My dad always wanted to be part of the Lion’s Club. This was a group of do-gooders in our small town, but you had to be nominated and accepted to get in. Finally, long after I was married, he got his wish. He attended their monthly meetings, got a funny little vest and hat, AND most importantly, he got to help with the Annual Easter Egg Hunt.
The Easter Egg Hunt was always held the day before Easter and it was open to any kid who showed up. And there were LOTS of kids who showed up! Parents were allowed in if they had a small child or a child with special needs. So I’m thinking it was around 1997 that he finally convinced us it was worth a two-hour drive to duke it out with a bunch of other parents over a couple of chocolate eggs and some jelly beans. So we piled the troops into the van (we only had six kids at the time) and we headed to my good old hometown.
The egg hunt started bright and early and we arrived only a few minutes before it began. My Dog Walker was four and he was still unable to really communicate, so he qualified for parental help under the special needs clause. My sweetie carried Princess and looked extremely uncomfortable. He hates stuff like this. I, on the other hand, have a killer instinct that I passed along to Bossy and the Gym Rat. They quickly elbowed their way to the front of the line and waited for the starting gun. Teach and the Drama Queen were on their own.
The field was the size of four softball diamonds with trees and bleachers. There was also a large playground and plenty of places to hide lots of good things. I pulled the Dog Walker’s hand and we started running. He was confused and had no idea what we were doing. He just wanted to get on the swings. My sweetie was faring only slightly better at the other end of the playground. We could see the older kids scattered about, scrambling after one egg or another as they were quickly snatched up by eager hands. Within 15 minutes the game was over. We gathered near the slide to tally up our winnings.
Most of the kids had nothing. The Drama Queen and Teach were both in tears. Bossy was ready to beat up anybody who came within five feet of her. The Gym Rat had a broken plastic egg with a couple of jellybeans. All hung their heads and trudged dejectedly to the van as we suddenly remembered why we usually stay far away from these community get-togethers.
About the time we hit the parking lot, we ran into Grandpa. He was all smiles. "Did you have a good time?" he asked hopefully. The kids tried to smile, really they did, but the empty baskets and the tears gave them away. Grandpa took one look at them and said, "Come on." They looked up. He motioned them toward his pickup truck. They crowded around as he opened the driver’s side door. On the seat sat a huge grocery sack filled with Easter candy. He laughed as he dumped a pile in each offered basket. "I can’t let you go home empty handed!" he said. Tears turned to smiles and suddenly it was all worth it.
P.S. We attended that Egg Hunt on other years and Grandpa got very creative with his candy-giving. One year he followed me and the Dog Walker around and dropped eggs in the grass just in front of him so he could pick them up. He always made sure the kids had fun. Thanks Grandpa!
I promised you a blog on discipline this week. Now I’m kind of wishing I hadn’t. Discipline is a scary subject and I certainly don’t want DCFS pounding on my door because I said the wrong thing. The only thing I really know about discipline is that it has to be individual. What works for one child may not be what works for another.
The Drama Queen was an excellent child for the most part. She was kind and helpful with her siblings, she was an amazing student, she had good friends and she stayed out of trouble. I called her my Right Arm because she and I seemed to be always on the same wavelength. She was not the kind of girl to respond to corporal punishment nor was she a stranger to hard work. In fact, when she comes home, she will often make my bathrooms sparkle. Her only "flaw" is that when she gets lost in a book, she can ignore anything.
So one day her dad asked her to do something for him…I don’t remember what, probably some little thing. After the fourth or fifth time, he got angry, hid her book and grounded her from reading for two weeks. It was some of the longest two weeks of my life! She was absolutely miserable! We had found the thing that she just couldn’t bear to give up and that became the ultimate punishment for her.
If you’ve been reading my blog for a little while, you will know that the Prima Donna just got her first cell phone. She would rather do almost anything than give up that phone. We’ve found her ultimate punishment. But that would never work with the Dog Walker. He likes his phone, but half the time he doesn’t even know where it is. I’ve told you that we helped him learn to control his temper with hard work. That is the best punishment for him now, but when he was little, he was totally out of control. He could usually understand what I was saying to him, but he couldn’t verbalize well enough to respond appropriately.
One day when he was about six we were having trouble keeping him inside. We had put chains high up on the doors and somehow he had managed to get himself outside anyway. When I finally got him in and safe, I gave him his very first spanking. It wasn’t that hard, but he knew I was upset about his choices and that was punctuated with a swat on his behind. He was very unhappy. That one memory worked to keep him in line for about six or seven years. All I had to do was threaten with a spanking and he would fall into line. Then by the time he was 12 or 13 the extra work was enough to deter bad behavior.
The Gym Rat had a volatile temper when he was little (I know, crazy, huh!?) because he is so mellow now. One time he was so out of control that we tied him to a chair with his socks. In hindsight, I don’t think that was a great idea, but at the time it seemed like our best option. It only took him about 20 minutes to calm down and we were able to talk to him reasonably.
I guess my theories on discipline are simple…never spank a child because you are angry. That’s when things get out of control. If you do spank, don’t do it because your child hit someone…obviously. Look for what would work for that specific child. Don’t worry so much about making everything "fair." Fair is an illusion anyway. Plan on changing your plan. Kids grow up and what works now may not always work. I’ve never had a kid who really responded to a "timeout," so I don’t make that choice. Hard jobs are still my favorite form of punishment because they benefit the family while they force the perpetrator to pay his or her dues. They also work for almost every age.
