UPDATE: I ADDED A FEW HELPFUL ARTICLES ON THIS SUBJECT ON MY FACEBOOK PAGE… https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Playing-Mom/187972617887257
So I’m in the middle of a post on discipline, but I’m THISCLOSE to launching my store website (thinking September 1 as the launch date)… point being, I’m too lazy to finish my post at the moment. So sorry, but I’m just sooooooooo excited about my site, working really hard on everything and I can’t wait to share it with all of you!
But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a post ready to go for you. I happened to receive a reader letter from someone I actually know this morning, so of course I have to post it. Please help a dear friend with a problem that she’s having…
My 4 1/2 year old son is a good, smart, outgoing and generally happy kid. He has gone to nursery school since he was 1 1/2 and gets only the most amazing reports from his teachers. He does great at playdates when we go to other people’s houses, and he has great playdates with girls at our house. But when another boy his same age comes into his “territory”, he becomes a complete and total nightmare. I’ve seen this happen with him so often that I’m afraid to invite anyone over. We’ve had to cut playdates short and ask kids/parents to go home because he won’t let another kid touch any of his stuff. He literally growls at them and swipes the toys out of their hands. He tells the other kid that he wants him to go home. Before the playdate he acts very excited that the other boy is coming to play and then as soon as the other kid enters our house he flips out. I try every bit of discipline I’ve got – threats, bribes, time-outs – and nothing works to get him back to being himself. I really just don’t know what to do. Any advice out there? I’m at my wits end.
I’m going to withhold my own advice and see what my readers have to say. Okay, go!
We’re in Buy Buy Baby a few days ago and the kids are in a cart together. I go to reach for something and in that second, Lexi starts crying. I turn quickly and ask Ryan what happened.
“Nothing,” he said. “Her head got hurt.”
“Oh really?” I say. “So there’s no chance you hit her head just a little too hard by accident?”
“How did you know that?” he asks incredulously. “You weren’t looking at me.”
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” I reply. “I have eyes in the back of my head.”
He implores me to turn around so he can see the eyes, but he comes up short. I tell him that only grown-ups can see them. He doesn’t believe me.
“Ask any grown-up in this store if I have eyes in the back of my head,” I say confidently. “I promise you they will say yes.”
He stops a handful of adults, all of whom seem amused and confirm that yes, I have eyes in the back of my head.
Days pass and this is going great. Ryan now asks me if I saw various things throughout the day. Did I catch him drawing on the table by accident? Did I see him eat that macaroni that fell on the floor? Did I catch him grab that toy out of Lexi’s hand? I’m finding out things I never would have seen had it not been for Ryan’s admissions of guilt my second set of eyes.
Then today Ryan decides to ask my parents if they can see the eyes in the back of my head.
Of course, they say.
Ryan leans around to check on my head. Once again, he sees nothing. Then his cheeks slowly start to flush. His lip quivers. I can see the volcano rising in his chest. Crap. The jig is up.
He bursts into tears.
The ones where you don’t hear anything for a minute and then out comes a long, loud, solitary moan that cascades in waves. He tells us that it’s not fair that he can’t see the eyes. He can’t deal with everyone seeing something that he can’t.
And although I’m inwardly amused by all of this, I quickly tell him that I shut the eyes and put them away. I mean, I don’t want to see my kid have a coronary or anything.
But little does he know that tomorrow the eyes will grow back… out of my a$$.
Thanks, little man, for telling me all of the “bad” things you did over the past few days. Much appreciated.
I sat at the edge of Ryan’s bed while Cory read to him tonight. He tried to follow his fingers along with his Daddy’s on the clean white pages. The story came to an end. Ryan looked up at me and smiled. A real smile that meant “I love you so much, Mom. I know I was a complete pain in the ass today and I’m sorry. I made you want to sell me to a guy with an apple cart and I understand and won’t do it again.” (Whatever, that’s what it looked like. You weren’t there.)
But it was a mature smile, I can’t explain it, and it made me want to jump into his arms and tell him that I love him so much that it actually hurts.
We sang songs, shared a plethora of kisses and cuddles and I left in a cloud of love, rainbows and unicorns.
From the monitor he began to sing a song he learned in Spanish at school,
Te amo Mama, te amo Mama. I love you Mom, I love you Mom.
Te amo Papa, te amo Papa. I love you Dad, I love you Dad.
Te amo hermana, te amo hermana. I love you sister, I love you sister.
He called Cory back in to do his nightly sweep for lurking monsters. Three minutes later, he was pretending to be Buzz Lightyear fighting off the evil emperor Zurg. When that scenario ran out of fuel, he pretended to be his teacher admonishing one of his friends for not listening. The friend was sent to the office and Ryan called him a “person who didn’t put on his listening ears.” The last thing I heard was a big yawn, a sigh and then silence.
How infuriating it is to have children! I was all set to sell Ryan to the highest bidder today and then he went and made me wonder why I ever gave it a thought.
