He Spanked My Money Maker

As I’ve stated many times, Bug is my challenge in life.  She often drives me to the point of true padded-cell, straight-jacketed type of insanity.  I’m afraid when she starts school, she will tell them her name is “Don’t” because we tell her that so often.  I beat myself up about it a lot.  I don’t understand where this behavior comes from, why is she so bad mischievous?  I mean, I am the rule queen, I follow and enforce all rules, there is a place for everything and everything is in it’s place.  I’ve kind of always blamed her father because he spoils her shamelessly and he himself is somewhat of a rule breaker.  So again today while I was cleaning, after getting on to her for jumping on my bed, teasing her brother, making a mess in her room, changing her clothes four times, and of course talking too much, I had one of those vision things you see in the movies and I’d like to share it with you. 
Picture this:  Circa 1972, somewhere in New England, I see a very petite 4-year-old, blond-haired, blue-eyed girl standing behind a shrub surrounded by 6 somewhat older boys  (they had to be all of 6 years old).  The little girl bore a striking resemblance to my Bug.  Wait was that me?  It was and I remember this day.  I remember it was allowance day in the neighborhood and I remember I didn’t get my allowance because I didn’t do my chores.  I remember I was mad.  One of the boys dared me to pull my pants down and show them my butt.  Things were way different back then so of course I said “Sure but it will cost you.”  “How much?”  “50 cents each!”.  Apparently they thought it was a bargain, because they all took the deal, handed over their money, so I pulled down my pants.  Sure was a cute little butt and I pulled in a cool $3.00 for this 30 second show.  That was a lot of money back then!  But just as in real life, in that vision, up pulls the old man at the exact second I’m pulling my shorts back up.  Holy crap, I was in big trouble, I could feel it!  Maybe he didn’t see it, he was really old (about 30 I think) so he’ll probably just keep pulling up the driveway.  
No such luck!  That old man caught on quick.  He jumped out of his car (who knew an old guy could move that quickly?) and stomped over to us and demanded to know what was happening.  I remained quiet and quickly hid my money.  It was my money, I had earned it!  Now if you are in my age bracket you can remember that “look” that only a father could give that would instill fear in the hearts of all children.  He gave that look.  One of the boys folded and told him what had happened.  Oh he was mad, no mad is quite an understatement.  This man was livid!  He quickly snatched me up, pulled my pants down and spanked my money maker right there in front of all of those boys.  Then he took MY money and gave it back to the boys and sent them home, promising of course that when he was “through with me”, he would be contacting their parents.  They ran, they had MY money!  Bastards!
I remained mad at my father for years over this.  I mean seriously, first the guy pulls down my pants (giving these hooligans a free peep show), then he pops my money maker, then he stole my money and gave it back to them.  Good parenting Dad!  My vision ended there, it was too traumatic, I had to shut it down.  
After this, I began remembering other little events in my life.  I remember my mother getting countless notes from the school, “Mrs. Thompson, Christy is a social butterfly, she flits around the class and we can’t get her to stay on task.” (I don’t even know what this means, how does one without wings flit?  But it must be bad because my Mom still brings it up!).  Other notes saying, “Mrs. Thompson, Christy is a very intelligent little girl, but she will not apply herself.”  “Mrs. Thompson, Christy got into a fight with a little boy on the playground today and she will not be allowed to participate in recess for the remainder of the week.” (In my defense that little kid wrote my name on the inside of his jean jacket because he liked me and showed all of the other kids…it was utterly embarrassing and he had to be punished).  Other things came to mind, but this is as far as I will take you with this because its been a rough day indeed!  
You see, I’ve just realized that the nut may not fall far from the tree.  Perhaps Little Miss Don’t got this from her mother which would be ME!  E-gads this is both disturbing and hopeful all at the same time.  Disturbing in the fact that this little girl might have inherited all of this bad mischievous behavior from me, but hopeful in the fact that she will someday outgrow all of this too!  
I’ve decided that I will keep this information to myself for now (well I’m telling all of you, but I am NOT telling my husband).  I’m going to test my theory.  Instead of constantly saying “don’t”, I am going to start asking “why?”.  I mean if she is really like me, she might have real motivation and possibly if I can understand her motivation, I can curb her behavior without breaking her spirit or spanking her money maker!  It’s worth a shot!


