Thursday, February 15, 2007

Month two, week one, day six: Princess Potty, the Super Brothers and Jaws

First some funny stuff, then something decidedly unfunny.

I think I should buy one of those itty-bitty baby potties for Baby N., because she seems to have this potty-training thing licked. One small problem: she has decided her car seat is the throne. Every time I sit her in it between nine and ten a.m., she has a giant, five-alarm, grunting-with-satisfaction poop. And she always seems to do it just as I finish dressing the boys in snowsuits and assorted outdoor gear.

We went to the family centre this morning (after Princess Potty was changed and reinserted in the car seat, of course.) When we arrived, a child A. knows from playschool was there with her sibling and mother. The child wouldn't leave N. alone and kept saying, "MY baby!" I was dealing with this politely yet firmly; Little I. thought not firmly enough, however. "No, my sister, you can't take her away! Leave her alone or I'll hit you!" he yelled.

I took him (and the baby) aside for a time-out so he could calm down, explaining no one would ever take N. away.

A little while later, the same child and her brother were snatching toys from my boys and just getting in their faces. The boys had enough, and reacted as a defensive team. I managed to catch the Super Brothers while the aggression was still imaginary (shooting webs and rockets from their hands). I gave them a time-out and got them to vent their angry feelings with words. I moved their toy away from the other two children.

The other two followed them, and their mother, sitting on the coach, did nothing to hinder this and did not redirect them out of an obviously bad situation. Instead, she lets them start again and says, after nodding at my kids, "Boys are always worse, aren't they?"

"NO," I say firmly, "my boys rarely behave this way and when they do I discipline them. And I make them leave the other kid alone."

I picked up the toy again and moved the boys a second time, and sent her kids to play with something else in the kindest voice I could manage.

Imagine! She sits there doing nothing while the four children squabble and then accuses my boys of being the instigators after her kids follow them around hounding them. Grrrrr. My boys are by no means angels but they are well disciplined for poor behaviour and are usually kind and respectful.

On the way home, A. piped up with his opinion: "Mom," he said with finality, "that kid was invading our family privacy." I think he meant his personal space, but still funny.

Now for the unfunny thing: Little I. bit the baby tonight. We were all sitting together, all three kids in my lap, laughing at an e-card my brother's kids sent us for Valentine's. N. and Little I. were patting each other's faces (a favourite game) when I hear the baby scream in pain. There's I. with his teeth clamped on her finger. "Stop!" I yell. He let go, but there was a dent in her finger; she was sobbing. "No biting! No hurting! No biting N.!"

He spent the next 20 minutes on time-out; I know it was long but it was either that or I was going to lose it and spank him.

He looked cowed by my reaction; he couldn't explain why he'd done it, and neither can I. He was being held. We spent lots of time together today. I didn't yell at them today. I just don't get it.

This now means I can never let her out of my sight, even in her swing or Exersaucer. He might hurt her.

Lord, I think I need a child psychologist around here. Sigh.

5 comments:

Jennifer said...

Hi Cin: I finally solved my no blogspot access problem and I'm in! I loved reading your entries so far.

Anonymous said...

Hey hon, I'm on duty patrol at the Bistro on a Saturday morning. The bistro is the only mess that we're allowed to enter, seeing that we're all "lower than snake-shit."

I'm gonna tell you something and you're gonna be really pissed: they have 2 area 51 games here, and an area 51 sequel as well. I know, I know, I can hear your teeth gnashing.

Anyway, pray things go well in Farnham next week. They'll be waking us up at midnight for fire drills I hear (while we're in our sleeping bags). You know, standing around in your ginch and t-shirt at -20 with 2 hours sleep. That kinda stuff.

I hope I don't freezer-burn my cheek on the rifle butt while I'm on the range. The platoon ahead of us has their cheeks all frigged up.

That sucks about I. biting N. Maybe he got scared and won't do it again.

NCdt 356

Cin said...

Hi, Hubby!

You take care, and remember the Girl Guide's basic camping rule: one blanket on bottom is worth two on top. (In other words, the cold from the ground chills you faster than the cold from the air while sleeping.)

And dry moss is a wonderful source of kindling.

We miss you so much -- especially me. ;-)

Have fun and stay warm!

Anonymous said...

Don't worry about the bottom sheet, we're issued self-inflating air mattresses and the bag is good to -60 or something.

I'll call the night before we go.

Also, I'll write another couple newspapers for the boys and send 'em. The first batch should arrive this week hopefully.


p.s. Remember how I could nurse a beer for a good half an hour? I'm so programmed to gorge myself, that I was done 2 beer in 15 minutes flat. Thank God I didn't go to St-Jean last night with the other half of platoon 22, because I can hydrate like a mo-fo. That mixed with beer can't be good.


"Shake and fake, NCdt 356, shake and fake. Maybe you'll get through this if we're looking the other way. Or maybe not."

Megan said...

Lower Than Snake Shit would be a good name for a band.