Thoughts About Time Out

Dear Mom,

How are you?  How’s your day going? 

Ok, enough with the pleasantries…I feel it’s time we had another little chat.  Today’s topic of conversation is Time Out.

We, the children, are unsure where this ridiculous idea came from but we want to sincerely express our opinion that: Enough is enough.  (We know you like that phrase.)

Honestly, we’re just confused as to what it’s supposed to accomplish. 

In the beginning you really had us going.  We truly feared that if we moved from that step before the timer went off something bad would happen to us.  Come to think of it, that could have been because you actually TOLD us the police would come and get us if we didn’t sit there for the full two minutes…

Regardless, we sat. 

I bet you thought you were really something, huh?  Eventually, however, we smartened up. 

There was the one day when I personally tested that theory by moving my butt off that step no less than 7 times before the timer went off.  Nothing happened.

And I know for a fact that you saw me because you did that thing where you turn your back to me so I won’t see you laughing…you’re bad at that, by that way.

Over the years I think we just wore you down. 

The timer stopped being set so our “punishments” got shorter and shorter.  (Except that one time you sent me to my room for time out and then forgot about me.  25 minutes is an excessive amount of time don’t you agree?  Good thing I have so many toys up there or I would have been REALLY bored!)

Don’t get me wrong, you put in a great effort! 

I liked the time you put me in time out and then played with all of my trucks in front of me.  And you kept saying things like “Wow, trucks are so fun!  I’m glad I’M not in time out!”  That was a really nice touch.

The problem with your method is that you let me out after a set amount of time.  I don’t have to sit on that bottom step till I’m sorry, I just have to sit there till I’m done.  If I had to stay until I was sorry you’d be climbing over my little body in order to get up to bed that night. 

Please know that if I threw a matchbox car at my brother it’s because he deserved it.  I’m not sorry I did it…I’m sorry I got caught. 

So, I mean, please feel free to continue using time out as a discipline tool but know that you’re wasting your time.  Cause I can do four minutes standing on my head, with one arm tied behind my back.  It’s a cake walk, lady.  Just thought you outta know…

Sincerely,

The Management

Top Ten Reasons I Hate Santa

Happy Holidays! 

It’s a wonderful time of year, isn’t it?  I absolutely love it, the lights, the music, the smells, all of it! 

Oh…except for Santa…I hate that asshole.

 Here are my top ten reasons why that guy can take a hike:

10.  I despise the word “naughty”.

You can’t tell me you enjoy saying that word.  It makes me uncomfortable.  It’s terrible and I hate having to say/sing it this time of year.  I don’t refer to my kid’s behavior as “naughty or nice”.  I say their being “bastards or tolerable”.  If you ask me Santa needs to modernize his vocabulary. 

9.  I don’t have a chimney.

I know my kids don’t really realize this fact yet.  But when they do they’re going to ask questions.  And when Carter has a question he’s relentless.  It’s like the Spanish Inquisition…complete with torture in the form of “Why…why…why?”

 And then I’ll be so bullshit at Santa for starting the rumor that he enters through the chimney.  So I’m preemptively hating him for it. 

8.  He is always happy for no reason.

I don’t trust overly happy people, they are clearly hiding something.  What does Santa have to be so God damn jolly about anyway?  He lives in the coldest place on the planet and his only companions are a bunch of funny looking elves and an old lady.  I don’t imagine there’s any good eye candy in that place.

No one smiles all the time unless they are constantly on drugs…perhaps he’s constantly on drugs.  The whole “flying reindeer” thing could be one big trip.  Something to consider…

7.  He has ninety-four different names and no good explanation as to why.

Kris Kringle?  Santa?  Father Christmas?  Papa Noel?  In my experience the only people who need that many aliases are criminals.  I think Santa is really a con man named Barry from Toledo.

6.  He makes my kids think it’s acceptable to walk up to old men, sit on their laps and take presents from them.

Fellow parents, ever think maybe we shouldn’t be encouraging this behavior? 

“Hey kids, don’t take candy from strangers…unless it’s Santa.  And don’t let anyone put you on their lap…unless you’re gonna get something for it in return.  Glad we had this talk; that should clear things right up for you!”

