Sibling Fight Management 101

Aaah - another refreshing night's sleep on the couch. Susie has a cold, so I felt as though I was sleeping between the dueling banjos of snoring until I finally went downstairs for a decent night's sleep.

David and Larry returned from camping unscathed. David had a great time, notwithstanding his extreme reluctance to go on this trip. He found a new best friend, and Larry enjoyed talking with the best friend's dad. It is interesting that, even though they spent a full 24 hours together (including sharing the same tent), Larry never discovered that this guy's kid is homeschooled also. David told me. Because he is only 10, and so has not yet developed the non-communication skills of a true guy. Give it another year, and he wouldn't have known either.

Uncle Matt got tired of the sleep deprivation (hey, that pun wasn't intended, but it's a pretty good one) and packed up and got the heck out of here. But not before we all watched The Man Who Knew Too Little last night. If you're a Bill Murray fan, this is a must-see. I missed it when it came out 11 years ago, as I was having a baby at the time.

Rachel and Susie keep having altercations of one sort and another, and they are all very emotional. I am not used to having 2 girls fighting. It's always been boy-girl or boy-boy. People got mad, but they also got even. Theo would pinch Anna. Anna would take his toys. (They don't do that anymore.) The boys just punched each other. Rachel bit Brian a number of times when they were littler and then he'd yell, "I'm telling Mommy!" Somehow, it was a lot simpler. Girls, however, get very emotional and there is much wailing and screaming of things such as "I hate her! She's mean!" accompanied by these big, gulping sobs and huge tears rolling down their cheeks. It's overwhelming. So I smack them.

Ha, ha - kidding. I just mail them to India.

Stop that! I don't know what to do, actually. But I don't worry about it too much, because I know that before long they will have outgrown this stage and gone on to be teenagers and won't that be fun?

I feel a list coming on...

WHAT NOT TO DO WHEN KIDS FIGHT

1. Talk so your kids will listen ('cuz they don't listen unless you are siding with them)
2. Use your conflict resolution skills (see #1)
3. Call your husband at work and have him threaten them over the phone (not very effective and it annoys him no end)
4. Try to be fair (as in, "Now, Susie, you've had a turn with the old, bent spatula from the kitchen drawer; now give Rachel a turn.") This technique rarely works because (you guessed it) they both want the crappy old spatula first and who cares that they have a perfectly decent set of play kitchen tools of their own that cost more than all your cooking equipment put together, not that that bothers you or anything...
5. Scream "Shaddup, youse!" and burn them both with your cigarette (Ha - joke - though it is tempting... it's a good thing I don't smoke, I guess)

Instead,

SIBLING FIGHT MANAGEMENT

1. Studiously ignore them - they just want to find out who Mommy loves more. Also, most fights evaporate after a few minutes. Intervening too soon prolongs the disagreement, leaves you with a splitting headache, and annoys you no end when you see them playing happily together 10 minutes later as you lie on a couch nursing a migraine.

2. If the fight lasts more than a few minutes, or turns violent, take away disputed object. Hide it. Out of sight is truly out of mind. Kids are way distractable.

3. Redirect the fighters' interest ("Oh, look! I just saw a giraffe outside! Quick - go see!"). See above re distractability of young offspring.

4. If undistractable, the fighters should be put in separate rooms and allowed to scream at each other safely from behind closed doors while you go back to lying on the couch and nursing your migraine. This approach has the advantage that you can drink something, um, comforting without the little brats seeing and telling Daddy.

5. Remember to say at some point, "Just wait until Daddy gets home!" Sometimes the old ways are the best.

Hemingway Redux

Larry went up to the attic yesterday to find his camping stuff and discovered 3 (count them! 3) full mousetraps. I thought it had been sort of quiet up there lately. As usual, he was quite proud of himself for his hunting prowess. He treated himself to an extra beer after disposing of the bodies. I'm just glad he didn't have them stuffed and hung above the fireplace.

Larry was looking for his camping gear because he and David headed off for a fun Boy Scout camping trip today, David's first. It was sort of touching how excited David was. I mean, if excited means screaming, "I'm not going! I don't want to go!" Larry practically had to carry him out to the car.

Parenting isn't for weaklings, you know.

And lest you think we are cruel for forcing our son to participate, the kid was eager to go until yesterday, when he found out that Uncle Matt was coming to stay for the weekend. David didn't want to miss a second of the visit, though most of today will consist of watching the little girls play with their uncle's cellphone (it has a camera! And fun tunes!). In fact, as of this writing, Uncle Matt is still abed (it's past noon), as he is not used to having his sleep patterns messed up by a screaming 10-year-old at 6 in the morning. No one else around here even noticed the disruption. Uncle Matt leads a very sheltered life.

I had planned to give myself a break from a solo parenting weekend by going to yoga class this morning - but instead I ended up leaving the minivan at the local auto shop for a new battery (after a kindly neighbor once more jump started it for me) and then walking back home. Oh, well - it still beat being stuck in the house on duty all day. Now I just have to figure out what to do with the kids for the rest of the day. I mean, once I stop wasting my time watching this funny video on the new trend of outsourcing childcare to India, brought to you from those strange folks at The Onion. Boy, some people can really take Idle Parenting to an extreme...

Some Things Bug Me

Well, I certainly wasn't in a very good mood last night, was I? Chronic pain will do that to a person. And the threat of impending death. Things haven't improved much here today, healthwise - I just keep popping those little magic pills the doctor gave me, which might as well be placebos for all the good they are doing me.