What you say is a “rora-juck”? Exactly what I was asking myself for almost two weeks as my 2-year-old son excitedly and repeatedly said that very word to me. There was a definite break in the middle of the word, leading me to believe that it was in fact two words, but what words, I had no clue. You see, we think my son has a slight speech impediment. He is smart as a whip, but his words don’t come out quite right. We have yet to have him tested as he is quite young (barely two) and Bug and I can understand him just fine. Worried a little? Of course I am, I’m a mother. Reading up on it and calling around? Of course, but I’ve raised three girls who were all quite verbal, bossy, and completely comprehensible at an early age so I’ve told myself repeatedly that boys develop slower than girls on a lot of these kinds of things. Besides, his intelligence far outweighs his lack of speech so for now I am content that a “bammer” is a hammer, a “ba” is a bottle, “Ky-E” is his beloved sister, “e-har” is a car, an “ocket ship” is a rocket ship, “b-bot” is robot, and I am his “Mommy”. He’s been making progress, so it’s all good!
Still, this thing that meant so much to him was still a mystery to me and we were both getting frustrated, heck even Bug was getting frustrated trying to figure it all out! I mean, whatever he was saying was some kind of important to him and the fact that we couldn’t understand him was so disheartening to him. It was heart wrenching since he is such a happy little mister, and so easy to please, but we were disappointing him and it hurt! This, my first son, is the most kind-hearted, loving, sweet, gentle, little soul I have ever met and to see his feelings hurt, his heart deflated, was breaking my heart!
I actually found myself going to bed at night, laying there for what seemed like forever, repeating this word, “rora-juck”, over and over in my head trying to figure it out. But nothing! We’d wake in the morning and even before “ba” or “nack fruits” or “bop darts”, it was always the same thing……“rora-juck” with that huge gappy-toothed smile! Same every day, and I’d say “Bubby, what is a “rora-juck” baby? Show Mommy!”, and he’d run around looking, desperately searching, knowing what I meant but unable to produce evidence of this beast! He would move on about his day bringing up this elusive object from time to time throughout, but Bug and I got to the point where we would just change the subject because it was easier than seeing the disappointment on his little face when we didn’t understand!
Then finally, two weeks after this all started, he came running excitedly from his room, holding his prize, his beloved “rora-juck”, repeating the words over and over and over again, smiling from ear to ear! It was his Mater that apparently we had misplaced and he’d found! Yes, his Mater Fire Truck! He was so proud, he kissed it and said “rora-juck Mommy”! Finally, this torment was over, of course a “rora-juck” was a fire truck, how could I be so stupid? Even Bug was ecstatic! We both said (without skipping a beat), “You found your fire truck Bubby!”. He just smiled in his usual fashion and sat proudly in the floor and played with his “rora-juck” for the rest of the day. Since then, he has been sent books by a very dear friend, and wouldn’t you know it, there were “rora-jucks” in two of them and they are his favorites!
Looking back, I can’t believe I missed it and put him through two whole weeks of torture! Next time something like this comes up, believe me, we will search his room, his toy box, his closet, high and low until we find the object in question! Then once found, we will continue to use the correct word until he “gets it”. He will get it…he’s a genius, I know he is! I don’t ever want to see that look of disappointment on his face again….EVER! In the meantime, I’m just glad we all found his “rora-juck” and he’s happy again! Happy trumps pronunciation any day! Our world is at peace again!

Problems With The Others

I know I’ve mentioned the others in the past, the two little ones I watch for peanuts during the week. Well Lucifer we’ll call him is 2.5 and his sister Mischief is 8 months old. From the moment I met these kids, I pegged Lucifer for a trouble-maker. He hits, pitches fits, breaks things (oh does he break things), he screams for no reason, looks at me like I’m speaking in a foreign language when I get on to him, refuses to clean up, eats like a slob, spills drink all over the floor, and his favorite words are “MINE” and “NO”. Oh, and he’s a snatcher, I hate snatchers! His sister was good to start with but then again, she was only 5 months old at the time. I truly felt sorry for their mother as she is very young and I had hoped that I could help her out in some way. I mean some kids are just bad right and with my experience with my old children, certainly I could help (so I thought).
