Your Kid is a Liar

Well, maybe not your kid. But my kid is. And it’s completely unintentional but seriously, kids are liars. Bold-faced, unabashed liars. As a teacher I feel it’s my duty to share this with you because it is extremely important that you take everything your kid says with a grain of salt. Because your kid is a liar.

Case in point: Marcus had t-ball the other night. I wasn’t able to make it because I was sick so David took the kids. David must not have noticed that Marcus came home with a ball that didn’t belong to him. This is the conversation that took place between Marcus and I:

Marcus (on stairs): Look mom, the coach gave me a ball!

Me (in kitchen): What do you mean? Why did he give you a ball?

Marcus: I dunno, he just gave it to me. I don’t know why.

Me: Did the other kids get a ball too?

Marcus: I don’t know, I got a ball though.

Me: Well what did he say when he gave it to you?

Marcus: He said, “Here Marcus. This is for you.” Then he gave it to me. See, it says Marcus on it.

Me: Oh. That doesn’t say Marcus honey, that says Marlins. Do you think that maybe
you thought that ball said Marcus and you thought it was yours?

Marcus: It says Marlins? Are you sure? It doesn’t say Marcus?

Me: Look honey, it starts with Mar, just like your name, but look at these letters. Do you have these letters in your name? Did your coach actually GIVE you the ball, or did you just see it on the ground and thought it had your name one it?

Marcus: Hmm. Maybe my coach didn’t give it to me.

You see, with less than three minutes of interrogation I got to the root of it. I didn’t even have to torture him. I should work for CSIS. The thing is, Marcus wasn’t intentionally lying. For whatever reason, he thought his coach had given him a ball with his name on it. He believed that his coach had given him that ball for keeps. He created this scenario in his mind in which his coach gave him a ball.

So if your child comes home from school with some whack-a-doodle story about some hijinks that occurred in class, take a minute to do some investigative parenting. There could be more to the story.

On Loyalty

First of all, I’d just like to say, I don’t care how important the hockey game is, it is just not okay to wake a sleeping baby. I don’t understand how you can become so emotionally invested in a game on tv that you would hoot loud enough to wake a sleeping, TEETHING, possibly SICK with LYME DISEASE baby. Come on!

Ahem.

Skyler has this little blue bear that she loves. His name is BearBear. She’s had him forever, and I don’t know where she got him but he has been her best friend for a long time now. About a month ago we were driving in the van and out of nowhere she says, “Mom, you know, BearBear is mine friend.” It’s true, he is her friend. When she is worried or sad she seeks him out and hugs him hard. She sleeps with him every night.

Then one day Skyler went to Save-On-Foods with Daddy and there was a bear just like BearBear, only larger, and pink. She lost her damn mind over that bear, looked up at Daddy while hugging the bear and said in the most adorable voice she could muster, “He’s so fluffy I’m going to die!” Don’t give her too much credit on the cute scale here—that was a direct quote from the movie Despicable Me. She’s cute, but not THAT cute. So of course Daddy bought her the bear, which I am fine with. The more the merrier, right? But Daddy had a different idea. He thought it would be okay if Baby Bear Pink REPLACED BearBear. As in, “Skyler, you can only bring one bear to bed with you.” I’m all, “WHAT?!”

Wait, I should also let you know that there is not just one BearBear, although Skyler didn’t know it at that point. We have two, well three really, BearBears. They’re in rotation. Rather, two of them are in rotation but we had to pull the third because his outfit could be removed but the other two had outfits that couldn’t be and we were worried she’d figure out the ruse. When I realized how much she loved BearBear I bought a couple more on Ebay so that we’d never have to search for BearBear in the middle of the night, or break her heart if she
lost him. Because it is IMPORTANT to me that she LOVES BearBear. And LOVE means something. TO. ME.

Obviously that is one flaw in the Baby Bear Pink idea. But what really got to me is how she was completely willing to abandon BearBear, her confidante, her security, her soulmate, her FRIEND for some random pink bear. I was sad that suddenly it seemed as though the only person that was really worried about BearBear was me. Yes, I’ll admit it, I love that bear. That bear has kept my daughter emotionally safe for years. I love that bear.