I started this blog as a way to remember the little things that the kids do that I will someday forget. I can’t imagine forgetting any of it, but I already have. It’s sad, but a part of life. It’s probably a good thing that we forget some things in particular, otherwise I’m not sure any of us would procreate and the species would die out.
I’m sure Ryan won’t remember a damn thing I did while home with him from birth until Kindergarten. And that SUCKS. Pure and simple.
But I hope he remembers the love. That when he thinks about his family, he feels warm and safe and happy.
Because he makes me happy.
The purest, best kind of happy.
Just hours after he made me want to sell him.
Manipulative bastard.
Do you have a child who won’t stop asking when they’re going to be 4?
Oh, that’s me.
Well, if your kiddo is jumping out of his pants with excitement and doesn’t fully understand the concept of time, try printing out this Birthday Countdown from fellow blogger Sarah of Life Sweet Life. She does some adorable DIY projects and this is one of them. You can print one of a handful of designs, put it in a picture frame and use dry-erase marker to count down the days. Brilliant.
29 days until Ryan stops asking.
The kids and I are shoved into a bathroom stall at the mall and there are people waiting. Ryan goes to pee and then it’s my turn. He looks behind me as I go.
“Mommy, why does the pee come out of your tushy?”
“It doesn’t come out of my tushy, it just looks like it. I’ll explain when we’re in private.”
“Where’s your penis?”
Whispering. “You know I don’t have a penis because I’m a girl. Girls have…”
“MOMMY, LET ME SEE YOUR PENIS!!”
Alrighty then. We walk out to about five smirking women and a few red-faced girls. Awesome. This is gonna rock.
I thought it would be a swell idea to take the kids and go on a return-a-thon since I had no other plans and didn’t want to sit at home all afternoon. Let it be known that I never return ANYTHING. If I bought it, it’s because I tried it on and I like it. I’m not one to buy two pair of shoes with the intention of returning one after I try them on at home. But I received some gifts when Alexa was born that just weren’t my her taste along with gifts from Ryan’s 3rd Birthday (yes, you read that right) that we didn’t need and shoved everything and everyone in the car on a quest to get hundreds of dollars in store credit.
Let it also be known that I avoid like the plague taking Ryan to any kind of store. I’m sure that the same will happen with Alexa. Between the ages of 1-3, I find it to be one big yell-fest:
Please stop hiding under the clothing racks!
If I can’t see you, you’ve gone too far.
Please stop screaming – you’re scaring people! Lexi’s face is not bleeding. It’s her food.
No, we can’t go up and down the escalator because we have a stroller.
No, we can’t leave Lexi alone so we can go up and down the escalator.
Unless you want a job, please do not stand behind the cash register.
Get up off of that floor! It’s disgusting!
Stop trying to break your sister’s arm!
Please don’t touch the ______________.
If you don’t stop ____________, you will not be going on the rides at the end.
And so on.
But it was cute seeing him in the real world, taking it all in. And worth it, too. I ended up with about $600 in store credit, if you count the trip to Target and Buy Buy Baby from earlier in the day when Ry was in school.
The highlights, according to Ryan:
Mine, personally, was the penis comment. But apparently my vote doesn’t count.

I knew I had to write that daughter-in-law letter sooner rather than later.
As the door to the bus opened this afternoon, I saw my sweet boy in hysterics.
You see, when Ryan cries, usually his feelings are hurt because he hardly ever cries due to something physical.
Miss Pat, who drives him home, asked him why he was crying (for my benefit) and he bawled even harder. He explained, red faced and wet, that the same 4-year-old girl he sits and giggles with got off the bus with a friend today for a playdate at her house. Miss Pat noticed Ryan’s lip quivering after they got off of the bus but talked him off of the ledge and he seemed fine… until he got home.
She tried to ease his suffering by saying that the girls had a playdate scheduled weeks before and that her Mommy just needs to call me, but Ryan did not seem to care. What he cared about was that he did not have this. particular. playdate. Than I tried to explain how she has different friends just like he does and that today she had plans with someone else just like he does with his other friends. No good. More crying.
I asked the girl’s last name, said I’d call the school to get her number and thanked Miss Pat. I carried my soggy lump of hysterics into the house and he took out his frustration on everything – from freaking out that I didn’t let him put his backpack on the couch, to complaining that his feet were cold, to trying to tell Lexi he needed “privaseat” (privacy) to demanding I put on Shrek and fix him a snack. He was a mess.
I’m on my way to call the girl’s Mom to schedule an immediate playdate for my heartbroken son.
Little girl, you didn’t do anything wrong, but I already dislike my future daughter-in-law and this just makes it worse.
A girl in the Pre-K class (an older woman!) at Ryan’s school wants to have a playdate. Apparently they sit together on the bus and giggle a lot. Ryan’s afternoon bus driver told me that her mother wants to schedule something, so I said that sounds great and to give her my number. What I was really thinking is now she’s just making him laugh… but soon she’ll want a promise ring, they’ll elope and then I’ll be a goner.
