My husband left me.
For a man.
Well okay, he left for a job and he’s staying with a friend, but it makes for a much more dramatic impact when I say he left me for a man. The truth of the matter is he was home for three weeks and it was time for him to get back to work. Before I killed him.
Not that I don’t love the man dearly, but ever since he started working out of town almost four years ago, I’ve become accustomed to being the top dog of the parental duo. With him home, it throws everything out of balance, with the kids being the manipulative smart little banshees they are, as they try and play one parent against the other.
For the most part, Boo and I transition after a day or two and revert back to the dynamic parenting duo we once were before he left the home for bigger paychecks, a second apartment and all the free time with small town strippers (me, not him) a person can handle.
But there are moments; moments when I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut and just support him like the parenting manuals all dictate good united parents should do; when I want to kill. Kill him and set my children loose in the wild.
One might say I parent a little differently than my children’s father does. I insist I do this out of survival. The man leaves me alone with his offspring and expects to come back home to see them happy, healthy and well adjusted. He has entrusted me with this task because he is bat shit crazy. However, while he’s busy earning the dough that pays for our bread and butter, he misses out on all the joyous moments of raising a handicapped boy who likes to dump the dog’s water dish on the floor or unplug his sibling’s gaming unit (generally during a particularly important moment in the game my children like to whine) as well as missing out on all the glorious gory moments of rearing two teens into adult hood.
He can’t understand why I insist he bring home liquor every time he walks in the door.
He has yet to learn it’s because I can’t drown my single parenting sorrows while he’s gone but I damn well can fuzz things up while he’s home.
Not that I’m a liquor hound. Really. The empty boxes of wine in the pantry prove NOTHING.
*Editor’s note for child welfare workers who may be reading this: it’s called artistic license not an admission of guilt.*
My husband has this misguided notion that I’m in charge in his absence. What he doesn’t realize is while yes, I am the one twirling my pom poms at the front of our very own freak parade, I only pretend to be in charge. It’s a charade. I know it. My children suspect it. My husband refuses to know it. Something about me being the grown adult around here.
My life with out Boo for back up consists of arguing siblings, slammed doors, heads filled with eye rolling and mouths that like to sass back. I counter balance this with empty threats, phone calls to their father and locking them outside while I point and laugh from the other side of the window.
It’s called survival of the fittest. Ask Darwin, he’ll explain it.
For the most part, my kids are good kids. (Even if I did go on national television and call them demons.) They are respectful, they keep up with their studies without me prodding them and they bring home straight A’s every report card. They are fairly self sufficient in fact, ever since I taught them that one can survive on bologna, boxed macaroni and a jug of milk. It’s like they don’t even need parents half the time since they are such responsible little cretins children.
But every now and then the hormones rear their ugly little heads and my children disappear only to be reincarnated as, well, demons. My husband doesn’t get this. And it makes for a bumpy road when he’s along for the ride.
Which gives me a head ache. (And not just from the cheap wine I guzzled when he wasn’t looking.)*
*That’d be artistic license again, dear social workers.
My husband’s solution for the banshee screaming siblings is to punish them with slave labour for every misdeed they do. My solution for the screaming festival my children occasionally like to partake in is to separate, sort, and then hug it out. Which is not always successful now that my kids are getting older and more stubborn as they age. They want to be right damn it, they don’t want to see the other side of the coin.
Slave labour tends to be the quickest and quietest resolution while he’s home but then he LEAVES. And I’m once again saddled with the single parenting yoke and two teens and a little boy who all prey on my sanity like the hunter hunts a moose.
There is one other looming factor that makes my life miserable once my husband takes off for greener childless pastures. (Well, two looming factors but that’s why God invented sex toys.)
I don’t know if it’s because my children don’t see my husband every day or listen to him harp on them continuously like I seem to, but he is much more effective at intimidating them into good behaviour. I can say the exact same words, in the exact same tone, and dole out the exact same punishment and the impact is almost neglible as to when my husband does it.
Is it his size? The deep husky voice of his? It can’t be his whiskers, cuz damn yo, I’m growing a few of my own. All I know, is that for two days after his father leaves it is like a free for all and I’m running for cover while the inmates run the aslyum. Every damn time.