I was worried for nothing though. Because now that the novelty of Baby Bear Pink has worn off, she is often forgotten. Skyler still sleeps with BearBear. AND Baby Bear Pink, and some random pink hamster. And anybody else she can fit in her tiny little arms. But always BearBear. And last night when I snuck into her room to kiss her goodnight, Baby Bear Pink was on the floor. And BearBear? Nestled safely in her arms. That’s my girl.

The Cute Kid Debacle

Debacle is a great word. This is probably not an ACTUAL debacle, more of one of those little non-events that make my life somewhat interesting and slightly humourous.

I heard on the radio of this contest of cute kids in which you could win a brand new car. Check it: a BRAND NEW CAR. Do I actually need a brand new car? No. Could I even fit my entire family into the car they were offering? Again, no. But I DO have cute kids, and I DO love to win things, so I figured I had this in the bag and should enter immediately. Without delay. So I sped home, whipped the kids out of their carseats and powered up the old internet. I chose some adorable pictures of my children and entered the contest.

This contest lets the viewers vote on the cutest kids, rating each child out of 10. When voting began you could actually see the score of the child and where they stood in the ratings. I raised an eyebrow at this. I worked it though with facebook status updates, such as:

Sarah Davidson Hey! Somebody is voting my kids DOWN! I don't think I like this contest!

Followed by:

Sarah Davidson I suspect that some of the leaders are probably voting others down.

And then:

Sarah Davidson Okay so now I am feeling bad for the people whose kids are on the last page so I'm giving them all 10s because how mean is it to say somebody's kid is only a 2.5?! They could get stuck with that label for life! They'll start dating 4s even though they're really 7s and could possibly be dating 8s. It's just not right.

At this point I decided to email the guy in the promotions department to mention this alarming fact. We do NOT want 7s dating 4s if they can get 8s. Right?

12/02/2011

To c___@radio.astral.com

From:	SuperMommy
Sent:	February 12, 2011 2:05:52 PM
To:	C__@radio.astral.com

Okay so I entered my kids in your cute baby contest thinking, why not, it's time those little ingrates started earning their keep. I am shamelessly exploiting my kids trying to win a new car. And I don't even need a new car. I'm told these are the types of hobbies housewives should have. Seemed like a good idea at the time. My kids are usually pretty cute when they're not driving me completely insane at the market or even better, in the bank. They're good kids. We like them.
So I've come to realize this voting thing is kind of mean but more importantly, could be really damaging! I am feeling bad for the people whose kids are on the last page so I'm giving them all 10s because how mean is it to say somebody's kid is only a 2.5?! They could get stuck with that label for life! They'll start dating 4s even though they're really 7s and could possibly be dating 8s. It's just not right. So anyways, I hope when you guys choose a winner you choose a 2.5 because I bet you last night's leftovers that some of those 7s are going around voting down all the babies that are uber-cute. So even if their KIDS are 7s the PARENTS are 2s and should just be ashamed.

Regards,

SuperMommy

It’s funny how the anonymity of the internet allows you to be cheeky to people you’ve never met. After that email they did change the contest so you couldn’t see the scores but the photos were still arranged by popularity. My status update:

Sarah Davidson It used to show their scores but they changed it. Now you can tell when you hit "browse" as it takes you to the first page. Mine have no chance though because every time a kid gets on that front page they get assaulted with low votes. It's really sad!

Could I stop there? Have we met? Of course I couldn’t. Not without a little more sass. Back to the old emailer:

To c___@radio.astral.com

From:	SuperMommy
Sent:	February 13, 2011 7:17:45 AM
To: c___@radio.astral.com

Don't know if you got the first one but that's okay as I often carry out one-sided conversations. I like that you took off the ratings and the rating order although I think you've underestimated the mental capacity of your rabid car-coveting mothers. Have you never watched Toddlers and Tiaras? These ladies are not your average Isn't-My-Kid-Adorable cut of mommy. They know that when you hit browse those kids are lined up nice and neat in order of votes and they assault the leaders with a barrage of low votes. Cutthroat. I've never seen such a thing.

Have a nice day!

SuperMommy

I can tell you whose kids AREN’T going to win this contest! :)

Anyhow, I did actually get a reply, which surprised the pants off me!

