Scribbles and bricks

Today a Facebook friend posted about giving herself a timeout to avoid saying something harsh to her kiddo. I applaud this effort in self monitoring.  It got me thinking about my childhood and my parents, and their impact my own parenting.

In my case, the methods might differ, but the dramatic underpinning is well ingrained.

I famously didn't eat much as a child, and my intake was a constant worry for them. They pleaded, bargained, and threatened at nearly every meal. One night, my dad was at the end of his rope. He said, "If you don't eat what's in your dish, I'm going to pour it down your pants." This made me laugh out loud. Wrong move. Next thing I know, I'm slung over his arm, the back of my dungarees (cause that's what they called 'em then) were pulled back and a full bowl of warm rice, or possibly a savory risotto, slid slowly down my behind.

Of course, this ticked my mom off, because guess who's in the bathroom with me shaking rice out of my Wonder Woman Underoos? I remember diced carrots in there, too. Yep, risotto.

I haven't poured food down my kid's pants, but it could just be because he's a good eater. I'm not sure what I'd do if he didn't eat well. It would probably stress me out a lot. My husband can be picky, and I've had to hold back the temptation to tip his plate over his head when he doesn't finish it clean. Realistically, I couldn't manage to pour it down the back of his pants, so throwing the plate at him and promptly running away would be my best strategy. Then I would cry...sobs....about all my cooking effort, about his stupid stunted palate, and he'd feel bad for not eating. He would admit he had it coming. I win. That's how drama works!

See mom and pop? You did good! Lesson learned: feeble, non-enthusastic eaters suck and should be punished both physically and emotionally.

One afternoon, not too long after he painted the living room, my dad discovered fresh scribbles on the  wall. It wasn't me - I was well past wall-scribbling age at that point. One of my little brothers committed this heinous act. I remember some yelling, but what really sticks out is our assigned task that day: we were directed to locate every pen, pencil, marker and crayon in the house. Every room was checked. Every drawer, every shelf. When we'd collected about half a shoebox worth, he was satisfied and he threw the colorful treasure in the garbage - not the wastebasket - oh no - they went straight into the outside trash bin, ready for collection. No one would write anything, anywhere, anymore, dammit!

We eventually owned writing utensils once more, but no one ever marked the walls again.
Something about that day imprinted in my genetic code. My kid has never written on the walls...I don't think it has even crossed his mind. For a kid, he's taken pretty good care of his pens, pencils and crayons.

It sounds like I have a perfect child. Of course we know I don't. He leaves his underwear on the sofa. When this happens, I point it out and make the saddest, most hurt face I can muster. Underwear? On the sofa? How could you? This sad mommy face elicits swift action.

I've stepped barefoot on a Lego so fricken painfully, I've threatened to throw out every single brick he owns. I won't do that of course. Those little suckers are expensive! Their E-bay resale value is crazy. But that one-time threat, screaming and hopping on one foot, prompted a hurried clean up, and now he just needs a gentle reminder. I still step on them regularly though.

If my dad had the dramatic over-reaction down, my mom was the master of guilt (it's all in the tone).

When I accidentally vacuumed up a Lego, he was distraught. He figured out (with my help) that it's his responsibility to not leave Legos on the floor. Tired mom can't vacuum and be expected to pre-screen the rug for Legos. We're a team here - mommy needs your help, mmkay?
Now, just firing up the vacuum sends him down to the floor in search of runaway bricks.

With a masterful combination of guilt and drama, dispensed in careful doses, I think I might be winning at this marriage and parenting thing!

No?

Hmm. We'll chat more.