That Sounds Ridiculous

I got another me-like comment from Dolly yesterday. She was doing something, I can't remember what, and I was getting angry. As she was sitting on the bed continuing to do whatever it was that she was doing I told her, “I’m getting so angry I can hardly see straight.” She looked at me and said, “Then why don’t you put on your glasses?” I just went, “Huh?” So she said, “If you can’t see straight, why don’t you put on your glasses?” I don’t know if she was intending to be sarcastic or if she was just making a four-year-old-like comment but I didn’t know what to say. I also couldn’t be angry after that. It’s hard to continue to be angry when a child says something funny – intended or not.

It’s even harder to be angry when I say something that sounds totally ridiculous in the midst of anger. I discovered that about six years ago when I was still pregnant with Dolly. The boys were three and two at the time and were acting up. I think it had something to do with the litter boxes because I remember saying something to the effect of, “Stay away from the cat poop.” Once the word ‘poop’ was in the air, my anger dissipated. ‘Poop’ is just not a word that can be said when I’m really angry, if I intend to remain angry, anyway. Try it sometime. I’ll bet you start laughing once the word flies from your lips, especially if you’re yelling it.

Quite honestly, there are many things I never thought I’d say in my life; then I became a parent and found myself saying the most ridiculous things. These weren’t the ridiculous things I’d always accused my mother of saying. She asked what I call “Stupid Parent Questions.” Things like: “Don’t you know it hurts your sister when you hit her?” Um, yea, I do know. That was the point. Or she’d ask, “Do you want to take out the garbage?” Nope, not really; but thanks for asking. My favorite was, “Do you want to get smacked?” Yes please, twice if you don’t mind. I try not to ask questions like that to my kids but I’m sure one or two have slipped on occasion.

The things I’m talking about are things that, to a person without children, would sound completely absurd. Actually, they sound absurd to a person with children but at least that person can understand the meaning behind whatever I said, and can empathize. I’ve actually said to my kids, “Get your finger out of the dog’s nose,” and “Stop putting that bead in your ear before it gets stuck.” Those are things that I never would have imagined myself saying to another human being in a million years. Honestly, I don’t have many friends who try to bite my pets and need to be warned against it.

That happened a few times with the kids, though. Actually, it was just Zach. He was a biter when he was a toddler. I don’t know why, he just took to it. He looked just like Chucky from the “Child’s Play” movies when he went to bite someone, too. His little nose scrunched up, and his tiny mouth bared his baby teeth, and he just dove in for the kill, or bite, should I say. We had two dogs; one of them was a Huskie/Chow mix so she had really long fur. She got in Zach’s way occasionally and he’d try to bite her. He was warned, “Zach, stop trying to bite the dog,” which sounds totally nuts in and of itself. One day, though, my warning came a little late. He was already mid-bite when I noticed. The good thing was, because her fur was so long, he didn’t hit her skin, but he did come up with a mouth full of long, black dog fur. It was hard to be angry then, too, because the anger wouldn’t stick while I was pulling fur out of Zach’s mouth and saying, “I told you not to bite the dog” at the same time.

You also can’t be angry when telling your kid to stop wiping boogers on his bed, or to stop poking his sister with a crayon. Maybe, if I had time to think about what I was going to say before it needed to be said, I could get the anger across to them in a better way, by using different words. Somehow, though, I’m not so sure of that. There really isn’t a better way to say, “Stop shaking your butt out the window” or “Quit giving your brother a wedgie.” If there is, I don’t know it. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that phrases like this will continue to be uttered by me for the duration of my children’s childhoods, and probably into their adulthoods. I hope not, though, for their sakes. I’d hate to be at Ty’s wedding reception telling Zach to “stop giving all the guests wet willies.” It would be pretty funny, though. I know I’d laugh.

Until next time…peace to all.