Where's the Dynamite?

Not exactly sure how to begin this post. I would love to always begin with something cleverly written and well versed... but the thoughts are fleeting at the moment. So I'll just move right onto the point of this particular post. As much as I wish I could keep a clean house, I know with three young children the dream is just as fleeting as my thoughts are. I've learned to accept that, as well as the fact that cleaning is a huge part of my day. But I do try. Because I like the feeling of relaxing in a clean home. However, there are two individuals in my family that love to test my limits. My beautiful lovely daughters. :) Well last night, Asilyn's room was in shambles! Looked as if her room vomited, profusely. The projectile kind. My husband had a pretty intense conversation with her over the dinner table. Threats, reiterations, repetitions, plenty of talk about how he wanted her room clean before he came home today. My objective today is to make sure that happens, because as much as I love her, I know discipline is an intricate piece to raising children, but I really don't want to see her... disciplined. I would like for her to just learn the spoken lesson the easy way. I've repeated the ultimatum several times today... and still.... nothing. She doesn't seem phased by the looming threat that daddy placed over her head, or that he'll be home within a few hours.


Rabbit Trail: Speaking of discipline, my husband and I do have one goal in mind when disciplining our children, to introduce responsibility, create awareness of others, respect, and to contribute to our family in a beneficial and productive manner. The methods of getting there, however, vary. Over the many years of doing this together, we've learned that regardless of our own beliefs and preferences, we never confront the other in front of the children, on the discipline taken. No small feat, as when it happens, and you don't particularly agree with what was said or done to remedy this situation, all those motherly/fatherly instincts well up inside and makes you want to jump in and be the hero. And again, over the years we've learned to compromise and accept what works for a particular parent, because we've definitely found that what works for one, doesn't always work for the other. My husband began this awhile back that whenever discipline was required, he would sit the child at fault down, explain to them what they've done, say a prayer together, asking for forgiveness and future understanding, and then proceeds to spank them in a non-violent, non-scarring manner. Afterwards, once the crying has calmed, they hug, kiss, and re-explain the situation and how better to handle that in the future. Brilliant! I, however, am more of the mind to follow all those above except the spanking, replacing a minute per their age in years timeout routine. It's not that I'm against spanking, it's just that my past helped to dictate my stance on the subject, that it would require something quite severe to deserve physical punishment. That if my job as a parent is to teach my children how to be productive members in society, learning how to manage mistakes and learn from them in the outside world doesn't have to resort to physical punishment. I'm the explain-er of the family, for sure, and I will explain til my voice was raw if it dawned a new understanding in my child's mind as to "why" this is the way it is and "why" it's to be done (or not to be done) this way. Their minds are sponges, and my method seems to work best for me and my children. I've had to learn that the hard way with my Autistic son who, upon being spanked, would go into a whirl spin, spiraling down into his own little box, closing himself off from me and what I was trying to explain. And then all was for naught as a simple spanking turned into a 2 hour ordeal. But that method doesn't work AT ALL for Tommy. They don't respect him enough to believe he'll follow through with keeping them in that time out seat or whatever the case may be. To each is our own. And we've learned to accept it, and the kids have learned to accept it as well. *End Rabbit Trail*


Anyway, back to the original story, I'm sure you were a little curious as to why my post is entitled "Where's the dynamite?". Well as I have been gently reminding my daughter this morning of what daddy said last night, and that he would be home soon, I walk into her room to see what all the fuss was about. As I said, the room vomited. I asked Asilyn and Kailyn as innocently as I could, "Asi, what happened to your room?!" and she looked up at me with her army green/brown eyes, so big and "precious moments" like, and in her tiny little voice, girly high-pitched and all, she replied, "It exploded! I was asleep and it exploded!" How can any mom be mad at that answer? Granted, it's the tell-tell signs of future excuses and lies as a coverup, but truly... what a doll-baby! And of course, typical me, I snatch up my camera and snap a few pics of the "exploded" room with two very sneaky little girls in the shot. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I have. ;) Oh and I have also posted pics of my girls having their morning chat with daddy on the phone... so like me!


Until another moment,