Conversation overheard at my house today…
Sport: Ouch! Quit throwing things at me! Mom! Curly threw a tape dispenser at me!
Curly: Mom! Sport is being a bad example.
Mom: What did he do?
Curly: He yelled at me.
Thanks all for sticking with me for the last 90 days! It’s actually our 3-month anniversary of the blog today. Some days it is so hard to drag myself in here and start writing. I like clicking on all of your links and reading your stories. That generally gets my creative juices flowing or reminds me of something similar that happened to me. So thanks for being my inspiration too. I hope we have many more happy days together.
In our family we also just passed another huge milestone. Gamer has smoked for 18 years, over half his life. When he married Bossy, he knew we were unhappy with the habit, so he never smoked around us. He was always careful to keep the cigarettes away from the kids so their little lungs would stay clean and healthy. Back in January, he made a resolution to finally quit and he has now passed three months without a single cigarette. We are so proud!
How are you doing on your New Year’s Resolutions? Mine was to exercise every day and so far I’ve done pretty well but it’s getting harder and harder. I’ve had a pain in my foot for about 6 weeks now. I finally got tired of it and drug myself in to see my doctor. Apparently, I am the proud owner of a couple of bone spurs and acute Achilles Tendonitis. He sent me to an orthopedic foot specialist. The answer is slow down the exercise, wear a splint at night, and do physical therapy. If I’m not a good girl, then I get to have surgery this summer. Why is it that sometimes when we try to do the right thing it ends up just making things worse?
Tell me your stories…
**Editor's Note: This is the continuation of yesterday's post. The events in this story take place in 1991. Part 1 here.**
The next morning dawned bright and beautiful in spite of our pending humility. My sweetie headed off to another long day at work and I set about dropping off the kids. When I got to the babysitter’s house, I was a few minutes early, so I stayed for a second to chat. "You really ought to call about that house," she said. She was well aware that we were planning to move. I shifted uncomfortably. "You know we can’t afford a house," I said. "We have absolutely nothing for a down-payment." She smiled. "But I don’t think you need one for that house," she replied. "The Credit Union had to foreclose on it and I heard they just want to get rid of it. Just call. What are you out?"
I wished her a happy day and got back in my car. She was right. What would I be out? I stopped and wrote the phone number on a scrap of paper, then hustled off to work. I didn’t think about it again until lunchtime. I fished around in my purse while I chewed on my sandwich. It was worth a try. I finally found the paper and punched the numbers into my phone. After 10 minutes, I ended the call and quickly placed another one.
My sweetie picked it up on the first ring. "Let’s buy a house!" I said breathlessly. "We can’t afford a house," he responded practically. I was not letting him burst my bubble. "We can afford this one," I said. He chuckled, "Worse than the one we are going to rent?" he guessed. "No, at least I don’t think so," I said. "It’s the one by the babysitter’s house." He sighed patiently, "There is no way we can afford that house," he said again. "We only need $2000.00!" I said.
"We don’t have $2000.00," was his rather irritating response. "Yeah, but if we don’t pay our bills for one month we can have $2000.00. Then we can get a home equity loan and pay the bills with just a little late fee," I suggested. "We’ve never been late before, so it shouldn’t even impact our credit." He was starting to see the beauty of the plan.
"Have you seen the house?" he asked. "No," I said. "But I will." We talked a little longer and hung up. I made arrangements to meet with a real estate agent right after work. We met at the house and started to walk through. A water pipe had broken and there was water and sheetrock and a muddy mess all over the floor in the upstairs hallway. Undaunted, we inspected the entire house. I knew in my heart it was the right place for us, so I arranged to have the agent come to our home later that evening.
He showed up right on time with the offer letter all drawn up. My sweetie had only been home from work for a few minutes. We gathered around the kitchen table and the agent and I began extolling the virtues of the house. Even with the water damage, the asking price of $67,000 was excellent. We wrote up the offer and my sweetie signed it without ever seeing the inside of the house. We both felt wonderful about the decision and when we hit our knees that night, we offered plenty of prayers of thanks.
As it turned out, we only got the house because we had the best agent in the entire world! The person he had to present the offer to was a state senator and the legislature was in session. So our agent actually ran it up to Capitol Hill and gave him the papers on his lunch break. Both of the other offers he received that day were delivered to his office at the Credit Union and he didn’t get them until after ours had been accepted.
Our plan was flawless. The Credit Union fixed up the house and within less than 30 days we were able to move in. Our home equity loan was approved the following day. I don’t believe we even had to pay any late fees. We were incredibly blessed for our willingness to humble ourselves. It’s a lesson that we have never forgotten. Now if we could just figure out how to stay out of debt…
Most of the kids had nothing. The Drama Queen and Teach were both in tears. Bossy was ready to beat up anybody who came within five feet of her. The Gym Rat had a broken plastic egg with a couple of jellybeans. All hung their heads and trudged dejectedly to the van as we suddenly remembered why we usually stay far away from these community get-togethers.
