Today I went to the dentist for a consultation about a root canal. (Yes, I know that he is not just a dentist, but I don’t feel like getting the card so I can spell out what he is.) It started out normal. Take and x-ray, look at the tooth, poke at the tooth, talk about the tooth.

This is when the program deviated from it’s regularly scheduled programing. He broke out the q-tip with the pink goop on it. I quickly asked if he planned on doing the procedure today, he smiled, and said of course, that is what they scheduled you for.

Panic set in. This is not what I had planned. Shawn was supposed to be here with me, not in Colorado. I quickly decided that since I was already there and didn’t have time to get worked-up about it, to go for it.

Let’s just say that he used a whole lot of pain killer on me. My tooth was so decayed that the filling I got in ‘01 or ‘02 was actually floating in the tooth. I’m lucky that when a piece fell out the day of BB’s party here in the Sticks, that I didn’t get and stay sick.

Two hours later, lots of drilling and poking had gone on, and I was completely relaxed. I actually came out more relaxed than when I went in.

So now I get to eat things like this for dinner, and lunch, and breakfast.

That would be an egg salad sandwich, cut into 16 pieces. Which were still to big for me to eat in one bite. I must be 80.

Being a parent is one of the most difficult jobs in the world. It’s a thankless job most of the time where you never really get a day off, because even when you’re not with your kids, you’re thinking about them.

Parents are forced to make decisions they don’t want to make. Decisions that can change everything, and everyone has their two cents to add to it, me included of course.

The decisions and pressure start before the baby is even born. You have to choose breast, bottle, or both; stay at home or go back to work; disposable or cloth; jarred or hand mashed mush; home school, public school, or private school; vegetarian, vegan, low-carb, no-carb; and the list goes on. While all of these things are important and help to shape our children into the adults they will become, there are so many other things that occur in the day to day of life that we don’t even seem to consider sometimes.

I’m not talking about the big things like no TV, plastic toys, or things with batteries. I’m talking about whether we let them have choices or an opinion. Whether we let them make mistakes and fall down. To me, these are the important lessons in life.

My girls have opinions, about everything, and I do mean everything. If you were discussing a full-throated-V8 or a V6, they’d tell you to pick the one that is louder and faster, meaning the V8. Some people find this annoying, I find it endearing, well, most of the time. I don’t believe that children should only speak when spoken to. A child who can’t ask questions because they have to wait for an adult to start a conversation with them isn’t going to learn as much as a child who can ask questions all the live long day. Or at least until we scream, ” enough already I think my head is going to explode!”

If you say a “bad” word in front of my girls, they’ll let you know. They’ll tell you if they think you’re being mean or unfair. They’ll ask you why you limp, are in a cast, have to use a wheelchair, or any other thing that could possibly embarrass a parent in public. To me, this is a good thing and it makes me proud.

It gives me an opportunity to teach them tact, timing, and manners. Sometimes they’ll get an answer right away. Sometimes, I tell them that their question is rude, and why. It’s a learning experience for everyone involved.

I hope and pray that I’m teaching my girls the right things. Things like:

not being afraid to have an opinion
knowing when to keep their opinions to themselves
standing up for what they believe in or think is right, fair, and just
standing up for themselves or others without putting others down
being true to themselves
having pride in what they do
being humble (we’re working really hard on this one right now)

There are more but I’m sure you get my point.

More important than why they don’t eat something, is why they don’t like it, and letting that be ok. Letting them have an opinion and be able to voice it without fear of repercussion is important. While my girls like most vegetables, one doesn’t like green beans the other broccoli. At dinner I make both, and they eat at least one piece (hopefully two) of the vegetable they don’t like. They are not allowed to complain about dinner, but every once in a while I make a “let’s not have it again” for dinner. This is code for, “this is horrible, but I’m not going to be rude and say that it’s gross and I don’t think that the dog would even eat it.”

So, please don’t be offended if we’re at your house for dinner and you see one, or quite possibly both, of my girls whisper in my ear and then stop eating. If it’s something I can avoid serving them I will. If it’s something new I’ll make sure they give it an honest taste, but if they don’t like it, oh well, it’s not the end of the world. If you’re at my house I’ll extend the same courtesy to you and yours.

Thanks to SAJ and OMSH I now have a review blog over here.

I will attempt to link it on this page tomorrow. ( I have now written this same post 4 times)

First up Anna.

********Link fixed, I hope.**************

Disclaimer:

I jump perspectives a lot in this entry and I’m too tired to go back and fix it. So consider yourself warned.