You suck, Santa.

5.  I have to make that jerk cookies.

In case you missed it…I don’t bake.  If my life depended on my ability to bake I’d probably have to throw in the towel. 

But nevertheless, every December I have to DRAG myself to the store, BUY pre-made cookie dough, TURN ON my oven and BAKE!  And you can’t just make him any old cookies…you have to put sprinkles on them.  And you have to let the kids do it so they feel like they’re part of the process.  All that leads to is a huge mess in my kitchen and a plate of burnt sugar cookies that vaguely resemble Christmas trees.   

Santa, you’re getting store bought this year and you’re gonna like it!

4.  He doesn’t bring ME anything.

And I make a list.  Which proves that I believe. If that bitch from the “Santa Baby” song can get a light blue ’64 convertible I think you can manage to bring me a little something.  So feel free to drop those diamond earrings I’ve been asking for into my stocking this year, Kris.

3.  Santa brings all those toys…but he doesn’t stick around to clean my playroom afterwards.

Once again, Big Guy, all you’ve given me is work.  I’m the one who has to clean and organize and find a place for all the crap you just left for my moderately well behaved children. 

Why don’t you send me one of those elves that you work to the bone all year as a house keeper?  Speaking of that, how many labor laws do we think you’re violating?  Help me clean up or I’m going to talk the elves into forming a union…then you’ll be totally screwed. 

2.  He takes January to November off.

Yeah, sure, it’s great to threaten the kids with no toys for one month a year…but what do I do when they’re bratty in, say, the spring? 

Because threatening them with mom being mad at them is a joke.  But tell them that some magical fat guy is going to put them on the naughty (Gag!) list and they shape up.  And during the Christmas season you can see Santa wherever you go.  So the threat is real. 

All I’m saying is that mall Santas should have to put in an occasional appearance in the summer.  Let’s not be lazy fellas, put more effort into scaring the children year round, would ya?

1. Santa takes all the credit.

Who shops, wraps, bakes, cleans, cooks?  The parents.  Who gets all the credit? SANTA!

I’m sorry, Papa Noel, did you brave the stores and run people over with your double stroller in order to get the perfect gift?  In fact, you did not.  Did you stay up till 1 am assembling a Little Tikes Cozy Coupe Truck last year?  Did you?  Speak up…I can’t hear you.  No?  You didn’t? 

That’s cause you’re awful. 

But on Christmas morning when the kids are psyched out of their minds about their toys they thank YOU!  And you let them! 

Stop being such a conceited ass.  Maybe this year you could drop a little note about much they should appreciate everything their parents do for them.  Is that too much to ask?

So there you have it.  My Top Ten reasons I think Santa needs to clean up his act.

Merry Christmas to one and all!

(Except you Mr. Clause…except you.)

He's Baaaaack!!

It’s the time of year again…Elf time!

Last year was our first year with the ever popular Elf on the Shelf.  I know most of you are familiar with this but a quick recap for anyone who isn’t: You get a creepy elf doll and you tell your kids he’s a secret agent for Santa who flies to the North Pole after they go to bed to update the big guy on their naughty vs. nice status.  Then you back up your story by moving the doll around your house so the kids think he’s alive.

Ours in named Kebbie.  No idea.  That’s just what Carter named him. 

Last year I wrote a blog about him ( He Sees You When You're Sleeping) and how I think its bullshit that parents only get to scare their kids into behaving for one month a year.  Don’t get me wrong, I try to threaten my kids all year long.  But that elf dude adds credibility that is simply not available in June.

This year, however, I have a different attitude towards Elf on the Shelf.  I don’t simply see it as a way to enforce the idea that Santa is always watching.  Know what I think it really is? 

Work.

It's work because you have to move him all the time.  Can’t have the kids thinking the scary magical doll DIDN’T fly back to Santa that night now can you? 

Hey parents, you’re not too busy this time of year or anything right?  You can add “remember to move the damn elf every single night” to your holiday to-do list can’t you?