To Sarah Davidson

From:	McWilliam, Crosby
Sent:	February 13, 2011 8:35:09 AM
To:	SuperMommy

Hi Supermommy,

Thanks for your emails. We appreciate your observations and as you noticed removed the viewer on the ratings in order to protect the kids. We're working on another way of displaying the photos alphabetically in the hopes that there's no perception of who's in first, but it might take a day or so to make that active if our web people can do it at all...

Thanks again for writing.

Crosby McWilliam

Promotions Director

Virgin Radio

I find it equally interesting when you write someone with cheek and sass and they respond to you like you are a regular sane and reasonable person. He must deal with crazies all the time. I look forward to seeing if their web people are able to alphabetize.

In Which SuperMommy Loses her Mind and Enacts Martial Law Over the Household

Well come on, we all knew it was coming.

Right now Marcus is in his room hurling insults at me as I blog about him. Luckily the worst he can come up with is, “Mommy, you are a BABY! You are a BIG POO!” Pfft. Not even worth lifting an eyebrow. That the best you got, kid? I thought so.

Yesterday I had a moment when I realized that all I do, all day long, is clean up random messes. I dismally surveyed my hurricane-struck living room and absolutely lost it. I made the kids clean and clean and clean, issuing one job after the next. When Marcus complained I LOST IT COMPLETELY, got a big piece of newsprint and scrawled the new House Rule: When you are finished playing with something you MUST put it away before moving on to the next thing. NO EXCEPTIONS. I then taped it up in the dining room above the table as a daily reminder. Now, if only I could teach those kids to read...

Today I’m all over them. Well, all over Marcus, as he tends to be the maker of random messes and destroyer of my sanity. I’ve already had to call him into the kitchen to clean up a tag he cut in pieces out of his pants, a yogurt top that he dropped on the ground beside the garbage, and a craft he had made that he took down and left on the ground. I figure it’ll be two weeks of me being all over him and then he’ll get it. I don’t anticipate this to be a very lovely or fun two weeks, and I’m regretful that I haven’t had them be more responsible all the way through. But I’ve had it, and I know that I can’t just continue to clean up after these little rugrats because the messes are becoming more creative and I’m beginning to think they’re doing it on purpose.

I don’t know why it happens but it feels like behaviour comes in waves around here. Right now it’s storming. Marcus is being rude and crabby at us, the messes have increased, and his randomness is as random as ever. Skyler has developed an acute case of selective hearing. I’m going to take her to the doctor and get her tested for naughtiness. I’m pretty sure she’s got it. Talia of course continues to be a doll, but unfortunately she is a doll that refuses to be placed on the floor, playmat, in somebody else’s arms, the exersaucer, the jolly jumper, or ANYWHERE THAT IS NOT ON MOMMY.

So to make a long story short, I’m losing it completely. Luckily today is grocery day and there is a grocery store that MINDS YOUR CHILDREN in a play area while you shop. Without your kids. I can’t even believe such a thing exists. I’m going to start shopping in small batches, a little bit every day. Every single day. Dear QF: Thank you for being you. I love you. Forever yours, SuperMommy.

Herding Cats: Not a Bad Job if You Can Get It

I’ve got a real love-hate relationship with my current job duties. Most days as I’m cleaning toilets or miserably contemplating what to make for dinner I stop and consider my two degrees and wonder if I may be overqualified for this gig. Funnily enough though, my worst day of parenting is still better than my best day at work, and I actually really love teaching. Parenting definitely has its perks, so here are my top 10 reasons why herding cats isn’t all bad:

10. In the summer you can spend your days lounging at the beach in the warm sunshine and it is considered to be both selfless and good parenting. SUNTANNING, people.

9. People give your children very cool toys that you get to play with as part of your work “duties”. Three words: Night. Vision. Goggles.

8. In the winter you get to go tobogganing. Again, considered to be good parenting.

7. In the winter you can also throw snowballs at your little terrorists and not have to worry about repercussions because fortunately you haven’t yet corrected their jelly-like throwing style.

6. If you laze out and make Kraft Dinner and Shake N Bake for dinner you get a standing O.

5. You never get lonely while on the toilet.

4. You get seconds and thirds because your children refuse to eat their dinners.

3. You get lots of fresh air because you know you need to get them out of the house before they or you or both become completely insane.

