I am not what you would consider a strict parent, but on the rules that I do have, I do not budge. One such rule is no swearing, and I don’t just limit that to 4- letter words. I also prohibit what I call “ugly” words. Words like dumb, stupid, hate, idiot, “oh my God,” and shut up are also not allowed to be used. To lead by example, David and I try not to use them either. So you can imagine my shock when my adorable little four year old comes down the stairs, nicely dressed and with a clean face ready to go out the to Cheesecake Gallery for dinner on Friday night and said, “OK Momma, I’m ready to get the hell out of here.” Despite my utter shock, I laughed. I just couldn’t believe not only what he said, but how unaffected he was by it. Like we’ve been talking like that for years. Of course after I laughed, he said it again, twice. Now I would have to do some damage control.

“Colin, we don’t talk like that in this house,” I scolded, desperately trying to maintain a straight face.
“Well, Daddy says it,” Colin replies, knowing that he would get himself off the hook and put Daddy on it.
“Well, Daddy shouldn’t talk like that either, Colin,” I reply, making sure that I was in ear shot of David, just as a friendly reminder.

I know that someday I’ll be wishing for such insignificant problems, and I may seem like a prude. But I have noticed already with my boys that if you give an inch, they’ll take it, and a couple more. If I allow “hell,” it won’t be long until all the others weasel their way in.

So we enjoyed our dinner, despite the stupid weather.

What is it with boys and wrestling? Is it a trait that they’re born with, like men and tools or girls and nail polish? It must be genetic, because we have never watched wrestling, but they instinctively know how to do a headlock and a half nelson.

It all starts when they “play wrestle” and I swear, I could charge admission and sell big foam fingers. Whenever they start, it’s fun and they’re laughing but a song always plays in my head. It’s Waylon Jennings’ “Someone’s gonna get hurt before we’re through,” and almost always, someone does. Once it goes bad, I separate them, but they just won’t leave each other alone. Even if it’s one flicking the other’s ear, or tapping the other’s head, they just need to pick. Of course, that turns to more fighting.

Two days a week, Colin goes to day care. He likes it, and has many friends there. Evan has a babysitter as he says he is “too old” for day care. Would you believe that when Colin is not at home, Evan does not know what to do with himself? When we bring Colin home, he runs to his brother and they hug like they were separated at birth.

Then, usually Colin, will flick Evan’s ear. And then that song plays in my head.

What is it with boys and wrestling? Is it a trait that they’re born with, like men and tools or girls and nail polish? It must be genetic, because we have never watched wrestling, but they instinctively know how to do a headlock and a half nelson.

It all starts when they “play wrestle” and I swear, I could charge admission and sell big foam fingers. Whenever they start, it’s fun and they’re laughing but a song always plays in my head. It’s Waylon Jennings’ “Someone’s gonna get hurt before we’re through,” and almost always, someone does. Once it goes bad, I separate them, but they just won’t leave each other alone. Even if it’s one flicking the other’s ear, or tapping the other’s head, they just need to pick. Of course, that turns to more fighting.

Two days a week, Colin goes to day care. He likes it, and has many friends there. Evan has a babysitter as he says he is “too old” for day care. Would you believe that when Colin is not at home, Evan does not know what to do with himself? When we bring Colin home, he runs to his brother and they hug like they were separated at birth.

Then, usually Colin, will flick Evan’s ear. And then that song plays in my head.

What is it with boys and wrestling? Is it a trait that they’re born with, like men and tools or girls and nail polish? It must be genetic, because we have never watched wrestling, but they instinctively know how to do a headlock and a half nelson.

It all starts when they “play wrestle” and I swear, I could charge admission and sell big foam fingers. Whenever they start, it’s fun and they’re laughing but a song always plays in my head. It’s Waylon Jennings’ “Someone’s gonna get hurt before we’re through,” and almost always, someone does. Once it goes bad, I separate them, but they just won’t leave each other alone. Even if it’s one flicking the other’s ear, or tapping the other’s head, they just need to pick. Of course, that turns to more fighting.

Two days a week, Colin goes to day care. He likes it, and has many friends there. Evan has a babysitter as he says he is “too old” for day care. Would you believe that when Colin is not at home, Evan does not know what to do with himself? When we bring Colin home, he runs to his brother and they hug like they were separated at birth.