Tonight Rapunzel and Kay-Kay went to a pool party type thingy with Sue. They had a lot of fun, and came home more wound up than when they left.

Sadly SuperChic did not get to go. It was a tough thing for her, but I’m hoping she learned a lesson.

It started this way.

Me, putting away Rapunzel’s clothes that she couldn’t put away, because her drawers were to full. The shirt drawer had six shirts in it. I don’t know how this is a full drawer, but apparently it was so full she was unable to put her clothes in it and subsequently shoved them into the set of drawers that is supposed to be used for her few toys.

Well, this put me in cleaning mode. Which if you ask anyone, doesn’t happen often enough, but when I get into it, I really get into it. So I cleaned Rapunzel’s room up nice and neat. I even vacuumed. She was very appreciative.

Now, SuperChic’s room, that would pretty much be the polar opposite. It started with her putting her stuffed animals away, meaning put them on her bed, which she did. Then, she put her dress-up clothes in her suitcase. So far, so good.

That is where the train derailed. From here we made an agreement, if she helped me clean until it was time for her to go, I would finish it while she was gone. She decided watching the Parent Trap with Rapunzel and Kay-Kay was more important. I gave her two more chances, both times she bailed on me.

So, I finished picking up the trash (which was her only actual chore to do since I had already put everything else away) and got ready to vacuum. She came running in trying to help, and I had to tell her it was too late, she did not get to go to the party. She begged, she pleaded, I didn’t give in.

Why did I even bother to go through the whole room by myself if I was trying to teach her a lesson? Her room stunk, which is pretty hard to accomplish when your room is on a screen porch, but she did it. Though it wasn’t really her fault, it was the cat’s. I say cat’s because I don’t know which one of the fifty-bazillion cat’s we have that actually did it.

What is “it”?, you ask. Let’s just say her room became their personal toilet. Luckily I was able to vacuum up the piles they left behind. Sadly, that did not eliminate the smell. I did finally find the source, it was her bed. One of them decided to pee all over it. It was really bad. Lucky for me her bed is covered in plastic. So after throwing her sheets, two baby blankets, two stuffed animals, and one dolly outfit into the dirty laundry. I sprayed her room with a Febreze like stuff, and called it a day.

While Sue was getting ready to go, SuperChic decided to play attack. The sad thing was I don’t think she told the other two girls what she was doing before she started. Rapunzel got hit with a stick and SuperChic was sent to her now-clean ready-to-play-in-room, with strict instructions not to play with anything.

After a few minutes she pulled a Bug, and came out saying she was all better and sorry for what she did. I told her to go back to her room, because I hadn’t told her she could come out yet. She went back, and was out again in about two minutes.

I again, told her to go back to her room and wait for me to go and get her before she came back out.

“But, Mommy, you never come for me.”

“Go to your room already.”

Sue and the girls leave. I turn off the water in the front yard, pick up some trash, go to the bathroom, you know, waste time. When I finally get to her room, she is sitting on her bed, that is still unmade, facing the door. So I sit down, trying to not let the plastic touch my bare legs,and wait for her to turn around. She waited a good 15-20 seconds before turning around to look at me.

I am getting very tired of this. She has this idea in her head that she is the boss, it doesn’t matter what I do or don’t do, it’s just the way it is. So I don’t need any advice or things to try with her, yet.

I ask her if she knows why I sent her to her room. She says yes. When I ask her why, she asks me if I know why I sent her to her room. Um, yeah, here is that bossy thing again.

When we finally get down to it, she admits it was because she hit Rapunzel with a stick. She told Rapunzel she was sorry, so why did she have to go to her room?

Because you hit Rapunzel with a stick and you weren’t really sorry.

Now, here is the fun part. I also explain, again, that I am the adult, she is the child. I am the Mommy, she is the Daughter. I am the boss, she is not.

“So when I tell you to go to your room, you stay there until I tell you you can come out. That does not mean you come out when you think you have been there long enough. So every time you come out, I will send you back, and your time starts over. ” (I don’t actually set a timer. I just figure when I think it’s been long enough. Some times it’s long enough that they fall asleep.)

After all of this she looks at me and asks if we’re “done talking about it yet?”

“Yep;” and away she bonces all smiles and giggles.

I know this is going to bite me in the butt, I just don’t know when.

She announced that she was hungry and wants dinner. I ask if popcorn and a movie is ok? She says sure, you can even pick the movie.

During the movie she tells me this, “you’re my bestest Mommy ever.”

“I’m you’re only Mommy ever.”

“That’s ok, you’re still the bestest.”

I guess all is forgiven.