So my husband is the hard ass while he’s home and I hand over the role of Bad Cop to him while donning the goofy good cop badge, knowing that once he leaves I’ll have to slap the Bad Cop hat on and pray my children take me seriously. While hoping I can keep a straight face and not get distracted by clever wise cracks. Which I may or may not have a habit of doing. I admit nothing.
Last night after kisses were kissed, hugs were hugged and we all stood on the deck waving good bye to Boo as his tail lights disappeared down our driveway, my children started up with one another, AGAIN.
I, being the weary down trodden mother I am, threatened, cajolled and bartered. I enlisted every parenting technique I knew to whip my kids back into performing monkeys shape but it was hopeless. I ended up losing it and yelling at the older two kids while Jumby took cover under the pillows on the floor.
I hate yelling. It’s ineffective and stupid. It’s sinking to their level and what am I demonstrating to them when I yell at them to be quiet when they are yelling? But it’s like Fric and Frac just kept jumping on my one last frazzled nerve until I snapped and morphed into a rabid screaming badger.
Which ultimately, while bring a nano second of stunned silence, solved nothing. And the kids resumed bickering as though I wasn’t even in the room.
Hi, my name is Tanis and I ran out of parenting tools last night. Heck I even considered beating them but since they are just shy of seeing me nose to nose and both children are fitter than I am, I figured if I did that I was just asking for my own ass to be kicked.
In the end, after a Mommy Time Out to revert back to the adult I’m supposed to be, I dished out punishment like a grandma dishes out icecream. Essays were assigned, television privileges revoked and threats of making them pay me a monetary fine for every eye roll and sassy remark made was promised.
But as I was parenting, I was overcome with an out of body sensation. I realized, mid-sentence as I was shaking my finger and pasting the “I’m so disappointed in you” look on my face, my children just looked at me like I had horns sprouting out of my head and they offered to call their father for me.
So I could ‘calm down.’
It was right then I seriously considered jumping in my vehicle, chasing my husband down and sending him home so I could take his place in the work field. Because I’ve obviously lost my damn mind thinking I can survive parenting and actually produce well adjusted productive members of the next generation.
Seems to me the only thing I’m producing is the hot air I keep blowing at them lately.
My palms are blistered and raw from trying to keep the reigns of parental control firmly in hand.
If only my kids could be as good as I was growing up. My mom doesn’t know how lucky she had it with us.
Heh.
So. Got any suggestions? Parental tips? Humorous anecdotes which impart a glimmer of wisdom? Horror stories you’d care to share? Effective discipline tools for teens that won’t land my ass in the clink? I’m outnumbered here. It’s two against one, with the littlest dude cheering on his siblings. Little traitor.
Help a mother out would ya?
Tuesday, 1 December, 2009 at 10:39
idle threat, damn typos. =p
Tuesday, 1 December, 2009 at 10:46
Tanis, I feel your pain. I have 7 of them (yes, I was sober)and outnumbered doesn’t describe it anymore. The 4th one is has cerebral palsy, 3 have AD/HD, and 3 have Autism Spectrum Disorders. (Yeah, we mixed the genes great.) I have noticed over the years that it is far more effective to take away something that is actually IN their hands than to threaten a future reward. In other words, if Fric and Frac generally get $7 a week in allowance, and money is a big thing to them, then they start getting $1 a day. In dimes. Everytime they smart off, or misbehave, they lose one. When they see their money going away, they take back nasty talk pretty quick, let me tell you. For another kid, we figured out that he had about 3 hours a night of TV time. So we gave him 15 min TV coupons. When he noticed that he had only 15 minutes to watch TV/play videogames, he decided he’d better get it together. Now, he’s relatively civilized. If it’s the mountains of clothing and crap on their floor, ya bag it up. Lock it in the basement, and if they keep their rooms tidy for one week, they get one bag back. You pick the bag. Worked for my darling daughter. Also, it helps to look at baby pictures and mutter under your breath, “Grandchildren are the reward for not strangling your teenagers” with a fair degree of repetition.