Then, usually Colin, will flick Evan’s ear. And then that song plays in my head.

So we packed up and headed for PEI for a little vacation, just myself, Evan, Colin and Rah-Rah. Who’s Rah-Rah you ask? Their aunt has been called Rah-Rah since the very beginning. No one quite knows why. It could have been that Lynn was too hard to pronounce as Colin still can’t pronounce his L’s. But we always joke that it’s because of her “Rah-Rah-shish-boom-bah” like personality!

We stayed at a wonderful little cabin in Cavendish, and I emphasize little. It’s not that we didn’t have a great time, we did. It’s just that the longer one spends away from home, the closer the walls come in. Top that off with a 5-hour drive being in even closer quarters, and you’ve got, shall we say, “quality time.”

Arriving at the cabin, you would have thought that we were at Wayne Manor. They were so excited to be away from home. Evan announced immediately that he was sleeping by himself. Of course that meant that Colin was also sleeping by himself. We thought it was appropriate to give Rah-Rah her own room, seeing as she paid for it. So that left me on the couch. Not to worry, I had a sneaking suspicion that I would be sleeping with one, if not both tired and home-sick boys. But humor them I did and sure enough, there was an empty bed both nights.

We played mini golf, went to a wonderful theme park called Shining Waters, where we spent most of the afternoon, ate at a restaurant with some cousins, swam like crazy, and had a beautiful lobster dinner. The entire 48 hours on the island, my sons had their eyes out for one thing. No, not Anne, not the beautiful beaches, not red sand or the incredible bridge. No, they would not be happy until they found, of all things, slushies! Ice mixed with sugar and food colouring served in a cup with a huge straw. So on the way home, at an ugly gas station just before the bridge and just before 8 am, my sons finally got what they were waitig for.

And then they got ‘brain freeze’ and blue tongues.

I try to take every situation and turn it into an opportunity to teach my kids something about life. Recently, this really backfired on me. I was walking my 6 year old up the stairs to bed, when we noticed police lights outside. Evan was scared for a few minutes, but I reassured him that the police had stopped someone driving down the road. We saw what appeared to be a young, clean-cut man who may have been stopped for drinking and driving. I say that because they took a long time and they were waiting for backup.

“Did he not have his seat belt on, Mommy?” Evan asked innocently.
“Oh Evan, I think he’s in much more trouble than that,” I answered.
“Why?” Evan asked.
I had two choices here. I could make something up and not go into all the dirty details, or I could tell him the truth. Instill in him at the tender age of 6 how one stupid decision can affect the course of the rest of your life. I chose the latter.
“Well Evan, that boy had some beer and drove his car, and you can never do that. He should have called his mommy, or walked” I said .
“Maybe it was too far to walk, or maybe his mommy wasn’t home,” he answered back.
I panicked. He was making excuses.
“Evan, you must never have a beer and drive a car,” I said very firmly.
“Or smoke, right Mommy?” he said waiting for my approval.
“That’s right, or smoke.”
“What will happen to that boy?” he asked.
Again, I could have made something up but, I go for the lesson.
“Well, his name will be in my newspaper, and everyone will read it and he will be embarrassed. And if he has a job that he needs to drive to, he might lose it because he won’t have a license. Without a job, he might not be able to pay his bills.” I know that was a lot for a 6 year old. But I couldn’t let the guy off easy. This was, after all, a lesson.
“Mommy, you have to stop it,” he now looked upset.
“Evan, it’s too late for me to do anything. He made the stupid decision to drive.”
“Mommy, stupid’s a bad word,” He said.
“Yes, you’re right. Good night Evan.” I felt good about how this played out. He will remember that guy in 10 years when he’s 16, and won’t drink and drive.

The next morning, that guy was all but forgotten. I was at work when Evan called.
“Mommy, did you stop it?” he asked.
“Stop what, Evan” I racked by brain to think of what he was talking about.
“Stop his name from going in the paper,” he said.
Now he would blame me for the destruction of this guy’s life.
“Evan, I can’t stop it. He did it. Don’t worry about it. He’ll be OK. Just play like 6 year olds play.” I start to panic again. Had I gone too far?
“Will his mommy be mad at him?” Evan asked innocently
OK, if I play my cards right, I can fix this.
“His mommy might be mad, but she will always love him no matter what he does. That is what mommies do,” I waited, and hoped that I had saved him from future therapy.
“I’m hungry and there’s nothing to eat,” he says.