2. You never have a problem coming up with new facebook status updates because they are always doing something random.

1. You can choose to wear your jammies ALL DAY and your employers think it’s AWESOME and decide to wear their jammies all day too.

Why would I ever go back to work?! Well, besides that whole disposable income thing. That was nice to have.

The Clothing Neurosis

Marcus is not your average happy-go-lucky kind of kid. He’s intense. He’s sensitive. He furrows his brow and gives the stink-eye on a regular basis. He takes things very seriously and likes things to happen in a certain way. When he was a little younger he used to script out conversations and play for us. As in, “No, Mommy, my guy says let’s go and then YOUR guy says okay.” So much for spontaneity. He doesn’t like milk that has already been poured and then stored in the fridge. It has to be NEW milk, from the jug. You can imagine my friend D’s surprise when we were visiting her house and Marcus asked for some milk, “... But NEW milk. Not milk from the fridge.” We advised her to buy a cow.

Anyhow, that being said we didn’t find it particularly concerning when several months ago Marcus began to have issues with his clothes. He didn’t like clothes that didn’t fit properly, which was fine because hey, who does? But then it started to escalate. He didn’t like any of his clothes anymore. He’d get changed several times each morning, and each time he’d get more and more frustrated. “There’s LUMPS in the front!!!” He’d frantically try to smooth them out but he couldn’t. By the time he was dressed he was in tears, I was fed up, and nobody was happy. We got him some nice new clothes for Christmas and were so careful to choose out pants that would fit him well. We were so sad when the new pants were rejected as soundly as the old pants.

Finally, when David was dropping Marcus off at preschool the other day, he decided to investigate. Marcus was beginning to panic about his clothes as he was changing his shoes and David said, “Marcus, WHY does it bother you that there are lumps in your pants?” “Because J and C (his best school buddies, or so we thought) say that my clothes are too big and have lumps in them and it makes me sad.”

Oh. My. Goodness. When David came home for lunch and told me this tale I was so upset. Somebody is hurting my little boy. Now I am going to have to go all the way over to the preschool, find the little kids that are doing this, and hurt them. No, wait, I can’t do that. That’s not going to work.

The worst part for me was realizing that Marcus had been struggling with this for MONTHS and HADN’T TOLD US. And when he said that he didn’t like school we dismissed it because we thought he just didn’t want to go because he liked hanging with us more. When we asked him why he didn’t like school he said because he’d rather be with Mommy. Well no kidding, Mommy never makes fun of him!

The instinct when hearing that he’s being teased is to provide him with a full arsenal of rebuttals and insults. If we followed our initial physical response we’d have that guy speaking like a newly-released convict with a bad attitude. But I realized that isn’t going to work. The other kid is always going to have a better comeback and he’s going to have it on the fly. Marcus would have to wait until he got home to get a new one from Mom and Dad because he just doesn’t have that kind of a mind. He’s not a mean kid, and so far his best insults are to stick his tongue out or call somebody an idiot (Thank you Disney-Pixar). We realized that we were going to need to teach him the most important lesson—how to be strong. How to look somebody in the eye and say, “I don’t care what you think. I like me.”

I let the preschool know what is going on but I didn’t give the boys names and I told them that we were handling this at home but I just wanted them to be aware. There will always be people in life that will try to make you feel bad about yourself. You have a choice to give those people power by letting it affect you or to take their power away by being strong. We explained to Marcus that there is nothing wrong with his clothes. We told him that if anybody teases him in a way that makes him sad, he has the right to tell them that they are wrong, to tell them that he likes his clothes, and to tell them to worry about themselves. We also told him that if he feels like he needs backup to go tell a teacher and to TELL US when he gets home. I hope that he heard us, but I have a feeling that he did. Today when he was getting dressed he chose out a slightly baggy dinosaur shirt that he got for Christmas, really liked, but hasn’t really worn. And he looked great.

Check. Your. Kid.

This may come across as catty, but I flat-out do not care. If you are sitting on your duff playing with your i-phone with your nicely manicured nails, taking a moment here and there to preen your chemically straightened hair while your child is CAUSING HAVOC all over the flipping place then YOU HAVE IT COMING TO YOU! Today’s parenting fail thankfully is not mine. Well, it is a little, but mostly not.