As the days, weeks, months have unfolded, Lucifer has broken 4 drawers, countless toys, bruised my son’s face on many occasions, and even broke a window. Yup, this kid is just bad. His sister has now begun showing the same signs that lead to the path of destruction. She is 8 months old and is stubborn as the day is long. If you tell her no, she just continues to get into whatever you are trying to reprimand her for and she continuously has a bruised forehead (mostly from home) for doing it. She cries A LOT, especially when the simple word “no” is used or if you don’t hold her constantly. Truly, I was feeling sorry for their mother, her life was chaotic and full of broken and bruised things. It was sad and it’s not her fault her kids are just bad!
Well, the pity-party is over, it is her fault! I believe in discipline and rules. This is not to say that I am the best at adhering to my own rules with my children, or that my children are fantastically mannered (they are not as I’m sure I’ve already pointed out). They do however know the rules (all 6 of them) and although on occasion they break these rules, they know they’ve done wrong. They are reprimanded and the behavior tends to subside. For the most part, my children do not chew with their mouths open, they do not make a major mess at the table (or on the floor), they flush the toilet, they pick up their toys, they say please and thank you, yes sir and yes ma’am, and they do NOT talk back. They have been conditioned to know that these things are bad and if they partake in any of these behaviors, there will be consequences. So as I stated, I was trying to help out so as Lucifer and Mischief cause trouble or break the rules, they receive age-appropriate discipline, but it’s really not working. I mean, it works for a little while but then they go right back to the original bad behavior (especially on Mondays….Mondays are really bad). I kept wondering what I was doing wrong and why they weren’t learning like my own children, then I started paying attention to their mom and I figured it all out and now I’m just mad and feel sorry for these children and am certain that I will see them on a wanted posted one day. Harsh I know, but I call them like I see them!
You see, every day their mom would come to pick them up (usually late since she had to get gas or go grocery shopping or run an errand, and by the way, these are all things I do with my children so this bothers me in itself). Anyway, she would ask how the day went, so of course I would tell her. She seemed unphased initially and said nothing about all of the broken drawers (all 4 had been broken in a 2-week period) but I just figured she didn’t know what to say and probably handled it when she got home. When Lucifer blackened Bubby’s eye with a toy, I showed her the damage and expected her to do something, anything. She literally said, “Lucifer, that’s not nice, now tell Bubby you’re sorry”. Again, I just figured she was embarrassed so she would handle it at home. When he pushed Mischief down and bruised her forehead, I told her and she pulled him aside and said “Now Lucifer, that’s not nice, tell Mischief you’re sorry”. Surely she was doing something else at home. When he broke my dining room window, I called her at work. This one was pretty serious, he pitched a fit and threw the chair back with himself in it and it went through the window. Had I not been standing close and run over to catch him, he could have seriously been hurt. It was an hour and a half before she got off work but had that been me, I would have immediately left work and handled the situation, but I wasn’t surprised that she just apologized and said she would talk to him when she got here. She of course was over a half hour late and when she did get here, she handed me $40 and pulled him over to the window and said “Lucifer do you see that? That’s bad, now tell Christy you’re sorry”. WOW…this was getting to be too much. Just unbelievable! I have a strong no-kitchen rule (always have) for the children’s safety. There are chemicals, sharp objects, and stove tops in there, no place for children. So when she was here the other night (my husband was actually here this time), Lucifer was in the kitchen. I sternly told him to get out, he knew the rule! She looked at ME like I was in the wrong and got down on one knee to talk to her son and said “Lucifer, are you being silly? You aren’t supposed to be in there”. Silly? Did she just say silly? I saw my husband cringe. This wasn’t silly at all, this was a broken rule, one of many rules broken on that particular day I might add. All she had to say was silly! Yes, this was her fault that her children were on this path to a life of doom and gloom and I stopped feeling sorry for her the moment she said “silly”. That was my breaking point. Some people were just not meant to be parents at all, let alone at such a young age!
I am still watching her children for her but have been contemplating seriously terminating this arrangement. The money is not worth it and the bad habits my own children are picking up are bothersome at best (they are both hitting now). I have spoken with her about all of the problems and have been very clear about my concerns, but as you can see, it just keeps getting worse. But now I am actually worried about the kids (even though their mere presence stresses me out) so I’ve been hesitant to let them loose. Tell me, what would you do? I would welcome some feedback on this one!