Crisis averted.
Lesson for everyone: don’t drink and drive. Lesson for moms: don’t traumatize your kids with life’s lessons.

Any lessons you might like to share?

I try to take every situation and turn it into an opportunity to teach my kids something about life. Recently, this really backfired on me. I was walking my 6 year old up the stairs to bed, when we noticed police lights outside. Evan was scared for a few minutes, but I reassured him that the police had stopped someone driving down the road. We saw what appeared to be a young, clean-cut man who may have been stopped for drinking and driving. I say that because they took a long time and they were waiting for backup.

“Did he not have his seat belt on, Mommy?” Evan asked innocently.
“Oh Evan, I think he’s in much more trouble than that,” I answered.
“Why?” Evan asked.
I had two choices here. I could make something up and not go into all the dirty details, or I could tell him the truth. Instill in him at the tender age of 6 how one stupid decision can affect the course of the rest of your life. I chose the latter.
“Well Evan, that boy had some beer and drove his car, and you can never do that. He should have called his mommy, or walked” I said .
“Maybe it was too far to walk, or maybe his mommy wasn’t home,” he answered back.
I panicked. He was making excuses.
“Evan, you must never have a beer and drive a car,” I said very firmly.
“Or smoke, right Mommy?” he said waiting for my approval.
“That’s right, or smoke.”
“What will happen to that boy?” he asked.
Again, I could have made something up but, I go for the lesson.
“Well, his name will be in my newspaper, and everyone will read it and he will be embarrassed. And if he has a job that he needs to drive to, he might lose it because he won’t have a license. Without a job, he might not be able to pay his bills.” I know that was a lot for a 6 year old. But I couldn’t let the guy off easy. This was, after all, a lesson.
“Mommy, you have to stop it,” he now looked upset.
“Evan, it’s too late for me to do anything. He made the stupid decision to drive.”
“Mommy, stupid’s a bad word,” He said.
“Yes, you’re right. Good night Evan.” I felt good about how this played out. He will remember that guy in 10 years when he’s 16, and won’t drink and drive.

The next morning, that guy was all but forgotten. I was at work when Evan called.
“Mommy, did you stop it?” he asked.
“Stop what, Evan” I racked by brain to think of what he was talking about.
“Stop his name from going in the paper,” he said.
Now he would blame me for the destruction of this guy’s life.
“Evan, I can’t stop it. He did it. Don’t worry about it. He’ll be OK. Just play like 6 year olds play.” I start to panic again. Had I gone too far?
“Will his mommy be mad at him?” Evan asked innocently
OK, if I play my cards right, I can fix this.
“His mommy might be mad, but she will always love him no matter what he does. That is what mommies do,” I waited, and hoped that I had saved him from future therapy.
“I’m hungry and there’s nothing to eat,” he says.

Crisis averted.
Lesson for everyone: don’t drink and drive. Lesson for moms: don’t traumatize your kids with life’s lessons.

Any lessons you might like to share?

I try to take every situation and turn it into an opportunity to teach my kids something about life. Recently, this really backfired on me. I was walking my 6 year old up the stairs to bed, when we noticed police lights outside. Evan was scared for a few minutes, but I reassured him that the police had stopped someone driving down the road. We saw what appeared to be a young, clean-cut man who may have been stopped for drinking and driving. I say that because they took a long time and they were waiting for backup.

“Did he not have his seat belt on, Mommy?” Evan asked innocently.
“Oh Evan, I think he’s in much more trouble than that,” I answered.
“Why?” Evan asked.
I had two choices here. I could make something up and not go into all the dirty details, or I could tell him the truth. Instill in him at the tender age of 6 how one stupid decision can affect the course of the rest of your life. I chose the latter.
“Well Evan, that boy had some beer and drove his car, and you can never do that. He should have called his mommy, or walked” I said .
“Maybe it was too far to walk, or maybe his mommy wasn’t home,” he answered back.
I panicked. He was making excuses.
“Evan, you must never have a beer and drive a car,” I said very firmly.
“Or smoke, right Mommy?” he said waiting for my approval.
“That’s right, or smoke.”
“What will happen to that boy?” he asked.
Again, I could have made something up but, I go for the lesson.
“Well, his name will be in my newspaper, and everyone will read it and he will be embarrassed. And if he has a job that he needs to drive to, he might lose it because he won’t have a license. Without a job, he might not be able to pay his bills.” I know that was a lot for a 6 year old. But I couldn’t let the guy off easy. This was, after all, a lesson.
“Mommy, you have to stop it,” he now looked upset.
“Evan, it’s too late for me to do anything. He made the stupid decision to drive.”
“Mommy, stupid’s a bad word,” He said.
“Yes, you’re right. Good night Evan.” I felt good about how this played out. He will remember that guy in 10 years when he’s 16, and won’t drink and drive.

