Painful Aspects of Parenting

Don't ever bother writing a letter to Mr. Nasty Cold Germ Man! He doesn't listen. In fact, he seems to have brought along Mr. Nasty Flu Germ Man because now I'm achy as well, and have no energy whatsoever. As long as I don't end up in the hospital with pneumonia again, or have to take two weeks off of work for the worst case of the flu ever (like I did two years ago), and as long as I don't start puking, I'll try to keep the complaining to a minimum.
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DISCLAIMER: This could end up being a controversial post, and I debated as to whether or not I should write about this or not, but I decided, "What they hey..." . You are more than welcome to disagree with anything and/or everything I say in this post, and feel free to speak your opinion(s) if you comment. All I ask is that you don't attack my personal opinions. Thanks! :-)

Everyone has different parenting styles; everyone has different styles of discipline. There are hundreds of books out there telling us what works best; what will permanently destroy our children if we practice certain types of discipline, and what will make our children respect us. When I was pregnant with Care Bear, I already had in mind how I was going to handle discipline in our house. I had already had some practice with Anakin, but him being my step-son, I was still not completely comfortable with practicing discipline with him. I didn't feel it was my place (that has changed now.) For the most part, I scoffed (and still do scoff at) the books placed out there telling us moms what works best. How many of these "so called experts" out there really even had or have children? I didn't feel I had or have the time to sit and read hundreds of pages telling me how to raise my child(ren). Every child is different and there is not one pat answer or solution out there that is going to work.

Anyone who knows me well or spends any significant amount of time with me knows how I feel about spanking as a form of discipline. I don't like it as a form of discipline and I never have. To me, when teaching my children appropriate behavior and that hitting is not an acceptable way of expressing yourself, I find it hypocritical and somewhat contradictory to spank my children. There of course is the argument out there that spanking as a form of discipline is not the same as "hitting", and while I may agree with that, try to explain that logic to a three year old as you are smacking their behind.

During my tenure thus far as a parent, I have tried to practice other forms of discipline such as grounding (for Anakin), taking away priveledges or toys, sending them to their rooms, and not allowing time with friends outside. This tends to work for me in most situations.

Recently, Care Bear has acquired a new and not so savory form of expressing herself and her distaste for things that she does not like: She spits. Not like one spits when they're trying to get rid of something gross in their mouth, but the all out, snotty "in our face" kind of spit. You know what I'm talking about, right? And I'm not quite liking this new form of expression so much. Particularly because it typically occurs in all out defiance of me, or when I have asked/told her to do something that she is not thrilled about. In the past, when punishing my young girls, in particular, it is usually because they are arguing or fighting with eachother, or done something with belongings or other things that they know they aren't supposed to. This is new to me, and unpleasant. I don't like being spat at by my four year old daughter. I don't know too many mothers who do. (Raise your hand if you do....).

Suffice it to say, I have had to try and figure out how to handle this and what form of punishment is most suitable for this type of behavior. Not much has been working. Last week one day, (in the morning when trying to get all three kids fed, dressed, and ready to take Anakin to school by 8:20 a.m.), Care Bear was not cooperating in any way whatsoever. She would not get dressed, she would not eat, she would not put her socks on, she would not let me comb her hair. My frustration hit a boiling point and when I told her one last time to start getting ready "or else" she spit at me. "Oh no you didn't"! And then I uttered words that I thought I would never hear myself say:

"You spit at me one more time and you're getting a spanking!"

I have "spanked" her before, if that's what you really want to call it, but it was more funny than anything to her and did not hurt in the least bit. But this time I had had it. She looked at me after I said that, and purposefully and defiantly spit at me again. So, what did I do? I picked her up, put her over my knee and gave her three good whacks on the rear. And what did she do? Looked at me in utter shock and despair, crumpled up her little face and cried like her little heart was breaking. I'm sure you've heard the phrase, "This is gonna hurt me more than it's going to hurt you!" Well, that phrase never rang so true to me at that moment. I wanted to crumple up my face and run crying from the room. I immediately regretted spanking her and wanted to take her in my arms, comfort her and tell her I would never do it again. But I didn't. I had warned her, told her what was going to happen, and followed through with it. I hated it, and I hate that it came to that, but once I said it, I knew I had to do it, or I would be a laughing stock to my kid; unworthy of my threats.

Care Bear still likes to spit; even when she's just goofing around. But now, when she gets ready to do it to me, she pauses mid-spit and stops herself. So, the spanking did it's job. But I do believe it hurt me more than her; I'm still feeling the sting.
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In happier related Care Bear news (just so I don't leave you today with you thinking Care Bear is a total brat....cuz she's not!):

• Yesterday, while my kids were outside playing in the back yard, Anakin was having problems locating a toy. He asked Care Bear if she knew where it was. Her response? "No. I absolutely, positively do NOT know."
• Also yesterday, the subject of her favorite black pillow came up (her security "blanket" which is a small, square pillow that she sleeps with every night). When the pillow came up in coversation, she said, "Speaking of which, where is my black pillow?"

And for those of you who expressed concern over her missing bike: It was found. Behind a bush at the end of the block. Phew!