Meanest Mom in Minnesota...

...a title bestowed upon me, today, by my oldest.  I have so many people I want to thank for this honor; the adults in my life who never let me get away with all the crap I pulled, all the adults in my life who did and showed me what happens when spoiled naughty kids get their way.  (I was a spoiled naughty kid, the truth is out.)

Sometimes I wonder if I'm "too" mean.  But then I get compliments on A's manners and intellect and I remember why I do the things I do with regards to disciplining her.  Of course, different discipline methods resonate in different ways with different kids; I don't even approach N the same as I do A, and they're both my own.  She's her own personal brand of naughty that requires discipline tailor-made to fit her.  Every day I worry that N won't garner the same compliments from teachers and strangers in public places on her adequate use of please's and thank you's and self-control, but I do the best I can.

Such poise.  So proper.  So cerebral.

For A, she's so sensitive that it doesn't take much to make me "the meanest mom ever".  As a baby, if she grabbed for something hot or sharp, I'd tap the back of her hand which would send her into hysterics.  The first time my dad ("Papa") ever said the word no to her, she was eleven months old and you would've thought he had ran over her puppy and made her watch, by the way she reacted.  Sending her to her room is akin to saying, "A, as the wicked queen of the house I hereby banish you to your tower, only to return to the lower levels of the castle upon successful eradication of all traces of your first grade social life."  I take away dolls, I make her eat the food I give her (careful to remember what she refuses to eat so I try not to serve it again, veggies notwithstanding; the "eat it or starve" fight gets old fast), I've threatened to keep her home from parties if she was unsuccessful in completing her chores for the week, I've emptied out her entire playroom in one big sweep after nagging her for a week to clean it, and every time thereafter that I've requested a room get cleaned it is followed by "Or I'll be happy to clean it for you".  I count and at the end of counting I do not allow another count, instead swiftly doling out the consequences through protests and stomping and tears, and any physical outbursts on her part are dealt with fairly seriously.  Oh, and once, I took away every single dress she owned for two weeks.  Effective.  One and done was her norm; I didn't often need to repeat myself, she learned the first time.  I'm lucky, with this one.  Schoolwork is done immediately upon arriving home, after which if her backpack isn't picked up from the floor it is mine the following day and she brings her stuff to school in a plastic bag.  She hasn't left that bag on the floor ever since.

Sweet and sassy, but at least her room is clean.

N is different.  Saying "No!" doesn't stop her, it accelerates her speed towards the naughty.  Redirecting is impossible, as N never forgets.  This doesn't mean I don't try.  It just means that instead of satisfaction in the form of a child that cooperates, I have to sit on the floor with her in a quiet space and wait for her to stop screaming.  I still take things away and place them up high, even if it means she will panic for several hours after.  For N I put up gates and barriers and try to be as consistent as humanly possible.  I suppose the main difference is that I never tapped her hand, nothing physical ever, because she's such a strong-willed and emotionally volatile child I'm afraid any introduction to physical violence will incite her to be violent as well.

I'm sure pausing to take a picture of the naughty doesn't help her take us very seriously.

The astounding difference between the two kids has shown me how very individually each child should be dealt with.  They learn academics differently and so that they will learn how to behave differently should naturally follow.

I've learned that I can't be their friend, I have to be their mother first.  Even though A is still pushing boundaries for me at home, she is a model student, a wonderful friend to others, happy and well adjusted.  I try not to gauge how well I'm doing as a parent by the way she behaves at home, but rather by the way society is perceiving her as she sets out every day on her own path through the world.  We write notes to each other in a notebook and hide them under each other's pillows; just yesterday she was saying that I'm the nicest mommy ever.  I'm reassured that today's outcry against her punishment will pass and she will love me again in the morning.  Somedays I even appreciate N's resolve and strength of will; she's going to get what she wants in life, every time.

You'll no doubt be fooled by her sweet exterior.  This is why she is called the Trickster.

I've learned that one will resent the other every single time, since they perceive the difference in treatment as favoritism towards their sibling and discrimination towards them.  I try to explain this to A since she's older and can nearly understand; but in the moment?  She's glaring at her sister with jealousy and anger, and I can't blame her for the emotional reaction.

All I can do is the best I can do, as I always have tried.

So I'd like to raise a toast to my fellow mean moms.  I won the title this time, but with enough patience and commitment, I'm sure you'll earn your own mean mom stripes soon!