now, back then. I think I would have been restless and maybe resentful.  I feel like I did everything I wanted to do before I had kids (degree, travel, jobs, etc.) before I had them and now, I feel like this is a completely new phase. A second wind, like. I am comfortable and settled-in to this life-style for now. The Man and I were married for EIGHT years before TLNG was born. He calls it our 8 year DATE.

Also, is there any snack that seems to help with the lack of sleep? This is a catch-22 for me, Kader. I eat lots of chocolate and things that on the front end seem to help but are OH, SO WRONG on the back-end, if you know what I'm saying. And I think you DO.

Sarahviz from In the Trenches of Mommyhood wants to know:

1. How is TLNG doing as a Big Sis?

She was great for a while and then a CHILD-SIZED DEMON FROM HELL and then okay for a while and now, I hope, ADJUSTED MOSTLY.  She's very tender and sweet with the baby. Until she tries to claw his face off because he's in the sling yet again. KIDDING. Mostly.

2. If someone handed me a $100 bill and told me I had to spend it right away, what would you buy FOR MYSELF?

If someone handed me a $100 bill and told me I had to spend it right away, I'd smack them. Kidding. I'd probably go and try to get some pants that fit and it wouldn't be good and so I'd get depressed and since I was in the mall anyway, I'd probably go and buy some ice cream. Or $95 worth of books and a latte.

-R- from And You Know What Else, which needs a new tagline, wants to know, have I ever written about how I met The Man?

I think I did, maybe on a Fun Fact Friday post.  But the short story is that I was dating The Tool (forEVER) and The Man was dating an electrician. (I'm SO not kidding.) And we met on a psychiatric unit.  Where we both WORKED, I should add.  I liked him immediately (and he, me) but since we were dating others, we became friends. (Bonus Fun Barfy Fact! After meeting me, he went home and told his mom and his sister that he'd just met the woman that he was going to marry. HA HA!) And so it was. About a year later, we were both free agents and I asked him out on a date. TFS.

And Laura and Stephanie and Keila all want another Manson story. Which cracks me up, because how long have you guys been READING, anyway?  I feel like those stories were FOREVER ago. (Maybe because without sleep, I am living life in DOG YEARS over here.)  I'll comb through the banks and see if I can rustle one up for you. 

Did I ever tell you about the time he turned his downstairs into a dog kennel? As in, for like, BREEDING DOGS?

Okay. Here are my questions for you, if you are so inclined--pick one and answer it, because it's not all about ME. I am also INTERESTED IN OTHERS.

* Where did you honeymoon?

* What purchase(s) do you regret the most?

* If you could choose any super-power, what would it be?

* If you could travel in time, would you go forward or backward? To what time period?

* What was your very first job?

* What personality trait to value most in others?

* What was your favorite (or your fantasy) travel destination?

* What surprised you about being a parent? (If you're not a parent, what is your biggest fear about becoming one?)

* What personality trait do you wish that you could *give* to your spouse, SigOth, partner, friend, roommate ETC.?

2nd Annual CFQ*

Hey!

How's it going, everyone? Things here are G to the RIM, folks. Specifically in the [lack of] SLEEP department.  It seriously fucking with my normally cheery disposition and generally optimistic outlook. All I feel right now is summed up by the following quote:

"Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written the word: DOOOOM."

Anyway.

I'm thinking that we could all use a DIVERSION. So, how about this?  Remember about a hundred years ago, I put out a CFQ?* And I told you that you could ask me ANYTHING** you wanted? And you did? (Well, not YOU or YOU or YOU, because you guys weren't really reading me back then, so this is ALL NEW to you.)

That was fun, wasn't it?

And I figured that in lieu of [thinking of my own content] making a Year-in-Review post [of shit I can't even remember anyway,] I'd just open the door to my SOUL*** and let you HAVE AT IT.

So, go ahead. Fire away.

I'll holla back, y'all.

It's not like I'm SLEEPING up in this mug.

*Call For Questions, obv.

**So long as you're not trying to get the automatic code to my garage door opener or any shit like that.

***Which, apparently, is kind of like that fucked-up-only-opens-every-15-years-vault at Disney.