Someone came over to visit with her kids this afternoon, which provided me a little distraction from my medical woes; but, unaware of my tenuous grasp on my Weight Watchers' resolution, she brought a container of chocolate chip cookies to share. They were good cookies. Not quite as good as Trefoils, but beggars can't be choosers. Luckily, the cellulitis seems to be affecting my jaw, so it's been harder to chew; maybe that will all balance out for me, diet-wise.

Oh, dear - now my hypochondriacal brain is whispering the words "gangrene of the jaw" to me. Is that a disease? Should I Google it? Can I live with half a jaw? I don't know. One of you look it up for me, okay? And my left ear is still swollen up like a cauliflower. I was thinking about that last night when I couldn't sleep, and I remembered that I had once read about a medical case in Boston where the doctors couldn't get rid of the infection in some guy's earlobe no matter what, until some genius decided to use live maggots to clean the bacteria out of it. It being the middle of the night and all, I decided that that was no doubt going to happen to me; so then I started wondering if they would administer some sort of general anaesthetic for the procedure or if I was just going to have to kill myself.

Would you believe, Larry was sort of confused when woken up by my 3 AM panic attack? Even after I managed to explain to him my dire maggot-ridden situation?

Oh, look, I found a picture of maggot therapy; but, for some reason, I can't load it onto my blog . Consider yourselves lucky, okay? If you really want to see it, just go here.

Lovely, isn't it? Whatever happened to "First, do no harm"?

Thoughts From A Whiny Sick Lady

In the comments from yesterday, Anonymous wanted to know what to say when a teen screams, "You hate me!" Tempting as it may be to trot out Rule #5 ("Yes, dear, we do hate you")(or better yet, "Who told you?!"), it may be better to just say, "Cut the crap" - because the kid knows it isn't true. Surprisingly, Anna has never screamed that at us. She has screamed, "I hate myself! I hate my life!" when informed that she is not allowed to go to some social function which she had her heart set on attending, to which we always replied, "Well, we love you, sweetie," just to bug her.

Drama, thy name is girl teenager.

I'm a tad late posting today, as I have been laid low, once again, by cellulitis. Luckily, I remembered what happened when last I Googled this particular disease and so I have stayed far, far away from the search box at the top of my browser. Of course it didn't help to have the doctor talking about MRSA and IV antibiotics, either. I guess I could drop dead any minute. In which case, I should be editing family photos, not talking to imaginary friends.

The good part about being sick is I have an excuse to lie in bed and neglect the children; the bad part is I have to put up with the blank stare Anna gives me when I inform her that I need a little extra help around the house. You parents of teens know that stare - the "You talkin' to me? Why? Do I know you?" look that is probably the cause of more military boarding school enrollments than all the other reasons put together.

And, in case you're wondering, the answer to that look? "Yes, I just came from outer space, dimwitted Earthling; now get your butt off the couch and look busy."

Can you tell it's been a rough week with a certain someone who used to be the cutest little girl on the planet? Sigh. Maybe I should look through all the old photo albums again, so I can remember what her smile looked like. Or maybe that would only make me feel worse.

Ha - she just asked to check her e-mail. I don't think so, sweetheart. Mommy can be waaaay bitchier than you. Just ask Daddy - he knows. And it doesn't help that I am missing Knit Night this evening.

Time to go - the Tylenol bottle is calling my name.

Teen Girl Survival Guide

I've just read yet another blog post about insanely-acting teen/preteen girls. Let me shorten the learning curve for all you people whose daughters have just recently been possessed.

Surviving Teens (and Preteens) of the Female Persuasion

1. Do not, I repeat, do not try to reason with these creatures. You could reason better with a pet iguana. They do not want to see your way of looking at things. Because that would make them as much of a loser as you are.

2. Insist on the outward forms of respect. That is, unless you want to live for a couple of years with a screaming, wall-kicking, door-slamming she-monster....

3. Remember! You are dealing with someone who has regressed to the mental state of a 2-year-old. Treat her as one. Short, simple commands work best.

3. Never does the pain/pleasure principle work so well as it does for teenagers. Making a teen write "I will not hiss at my mother while she is speaking" 200 times has more of a salutatory effect than lecturing her. Make sure to take away all computer/phone/IPod privileges until she is done.

4. Carry a hand-mirror at all times to avoid looking in the face of the teen-girl death glare. Confronting the death glare directly has been known to turn formerly rational parents into screaming, out-of-control maniacs.

5. Acknowledge everything she says and agree with it. (Yes, dear, we are ruining your life. That's right, we are losers. Now go shovel off the floor in that hellhole you call your room.) It drives her absolutely crazy.

6. When they complain about simple household chores, give them more. When they complain about that, add even more work. Eventually, it gets through their pea-size brains that there is a pattern here, and they shut up. (Not permanently, alas, but that would be too much to ask for)

7. Do not acknowledge her displeasure when she is standing directly above you, glowering like a summer storm cloud, flashes of lightning emanating from her eyes. Asking what is wrong is just looking for trouble. Instead, smile and say, "My, don't you look lovely today!"

8. Develop an early-warning system with your spouse. Do not let him come home from a hard day of work to be greeted by, "Either she goes or I go!" These sort of histrionics are very hard on the menfolk.

9. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Removing an oft-slammed bedroom door is a reasonable tactic for an otherwise unsolvable situation. So is refusing a driver's license until the teen is capable of thinking in a rational fashion once more.

10. Remember, this is a test of endurance; a marathon, if you will, not a sprint. Conserve your energy. Hydrate well (preferably with something that has some alcohol content). Stay in shape in order to prevent your daughter's doing damage to personal property or a younger sibling. Above all, laugh a lot, especially in front of her. She hates that.