The next morning, that guy was all but forgotten. I was at work when Evan called.
“Mommy, did you stop it?” he asked.
“Stop what, Evan” I racked by brain to think of what he was talking about.
“Stop his name from going in the paper,” he said.
Now he would blame me for the destruction of this guy’s life.
“Evan, I can’t stop it. He did it. Don’t worry about it. He’ll be OK. Just play like 6 year olds play.” I start to panic again. Had I gone too far?
“Will his mommy be mad at him?” Evan asked innocently
OK, if I play my cards right, I can fix this.
“His mommy might be mad, but she will always love him no matter what he does. That is what mommies do,” I waited, and hoped that I had saved him from future therapy.
“I’m hungry and there’s nothing to eat,” he says.

Crisis averted.
Lesson for everyone: don’t drink and drive. Lesson for moms: don’t traumatize your kids with life’s lessons.

Any lessons you might like to share?

So I was adding new video to my Facebook account. Both videos were of my sons, Evan, 6 and Colin, 4. The video of Evan was of him playing piano at a recital and the one of Colin is him jumping into the pool like a maniac. Just before the piano recital, Evan was distraught because he was unsure of what song to play, like his decision would affect him for years to come. Colin, on the other hand, would not care what effects his decision today might make on tomorrow. So it got me thinking…how could 2 boys, who look like clones and who have been living in the same household, be so different? Did we raise them differently? Or are they born with little personnalities and parenting has little control of how it developes. Well, I think both are true. While I love them both equally, I must admit, that yes, we have parented them differently.

When we had Evan, we were terrified. We hovered over him so he wouldn’t break if he fell. When Colin came along, we couldn’t possibly be that cautious with 2. Colin soon realized that if he fell it wouldn’t hurt that bad. So which is better? Being extra cautious and analyzing your every decision, to the point where you might miss out on something great? Or throwing caution to the wind and not knowing or caring about the consequences? Only time will tell I suppose.
Good or bad, please feel free to share your stories of your kids.

Now I know this is a controversial topic, but I figured nothing’s better for a new blog than a hot topic.

Even before we had children, my husband and I decided to not be spankers. Now having said that, I don’t think I should be given a parenting medal of honor. My neighbors can tell you that I have used an alarming volume in disciplining my children. I often feel ashamed about that. I have also been known to lock myself in the bathroom while biting a towel. Probably not the most effective or sane way to discipline, but I have, to date, not spanked my kids. That’s not to say that I never will, although I hope for the strength to stick to my guns.

There are parents out there that do. Some that may be reading this, and there is no judgment here!! I always say “we do what works” and I decided that I couldn’t discipline my child for hitting, for example, by hitting. My husband isn’t so convinced. He was spanked, and I think he’s the most non-violent, calm person I know. I was not spanked, and I’m crazy! (kidding) I have very little memory of my childhood except I do remember the one and only time that someone was spanked in our home. My older sister Deanna wrote on the walls, and my father came home and spanked her. She was, I think, 6 so I would have been 3 and that is my first memory. I hid under the coffee table, and I remember the sound and her crying. We were never spanked again (thanks for taking that one for the team, Deanna).

I am not writing this because I think I have it all figured out. I don’t. And I can’t seem to get this “time out” thing to work out for me either. I use the “I don’t reward bad behavior” method. They lose things that matter to them. I know, I know, that won’t work forever. I think as they get older I’ll go back to the “lock myself in the bathroom method.” I’ll just have to remember to get some good magazines.

What are your thoughts?
Next week’s blog: Nature vs nurture.