So with that, I guess it’s time for the first draft of the following letter:
Dear Future Daughter-in-Law,
I really want to like you when I meet you in 20+ years, but at the moment I don’t. Not even a little bit. The thought of you taking Ryan and moving to Antarctica, telling him how overbearing I am and limiting his visits to once a year makes me violently ill. To know that all of my hugs and kisses and tushy squeezes will be transferred to you makes me want to cry.
But in the event that you subscribe to my neurotic, controlling, sensitive and sarcastic ways, take any advice that I give and allow me to plan your entire life together, we’ll be fine.
Just so you know, I adore my mother-in-law. She also adores me (or so she says), likely because I settled down with her son five minutes from where they live, we do holidays, vacations and pretty much everything together. We should do that, too, so we can also adore each other and eliminate any potential “issues”. If you opt out of this suggested arrangement, I will supply you with years of unending Jewish guilt.
So listen up, honey. All you need to do in order to get my blessing is buy me the house next door, have my son call multiple times a day, make sure he gives me cards on my Birthday that he picked out and signed and routinely say, “What would your Mother do?” when making any decisions.
Oh, and don’t think this is TOTALLY about me. If you do anything to hurt my son, I will shoot you out of a cannon to infinity and beyond.
Lovingly yours,
“Mom”
Ugh – good thing he’s only turning 4 and I have a few more years to learn how to let go because I get the sense I’m not quite ready…
I had just finished composing a cheery e-mail at 5:45 a.m. to my GG’s. The GG’s are seven women who I’ve been friends with since our oldest kids were babies and we were all home full-time. As life got busier and some of the girls went back to work, we created an e-mail group where we could blather on about our insanely exciting lives. We may not all see each other as often as we used to, but I feel grateful to have friends who give a sh-t if Alexa stood up on her own or Ryan wrote his name for the first time.
Anyway, so Alexa had just fallen back asleep again after an hour of one of her middle-of-the-night parties. Since Ryan hadn’t been in school for 17 days due to our vacation piggybacking on February break, I couldn’t be bothered with fatigue. After all, as of today Ry would be back in school and I could take a nap when Alexa did. My goals for this particular Monday were to nap, get iced coffee for when I felt like napping again and writing out Ryan’s Birthday party invites. Simple.
My e-mail:
So Lex got up at 4:30 and screamed until 5:30 with some stopping in-between when I held her for 5 min. She’s been on antibiotics for 4+ days so it can’t be ear pain, right? Is she playing me? Do I need to open the sleep books? Should I have let her cry the whole time instead of going in that one time? I wish she could talk!!
In other news, happy back-to-school to everyone! I had so much fun w/ Ryan for 2 weeks, but I am soooo thankful that we’re back to routine. That was hard.
Happy last day of a cold-sounding month! Spring is coming soon where we can spend long afternoons at the park and be happy
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So my friend Z responds:
Very upbeat for a rainy Monday at 5:45..I’ve been cursing since 5:20!
I go back to bed until I am awakened by the sound of a seal barking. It turns out to be my dear son. The one who will now be out of school for an 18th day.
My follow-up e-mail:
i changed my f-cking mind! he woke up barking like a seal at 6. shoot me.
this has happened like 4x as you know… he just gets a croupy cough and it checks out to be nothing and he feels fine and i keep him home for a day.called school and his teacher answered. she told me to drop him off if he checks out okay b/c the kids miss him. i’m like well i don’t want to be that mom who brings him to school thinking everything is okay and then the class ends up sounding like sea world.
Okay, so I lost my dream for a nap, but I could probably still get my iced coffee on the way to the doctor and write out invitations while Alexa naps and Ryan eats lunch or something.
He did check out fine at the doctor and I got a bonus check-up when I asked the doctor if she would check Lexi’s ear to see if it was clearing up or if she was partying at night for some other reason. Apparently, it’s some other reason. We were sent home with a suggestion for Ryan to use this day to rest and I told the doc I’d do my best.
We had a relaxing day at home. I sipped my coffee while filling out a dozen or so invites during Lexi’s nice mid-morning nap/Ryan’s lunch. Then he played Mario Kart for a bit while I wrote out a dozen more.
Suddenly, Ryan noticed two huge puddles pooling on the leather couch. He had been jumping all around the room after a particularly good race and was far from resting up during his “sick” day. I turned and realized that not only had I lost my nap, but I had now lost my iced coffee and my invites as well.
In a move of both brilliance and evil, I cleaned up the mess, called the party place to request more invitations and then pretended to be Ryan’s doctor calling home to check up on him. I told her that he had been jumping around too much instead of resting, so “she” mandated 45 minutes of quiet time in his room with non-noisemaking toys and books so that he could recover and return to school in the morning.
And that is how I got a 45 minute nap today.
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