Tuesday, 1 December, 2009 at 10:47
I wish I had tips for you but as your life and my life are twins, I look to you for advise. What is a mom to do. My hubby just left yesterday for those “greener childless pastures up north” too and what a shock, the little buggers put on thier devil horns two seconds later! I feel your pain.
Tuesday, 1 December, 2009 at 10:51
Wish I could be more helpful but all I can offer is a cure all to take the edge off. So, cheers girl! I’m all for fuzzing things up a little. Nothing like being comfortably numb to get through the day
Tuesday, 1 December, 2009 at 11:50
Boy, do I remember that crap! My older boys are 16 and 17 now and when they were the ages yours are I wanted to strangle them on an almost daily basis. I finally had a flash of inspiration and told them that since what I was doing wasn’t helping them get along, from now on they could pick each others punishment when they got on my last nerve. The looks on their faces when they realized just how BAD that could get was priceless. From then on when one of them started with the other he would just say “you don’t even wanna GUESS what I’m gonna get Mom to make you do!” and it would just stop before it got started.
AZ Colleen Reply:
December 1st, 2009 at 12:51 pm
@Neen, That’s awesome!!!
PS, I *think* I might be de-lurking here… Reading for a while, think I might have a girl crush.
Sadly, no advice but I vote for Neen’s idea!
Tuesday, 1 December, 2009 at 15:27
All 5 of us kids were scared of the Wrath of Mom. One glare and we were all frightened into submission.
Also if she was mad at one of us she would punish ALL of us. Earning the offender the wrath of all the siblings as well.
She is now 74 and has told us she doesn’t understand why any of us love her when she was such a bitch of a mother. At least we all knew where we stood with her and when she came out of the raving badger stage we all knew she loved us.
My dad was so not the disciplinarian. He was a very gentle man and used quiet disappointment in us as punishment. Worked every time.
My sister also took my nephew’s door off the hinges a few times, worked like a charm.
If alcohol fails you – there is always chocolate.
Um, I was the quiet, unassuming teenager, not prone to hissy fits of any kind. My older sisters were the queens of drama, I was just being the black sheep . . . I didn’t have kids, but would have been a crappy mother, no really, I would have been. But I was a great aunt and friend to small humans.
Tuesday, 1 December, 2009 at 16:01
Geez, did you just write my biography? Not as a parent but as a teenage boy? I recall those years vividly. Those memories prompted me to vow to never have children, a vow that I have carried out for over fifty years. I said to myself I will never let a prepubescent “demon” put my wife through the hell I caused. Just to back it up I didn’t even get married till, what, mid forties. If I could look deep inside of myself and impart any constructive help, other than a tazer gun, well, I would. But I don’t have the answers. At least you have good students. They have a chance of coming through this un-demented.
But will you?
Tuesday, 1 December, 2009 at 16:51
I think you just added a hash mark in the “maybe I shouldn’t have kids” column on my spreadsheet.
Tuesday, 1 December, 2009 at 17:34
Well…not too much in the advice dept. I have been raising kids for what feels like FOREVER and the only thing working for me is Duct Tape and Dimetapp. Just kidding (sorta)
Tuesday, 1 December, 2009 at 20:06
a couple weeks ago, my seven year old came home with an incident report from daycare. since he was also having some issues at school, i hoped to nip it in the bud. I told him that the next incident report he gets, he will have ALL his toys taken away, like a friend of mine did with her son. the very next day, he gets another incident report for fighting on the school bus. so guess what? ALL his toys have now found a home at the goodwill. I kept his crafts, books, and boardgames, but everything else is gone. he’s been relatively okay for the last few weeks. becoming very creative with pipe cleaners (unfortunately, i’ve also realized he will probably become an engineer when he grows up). when he does get out of control, i just threaten to throw one of his things in the garbage. seems to be the only thing that works some days.
As for your comment on cbc re: wondering if no tv will have an affect on their behaviour … absolutley … i find as soon as my son watches one show of those awful, mind-dumbing family channel shows, his attitude stinks. it’s like he is trying to be a 15year old 8 years too soon. drives me crazy. i find he is much more respectful, and much less annoying when he doesn’t watch as much tv.
hope that helps. good luck with it all. :0)
Wednesday, 2 December, 2009 at 6:30
Scrubbing the toilet with a toothbrush worked on my boy. He’s 20, firefighter, living on his own. Guess it worked?
