Time For a Time-Out, Mom!

I am blogging on the bathroom floor while watching my daughter take a bath. Why? Because I'm learning that sometimes (more times than not) my child has a perfectly good reason for acting out.

I had punishment on my mind as I went to pick up my 15 month old from behind the side table after telling her "don't touch!" about a bazillion times. I was seeing red . . .  but the red took on a distinct shade of brown as I lifted her and my hand made a "squish" sound into her poop soaked pants. Y U U U U C K!!!! My route towards the time-out spot took a detour to the tub as I looked around in frantic futility for someone else - anyone else - who might deal with this for me. But alas, my husband is at a class for graduate school and my 4 nannies have the night off (what was I thinking?)

My goal was to teach my daughter something, but I learned the lesson instead. Darn you, kid! You're always forcing me to acknowledge how far I fall short of the Mom of The Year award . . . . but then your hugs and kisses make me feel like I've already won it.

Now to dry off this lil' booger and get her in some cozy jammies. 

*sigh*

Livin' and learnin' - the life of a mom.

Becoming the Mother I Swore I'd Never Be

Alternate Title: Confessions of an Imperfect Mother . . . Part 1 of many

The TV is honestly an awesome babysitter and at times my savior.

The other day at a restaurant, a waitress had to bring my wandering child to me while I paid the bill. *face palm*

Sometimes, I put her to bed with a bottle. I just do extra brushing on her teeth the next day. Ok, no, I don't.

I let her run wild in our little post office and tear the place apart as I tried to ship 3 packages. I figured it was easier to just pay for what she'd damaged than to spend all my energy frivolously trying to chase her and put things back on shelves. There was a moment when she walked up to me with someone else's keys. I ran out and chased a woman to her car, just to find out that they were not hers. I just endured the judgmental stairs. I don't even care anymore.

When I'm really frustrated at her and trying to get her to mind me, I grit my teeth at her. I hate that.

I always frowned upon other parents when their children yelled "no" at them all the time. I made it a goal to rarely use that word with my child to try and keep her from forming that habit. So, I now have a child that just yells "stop" at me. *sigh* Apparently, I've ruined this kid. I'll try again with the next one.

While at a street fair, we were standing in a driveway listening to some musicians. Exhausted by chasing after my child who had decided to be ornery that day, I was allowing her to pick up snack puffs that she had dropped on the dirty ground and eat them. Concerned onlookers decided to inform me of the appalling thing my child was doing. I told them she was improving her immune system and allowed them to stare at us with sour looks on their faces. Again, I just don't care.

To be continued . . . . .