Slides are for going down not up

That's always really been the rules of the playground. Right? you go down the slide run to the back wait in line, if your naughty cut in line, climb up the ladder and go down again. then you always have some rule breakers who run full speed like their life depends on it up the slide. That child almost always seems to be my child. the one running for their life up the slide. So here I come waddling my fat ass on stubby legs, usually sweating, and say in my nicest voice, "we go down the slide not up the slide". then I usually get a blank stare. HELLO? I want to yell at them "did you not hear me? get off the damn slide now!" but I resist with all of my being. "you need to go down so everyone can have a turn" I coach "come on now" This is almost always followed up with a big pouty lip and a grunt and a grudgingly slide down. At this point I turn around to see perfect mothers in their size 4 gap jeans watching their perfect children waiting patently at the top of the slide. They smile at me, but wouldn't even make eye contact. What the hell? like my kid just pooed on the slide or something. it wasn't that bad. he ran up the slide. I feel like putting on my best snob face and letting one of the mother know that her other daughter is very busy shoving her finger up her nose in hopes of pulling out the "big one" just to pop it into her mouth. yummy. But of course I don’t, kids are kids. and kids are fun, and kids are boogey, and kids are sweaty and kids are germy, and kids are innocent, and kids are sweet, and loving, and FUN! I think as parents we are sooo worried about what our children look like to other people. I am so guilty of this. I constantly am correcting my children then turning to the nearest persona and apologizing for whatever action seemed so bad at the time. But they are just kids. we need to let our children be children sometimes. "Yes" I will say to my kids "Run up that slide, cause if you don't an alligator might eat your toes! But wait until no one is waiting at the top." kids need the gentle correction with lots of opportunity to have fun being kids. All to soon kids will grow up and need to get jobs and pay bills, and ewe be adults. If we don't let kids get the childhood fun they need then when they are in their thirties they are going to revert to being a child and try to justify it by saying I didn't have much of a childhood growing up, it's my time. and they are going to leave their wife and kids in the dust. maybe we can totally eliminate mid-life crisis if we give our kids some room. Maybe I’ll try it. give my kids some time and chances to fall and get hurt and have lots of FUN!

Lets use our indoor voice =|

So it's four in the afternoon and my husband just walks in the door after a full day at work. And I feel like a kid, it's like the best thing that has happened all day, an actual adult has willingly walked into the madhouse. and soon really soon I will be able to talk to him. I really cant wait. so first I have to wait for the kids to scream "daddy daddy" "guess what I did today" or " mommy didn't let me do this or that" like I’m the bad guy for not letting my four year old scramble off into the woods alone, oh sorry not alone, but with her favorite doll. So I wait my turn and after wading through 4 kids that are still hanging on him he gets to me. It's like gold, I don't want to let it out of my sight! so I know I can't bombard him with all the boring endless details of the day all at once. In fact I can't talk to him about anything because all the kids are still yelling nonsense at him. Well not nonsense to them but I’ve heard it all already, I lived through it today, so I really don't want to hear about our horrible poo in the carpet incident again. So in a loud yet nice voice I say lets all use our indoor voices, your hurting my ears. Silence! WOW...it's amazing. for half a millisecond. yup that’s about how long that lasts. so they all start up louder than before. Oh how it's driving me crazy, plus I have a hundred things I need to talk to heath about and I need to start dinner, and switch the laundry, and clean off the table, and I can feel dirt on my floors, and what’s that smell, is that poop again how many times a day can a baby poo? It all feels so overwhelming not to mention the fact that I have the smallest darkest kitchen EVER! "ENOUGH" I yell. claustrophobia took over for a minute. why would anyone want to come home to this. I know I look like holy hell, and the kids are only half dressed. "Go Play NOW!" this to them is like saying go pull your toe nail out. My 10 year old urgghhh's and goes off, my four year old drops her head and slowly mopes off to her room, my two year old runs in circles yelling "no, no, no" and my 1 year old is still pawing at heaths leg to be picked up. The two year old will eventually run off to play. so this I can deal with. I turn to heath who is looking at me like a pathetic mental patient and I self consciously fix my hair. Do I look that bad? what is he seeing? Poor guy. so I start to tell him the important news of the day like the poo in the carpet only my side of it, and he hands me the baby. What the hell. I've been holding him all damn day. He bends sown gives me a kiss and retreats into the bedroom to change and then to the bathroom to do his manly clean up of himself. he's been in the house ten minutes and he gets to hide already. now by this time like clockwork I can hear the kids wrestling in the living room, and I know I have to moderate or it will only turn into an all out brawl. My head hurts, and the kids are screaming, they are having fun, and laughing with each other, which is so nice but they are all sooo loud. "use our indoor voice, and got off the T.V.!!! the last part came out as a yell. oopps. When heath feels like emerging which isn't long I’m sure it just seems that way. like when your in a disaster, and it seems like hours till the police get there but it was really only five minutes. That’s what it feels like. When he walks through the door it's like I can clock out. only I can't. Mom's can't clock out. we are supposed to keep smiling and using our sweet indoor voices to talk to the kids about what they should and shouldn't be doing. or our husbands look at us like we are an overworked crazy hot mess. and we might be, but who wants to look like that? not this gal.  So I try hard to use my indoor voice.  Yeah lets see how well that works.

