My Frannie has fallen into a pit of bad habits. I think it’s in their hardwiring somewhere that they have to go through these evil and disagreeable phases because they are “testing limits” or having “cognitive growth spurts” or whatever, but really, it makes me want to “put her in a Skinner box and come back when she’s eighteen” or “get in touch with a white slaver.” The weekend went thusly:
Frannie: Water!
Me: ….
Frannie: I need some water!
Me: Really!
Frannie: Can I have some water?
Me: I don’t know, can you?
Frannie: Please!
Me: You are so close to asking me nicely.
Frannie: “Please may I have some water.”
At this point I heap praise on her. I was treating her like a little dog all weekend, in that I was trying to only give her positive reinforcement so she won’t act up to get attention. She is pushing me hard right now, and I have been cursing the rain and my small apartment, and trying to think of things to do.
In Washington State, there is this Satanic annual thing called “February Break” for school-aged kiddies. They get a whole damn week off instead of just President’s Day, which is evil, because February Break does not coincide with a college student’s schedule, or anyone else’s, really. So if you don’t have one million dollars, you can’t nick off to the Bahamas for the week, you just have to suffer through your child’s frustration and try to find childcare.
So after we spent most of the weekend together and Frannie was starting to ask nicely the first time out of the gate, she now goes back to her dad’s tonight. I don’t really know what goes on over there nowadays, but he has always been less of a hardass than me. I suspect she is less mannerly there and gets away with it. I just can’t stand a shrill, mouthy child, are you feeling me? I refuse to be the slave of someone who’s only around three feet tall and thinks that doing ballet in your underwear for whoever comes over is super off-the-hook.
Evidently I need a U.W. login to view that tat pic. Fortunately, it just so happens that I have one. But then, after I logged in, it said I still didn’t have permission to view the pic.
So there.
I feel your pain. Oh, do I feel it. As it is apparently bogus “presidents’ week” in my preschool too, even though i paid a full month. and I have everything in the world to do and work and school. Which isn’t getting done.
it chaps my hide big time.
Crappity “Mid-Winter Break”!!! It’d be one thing if just the public schools did it (as my kids aren’t in public school, and I wouldn’t have to suffer!), but the private ones, too? When I was a kid, we had no such thing, and I believe that, as I pay outrageous ammounts of money to send my kids to school, they should be there as much as freaking possible. Including weekends and holidays! Grrrrrrr….
In a more positive vein, I hope you enjoy your tattoo, or at least that it is as fantastically gorgeous as the last one. Also, give me a call this week, as my little monsters would love to get together with Frenchie. I’d even pick her up and give you some respite.
Also, when my girls don’t ask nicely (which seems to be increasing right now, is there something in the air?), I just say, “what?” until they get it.
“I need water.”
“What?”
“Get me some water.”
“What?”
“I NEED SOME WATER. GET ME SOME WATER.”
“What?”
“Oh. Please may I have some water?”
It takes a bit for them to catch on, but so far it seems to be working….
yup, need an id and password to view the tats page.
“yoo-dub” elite and their stinkin’ passwords!
Hey, you get that disc yet?
Working with the ‘tards I learned that a bad habit takes twice as long as it has been practiced to unlearn. And thank you for using the word ‘jackassery’–it’s part of my holy trinity, jackassery, buffoonery, and shenanigans.
Very cool tulips. Can’t wait to see the Stargazer lillies – my uncle grows them and they are beautiful.
When I was a child and would visit my bio-dad every other weekend, my mother would always comment on what a little twit I was when I came back. (She used more appropriate words, I’m sure.) Bio-dad was not necessarily less strict than my mom, but there was just something in the psychological upheaval of going from one parent’s house to the other that made me–who was normally a good kid, for real–turn into a real shit.
Anyway, nice ink! I’ve got big plans for the skin I’m in as soon as I stop finding more practical ways to spend my money, goddammit.
Badger and Supa: Yes! I feel your “full-month-of-tuition” pain. What up?
why is it always sexy to see a woman’s fingers pulling at a piece of clothing? i mean, i think you could be pulling it off of your forearm and it would still be kinda hot. but there’s a necklace there, right, so that’s…
uh. that’s a good shot of a tattoo, is what, and i’ll stop being lewd.
and never lose hope with the manners. two methods: 1) not hearing it until it’s said correctly (the raised eyebrows with full facial attention worked for me) and 2) periodic reviews of why certain methods of request are more effective than others, even if said reviews seem mostly wasted. just keep throwing the ball over their heads until they’re big enough to catch it, is part of my theory.
and then one day they go to a party and the parents call you after to talk about What Good Manners Your Little Frenchie Has and you can go break your arms quietly patting yourself on the back.
which you deserve now, for fighting the good fight. yay SJ! *thank you* for writing! *please* post pictures of your new tattoo when you can!
Wow. That’s pretty. Dig that necklace too.
I want one. But it’s better with initials.
Frenchie–No advice there! Someday her mouthy ways will be of great benefit to her but I’m not sure what to say about now.
I’ve also noticed that my son’s most grouchy, demanding or upsetable when he first comes back from his dads. Then just when he’s getting all settled and reasonable again off he goes back to the land of no bedtime…
Bah.
No response works pretty well. I just don’t hear it if it doesn’t have ‘please’ attached. They get the message.
Unfortunately, yo, I think OUR behavior is what teaches them the most.
Smartass kids is one of the penalties of smartass moms. Hopefully they’ll also learn when NOT to mouth off.
:)’
mmmmmmm, SJ’s most beautiful left breast (or at least close by)……
: ) I sure do love you, SJ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BTW, where’s the “HI SUPA!!” candy heart?? All of a sudden I feel somewhat neglected….
Another BTW, I feel as though I’m the only respondant that doesn’t have his/her own blog…. If only my writing skillz were as good as my ranting skillz…. >sigh<
GREAT post. I like the “new” look. haven’t been around in a while, maybe it’s not new anymore. Your girl is going to be good to go with a mom like you!
Supa, you should have a blog! Everybody loves a good rant.
You could call it SupaRants or Rantalicious… Or maybe just: YoBitch!
:)
He he! That’s freaking AWESOME!!!! I love it!
Crappity, though, now I’ll have to do it!!!
:)
Supa: Hell yes, we had “Mid-Winter Break” as kids, but at Waldorf they called it “Teacher Training Week”, and mom just left us home alone when she went to any “training” at all. That’s what I’m on right now. For my “training’, I got a refresher course in driving through Colorado weather.
Also, you should get yer own blog. Diaryland has ’em for free, if you want. Rantalicious, baby!
SJ: Welcome to the “Rude Years”. My daughter is nearing 7, and unfortunately the rudeness just keeps getting worse, especially in public or anywhere else polite behavior is expected. I really hate 7. I hated 4, too. Somewhere between 5 and 6 the behavior got a little better, but now it’s going down the shitter again. Just wait until she starts being “sneaky”. Hate that.
Really? Man, I totally don’t remember that at all! I must be getting older than I thought!!!
I remember once reading that 9 is the top age for stealing and lying, so you still have good stuff to look forward to. I remember being 9,and having my brain suddenly light up through some developmental process so that I believed I was a master criminal and all the clever ploys I could think of hadn’t been thought of by every single 9-year-old in the world before me …
My 2 boys are 15 and 19, they’re beautiful, they’re wonderful, and one of them is even out of the house. I’ll just say what all the old ladies say to you at the bus stop, “Oh, honey, enjoy them while they’re little.” You have no idea how quickly the time goes by and how much you would be willing to pay to go back to the cute and affectionate years once they’re kinda grown-up people who don’t share every little thought that goes through their minds …