There’s this kid in Marcus’s gymnastics class that is a holy terror. He NEVER listens, he ALWAYS hits and he rarely does the things he is supposed to do. His mom sits on the bench and watches and sometimes threatens to take him home (although they’ve never left yet). So today Skyler had to use the bathroom which is just off of the gymnastics room. I’m sitting with Talia on an exercise ball outside of the bathroom beside a bucket of balls. Normally I wouldn’t mess with another person’s kid just randomly, but that little monster came up to the bucket of balls and started throwing them at me. Before I even realized that he was doing it intentionally he beaned Talia in the head. I looked up for his mom but she was TEXTING (parenting fail!). I looked him in the eye and said, firmly, “That is NOT okay.” He looked back at me, picked up another ball, and chucked it at me. I got down to his level and quietly informed him that SANTA did not bring presents to boys and girls that are NAUGHTY and he better be careful because SANTA is watching RIGHT NOW!!! (Have I mentioned how December is my favourite month?) He then proceeded to pick up every ball in the bin and toss them onto the floor, which was fine with me because thank goodness he was not my child. His mom was still texting. After he emptied out the balls he was going for the hula hoops but I decided that I didn’t want him chucking around things that were hard so I held them in the bin and stared him down. His mom FINALLY came over to collect him. She was about to walk away with him so I said, “He just emptied all those balls out there.” And pointed. So that she would know exactly which balls she would need to clean up. And she gave him heck and made him pick them up, threatened to take him home again, then sent him back to his class. After Skyler was done in the bathroom I saw the boy head-butt another boy. Mom was nowhere to be seen. As we walked through the lobby I saw her talking to another mom. I said, “He just head-butted another kid. You may want to go in there.” And she did eventually meander back to the room, after she finished her conversation. Lady, you want to be lazy and self-indulgent, that’s your problem. Your bad parenting is going to become society’s problem and that sucks. Parenting is easy. You just have to check in. React. Follow through.

My kids aren’t perfect. But they’re more imperfect in a funny and entertaining way. Their public displays are usually somewhat containable and if they're not then WE LEAVE. Because my kids are MY problem (not that I think of them as a problem), not anybody else's, and they should not be allowed to disrupt at random. When that little turkey runs away in gymnastics class seven other kids have to stand there waiting while the teacher goes to collect him. Don't even get me started about what happens in classrooms!

Breathe deep. Find your happy place.

Skyler is my funny girl. I think she’s going to grow into a funny woman, and goodness knows I like a funny woman.

When I put her in her bed she’s always wearing appropriate attire. She has many sets of lovely pyjamas; she chooses her own out and she puts them on willingly. But something happens to her in the night (or during the day if she’s napping). She undergoes a miraculous transformation. She never awakens in the same outfit she went to sleep in. One night I went in there and she was wearing her tiara and sleeping peacefully. The other day she woke up in her hockey jersey (that’s my girl!). One day I put her down for nap in my bed. I went in when she awoke and saw a hint of lime green sticking out of the waistband of her pants. “What’s this?” I asked. “I’m wearing your panties!” she smiled. Hmm, I don’t have any lime green panties. She was wearing my sports bra under her pants like a pair of panties.

Marcus has been using many of our words against us lately and he’s finding himself in his room more often than he cares for. Today he was chasing Skyler down trying to talk her into giving him a toy and she smacked him when he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He came to complain to me and I shrugged and told him he should have listened to her when she said no the first five times. Once he confirmed that I was unwilling to parent her he decided the right move would be to go parent her himself. “Skyler, it is never okay to hit. What could you have done instead?” My smart little cookie replied, “Barcus, I told you no and you didn’t LISTEN!”

He gets so crabby sometimes. I sent him off to school the other day crabby and I worried about him all day. That evening I asked him if he was crabby at school and he said no. I wanted to know why he was so crabby here and not at school. “We’re not allowed to be crabby at school,” he said. You’re allowed to be crabby here?! I had to know what the secret was. How do they enforce the non-crabby rule? What happens if you’re crabby at school? “You have to sit on the stairs and the teacher talks to you.” That’s it? Because I can do that! I DO do that! You’re still crabby when I do that!