Hands are not for hitting? really?

What the hell are hands for then?  I'm sure thats what my kids think everytime i say that.  I still say it to my ten year old.  when he gets into one of his rages, and he's hitting me, i try my dambest to keep my calm, and through my teeth in the best sing songy voice i have i reapeat over and over "hands are not for hitting, that hurts me."  You know what he says to that?  "I don't give a shit you fat ass."  I mean really?  did my ten year old really just say that?  It truly brakes my heart, but it's also pisses me off, so then i end up half screaming in his ear, "hands are really NOT for HITTING!!!" Eventually he will calm down and cry and say sorry, but ooww!  That boy is strong.  He is really a sweet boy,. He is truly night and day, or as his psyciatrist sais bi-polar.  But when he's being nice he is the best kid anyone could ask for, the kind of kid you wish was yours.  But when he is in a rage, woowwww watch out!  a tiger comes out.  A mean angry tiger!Poor guy, can you imagine haveing that amount of rage in you and and at sucha young age?  i feel for him.  My boy i ♥ him!
     But back to the task at hand, Hands are not for hitting.  I am so sick of saying that!  so sick of it.  I mean really why can't my two year old just not whack his sister in the face?  So i walk over to him, take him by the hands bend down to his level, and say "look at mommy," thats another good one.  look at mommy but we'll get there.  So i wait till he looks at me while i'm talking and i gently say " hands are not for hitting"  to where he says no hitting"  you might think that at this point i might jump up and down with pride and joy.  I mean he gets it right?  no hitting!  he said it! the world is right agian.  But no because as soon as i tell him to go say sorry to his sister, he says it and then hits her agian.  to where she hits him back.  so now what!  i could just tell her good job he totally deserved it.  he keeps hitting you so hit him back!  But then what kind of a kid am i raising?  So i put Him in a time out and i speak to her and let her know that no matter what "hands are not for hitting" and she can always come to me if someone hits her and i will take care of it.
     I always wonder how this generation of kids is going to turn out.  My generation, we were spanked and told to hit when necissary.  We didn't get told why we can't do things like throw balls in the house.  We didn't do it because our parents would spank us, or get sent in our rooms for hours!  Now we as parents see our kids throwing a ball in the house and we sweetly say, "we don't throw balls in the house it could break my picture frames or knock over the vase.  that would be sad."  And then what? we give them another chance to see if they can throw the ball quieter until something breaks and then we take it away.  I really hope this generation comes out alright. 

If it doesn't work just keep trying till you feel like giving up.

Well I guess I'm going to start blogging, something I always told my self I would never do. like I have the darn time. I have 4 kids. ages 1, 2, 4, and 10. the two year old has speech therapy, the 10 year old has bi-polar, anxiety, and ADD. and in home therapy. I have laundry coming out of my wazoo, dishes are multiplying by the second in my very dirty, and frankly, smelly sink. My rugs haven't been vacuumed in weeks cause the stupid vacuum is broke. there is dust literally making houses in the corners of my kitchen. I mean really who in the hell am I to sit on my huge ass and write about anything? I should be cleaning, that's my sisters famous phrase. "I should be cleaning" that girl sweeps and mops her floors twice a day, her house puts me to shame, and yes she has 3 small kids, so there is no excuse there. I just truly hate cleaning. oh well I'll get there, ha-ha yeah we'll see. my husband helps so much, he will keep the kids busy with tasks so we can both clean together. I ♥ Him!