The one and only time that I threatened to run away from home, was when I was about 5. I believe the catalyst for my wanting to find some new digs had something to do with what time I was expected to go to bed.
My mother called my bluff, and shoved me out the front door on a chilly Ohio night. I was clad only in my blue baby doll nightie, and pink fuzzy house slippers. I never made it off the front porch. When my mother tired of listening to me cry on the other side of the door, she let me back in.
Not a word was spoken. I trudged past her, ascended the stairs, and put myself to bed.
The bed time hour is a hot button issue around here. Jensen goes down by 8, and the girls follow up at 8:30. It’s really more for me than for their sleep needs.
We have also discovered that an effective means of getting our point across, in the way of consequences, is to shave 15 minutes off of bedtime for each infraction. HIGHLY EFFECTIVE.
Lately I’ve declared a new sheriff is in town. We’re going through The Total Transformation Program to aid us weary parents in dealing with some issues. Cailey is my defiant child, Jensen is prone to OLYMPIC SIZED outbursts, and Emme is, well, 10. I’ve been at my wits end trying to navigate the treacherous parenting waters, and feel that if we can get some good parenting tools, we can nip this manipulative behavior before they turn into teenagers.
In other words, before they turn into ME.
As I get further along in the course, I’ll be sharing A LOT MORE about that. All I can say now is that I’m getting the information I need to make some very positive changes.
In the meantime, my children aren’t so sure what to do with a mom who SAYS WHAT SHE MEANS AND MEANS WHAT SHE SAYS. No more marshmallow mommy.
I think they might be a little worried. And planning an escape. This was the scene from the backyard this afternoon. If you’ll notice, one child has a jumprope tied about her waist, while the other smaller and not as strong child holds the other end. I was guessing that the smaller child was going to lower the older sister over the fence into the nature preserve.
I wasn’t really worried, though. The skeletal remains of rodents that have met with an untimely death from the business end of the shovel would have broken her fall.
And if that weren’t enough to send her flying back over the fence into the safety of her own yard, then the bobcats that lurk back there certainly would put a giddyup in her pole vault away from perceived freedom.
Frankly, it would have all been easier if these kids had just come with an instruction manual, in lieu of that too small diaper bag, and cans of never opened formula that the hospital sent us home with. I’m just sayin’.
No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.