If you forget to move him then you better hope you notice before the kids do.  If he’s in the same spot as the day before then you have come up with an on the spot explanation for that:

“I don’t know guys, maybe he got into the eggnog last night and he’s too hung over to move.  Why don’t we go get him a Big Mac and see if that helps…”

We forgot to move him all the time.  Then I would have to have my husband go juggle knives or breathe fire to distract the kids while I climbed a bookshelf or some other shit like that. 

Here’s a question: Why does he HAVE to move?  What if he just happens to love that particular spot on top of the hutch?  I have a favorite place I sit when I’m chillin’.  Why is it so freaking inconceivable that old Kebbie just stays in one place?

Because that would be easy.  And that’s not the point of parenting during the holidays.

Now, I see these moms out there who get super creative with their elves.  Good for them.  Here is part of a list that someone posted of their ideas of how to do up Elf on the Shelf:

1. Marshmallow fight – marshmallows everywhere

2. Pillow fight – feathers everywhere

3. Nerf gun fight – darts everywhere

4. Laundry fight – clothes everywhere

Are you kidding me?  The idea of anything “everywhere” makes me want to die.  And I can barely remember to move him from one shelf to another shelf.  You want me to stage a marshmallow fight in my kitchen?  Not happening.  But you go ahead and enjoy throwing clothes all around your house.

This is as creative as we got last year:

 

 It kind of looks like he's contemplating jumping.

I should have said “See that, kids? Kebbie is thinking about ending it all because you two are so bad.  Do you want that elf’s death on your hands?  DO YOU?”

Now THAT is how you scare your kids into embracing the holiday season!

Daylight Savings

It has just occurred to me that I’ve never written a blog about daylight savings.  This surprises me because I like to write blogs about things that I hate.  And I hate daylight savings. 

First of all, daylight savings was clearly invented by someone who had some serious angst towards their parents.  Why else would anyone want to create such a horrible thing?  It was obviously meant as a punishment.

If you’re not a parent (Congrats!) then this twice yearly phenomenon probably doesn’t affect your life too much.  Maybe you’re a little sleepier when you spring ahead, but that’s about it right?

For parents, daylight savings is earth-shatteringly God awful.  

It often takes a lot of work plus a few small miracles to get your kids on an acceptable sleep schedule and we parents really don’t appreciate that being messed with.

When Carter was a baby I would drop whatever I was doing in order to be home in time for his nightly routine in order to keep him on schedule.  It didn’t matter if we were out running errands or at a friend’s house for dinner and drinks.  I would stop all activity and leave. 

Did you hear me?  I would PUT DOWN ALCOHOL in order to be home.  This is serious, people.

So when you’re finally able to move heaven and earth and coordinate your life around your baby’s sleep habits daylight savings time is a massive kick in the balls.

I think it’s so nice that some of you got an extra hour of sleep this weekend.  Know what I got?  A kid in my face at 5:30 instead of 6:30.  I then had to get up in the pitch black. 

I tried to explain the situation.  But trying to explain daylight savings to a 4 year old is like...well...it's much like trying to explain daylight savings to a 4 year old:

“It’s dark out.  Go back to bed.”

“But I’m awake.”

“Yeah but you shouldn’t be because the clock says it’s too early for me to be hearing your voice. You should be sleeping. “

“But my eyes are open.  See? Can I have pancakes?”

Later that day I got to read all the status updates about the refreshing extra hour of sleep you childless people enjoyed. 

You liked falling back?  Well I hope you like falling back off the cliff I’m going to shove you over if I hear one more word about how rested you are!

Around 5:30 that evening, when it was once again pitch black out, I started thinking about how it was actually 6:30 which meant the kids should be going to bed in about an hour.  But of course I couldn’t put them to bed then, I had to wait.  Otherwise they would be up at 4:30 the next morning.

Welcome to “Falling Back Day” or as it’s more commonly known: THE LONGEST PARENTING DAY OF THE YEAR!

I cannot tell you how many of my fellow moms posted about how they had to start drinking way earlier than normal to survive that day. 

See?  See what you’re doing to our livers with this bullshit time change?  I hope you’re happy Mr. Daylight Savings Man!