It has been said that parenting is the most wonderful and the most horrible thing all rolled into one. When our sons were small, there were days that I felt like an animal trainer in the circus. “Up, boy!” “Down, boy!” “Sit, boy!” Once they were tucked away in bed, my husband and I would sneak in and spend a little time just looking at them. (I would probably do that now, but that would be creepy.) Anyway, the frustrations of the day seemed to fade away as we watched them resting peacefully.
Consistency is the key with parenting. Children have to know that you are serious about keeping the boundaries that you have set for them. I beg to differ with the man that sells the “Total Transformation” program that purports to have your children minding with respectful attitudes by sundown. Parenting is hard! It takes both parents on the same page, working in tandem to see to it that their children are raised to be decent, law-abiding citizens.
In our house, the rod was never spared…broken a few times, but never spared. For all the faults that John and I have, and the many times we have failed, we always backed each other up. Always wary that an uprising was in the making, we were not about to let them get the upper hand. Dividing and conquering was out of the question. Whether the issue was with me and a boy(s) or him and a boy(s), we both knew that the other had our back. Sometimes we tag teamed if the offense was of great significance. Other times, affirmation of the other parent’s position was stated as a simple, “Your dad is right” or “Mom has a point.” The inmates were not about to take over the asylum on our watch. We were rock solid. Well……..except for that one time…..
It had been one of those days, in a vehicle. Slapping, knocking, hitting, slinging and the boys were misbehaving, as well. We had upgraded from a Ford Aerostar to a full-size Chevy van just so they could not touch each other. We always carried three distinct personalities in our boys: the “daddy/rule maker” who always changed the rules if he was losing; the “sneaky/instigator” that would ding everybody to death out of sheer boredom; and the “emergency broadcast system/president of the world” that kept us apprised of everything the other two were doing in a very loud voice. This day all three personalities were kicking.
You really cannot blame my husband for what happened next. He was delirious from all the fighting and scratching that was taking place, just out of arms reach, in the back of the van. He had all he could take and exploded, “I’m going to beat your belts with my butt when we get home!!” You could have heard a pin drop. Complete silence. I whipped a crick in my neck as I turned my face to the window. I was almost certain that my lungs were about to explode. And yet, silence reigned. My mind raced as I wondered how to back that statement up. But, a united front had to be presented.
Therefore, I mustered my “mom face” and turned toward the back. In my most threatening tone I added, “And…that… will…not…be…pretty.” The rest of the ride home was amazingly quiet, except for the occasional snicker, or smothered laugh. And I must confess….they were mine.