Wednesday, 2 December, 2009 at 8:32
I don’t have kids but I lived with my sis for almost 5 years on and off while she was raising her 4. I moved in when her oldest was a year and a half and basically stayed around (again, on and off) until she was about 7, then (thank god!!! ) I moved out and have yet to move back (masocism does not suit me…her not the kids…love those kiddos). Darling niece is now 10.
My sisters hubby was a welder and gone I would say a good 16-20 hours a day 6-7 days a week, so she was the main disciplinarian (she didn’t want to share the fun with auntie apparently).
Anyway, a few things I observed..always follow through. If you threaten to do something, even if after you say it you stop and think “hmmm, that’s kind of severe”..do it anyway! (unless it involves beating or branding or starvation or cutting the lawn with their teeth..umm you could probably leave the last one in actually…note, I AM childless..why are you listening to ME?)
So moving on…IF there is NO follow through, the little hormonal demons will realize that momma is all hot air..and it can be nice (and warming in this “occasionally” cold alberta climate) to feel her blow.
My darling niece didn’t wait for puberty..oh no..she hit it at age 5.
Since darling niece knew that daddy was the bad cop she figured that mommy would be a pushover…and then came the attitude and the rolling of the eyes and the “you can’t make me” and then the “1 million banshees of hell” screaming chorus line….and then best of all “you’re a bad mommy, I don’t love you”…at 5!!! TV these days I tell you!!
She would start with time outs, then no tv(Dora, I missed you), then no friends, then threatening to call daddy who would then tell daughter that she better behave or he would come home immediately..that one was great for a while!).
But then the apocalype happened and none of that worked…so a new punishment was devised.
Instant removal!!
Toys in large quantities, books, her pretty collectible dollies, her dollhouse. When her room was bare of all but a bed and the demonchild was still there..they then removed her door (she was getting rather good at her house shaking slams…oh and she was NOT happy when she could no longer slam it..so when told to go to her room, she would stand inside..just..and SCREAM!! that was fun)
Lastlly when all that remained was her bed…her entire bed was then removed.
She had a blanket on the floor and a pillow. When she was finally threatened with the pillow being removed…well the demon decided it may as well exorcise itself.
She had to earn it all of her belongings back with good behavior…and let me tell you…that took quite a while.
There were definite setbacks and removal was put back into play but entire room removal only happened a few more times.
And brief note, if you ever do something like this…make sure you have a large enough house that you can stuff their belonging into a spare room and lock it. The living room will not work, the basement with the family room in it also will not work and then you will be reduced to putting it all in your own bedroom..crawling over and
around toys just to get to your own bed and clothing…fun fun!
Darling Niece is now 10, fantastic with her 3 younger brothers and with helping the kids at her moms dayhome. She actually listens when you ask her do something. Of course there have been occasional glimpses at the inner demonchild but i think its in hiding…for now
Thank God for birth control.
Wednesday, 2 December, 2009 at 8:33
wow…just read my post..freakishly long…sorry! Apparently I’m just a little wordy this morning
Wednesday, 2 December, 2009 at 16:16
I’m impressed that you enjoy the single-parenting thing while you’re hubby is working. I hate it when my husband is away on business, because bad stuff ALWAYS happens when he’s gone…pneumonia, 3 feet of snow, hurricanes that flood the basement – I could go on. So, I’m sending some single-parenting sympathy your way!
Wednesday, 2 December, 2009 at 21:40
heh. I just send myself to my room. I have chocolate hidden in there.
Thursday, 3 December, 2009 at 8:05
My mom and dad made us do pointless labor (digging holes to fill them in). If we refused to do said labor? Our rooms became bare- none of this one item at a time business. We got a blanket and a pillow.
We did not refuse to dig a hole often….I remember one time they made us shovel the driveway in the MIDDLE OF A SNOWSTORM…so we had to do it three more times…ahh childhood
BTW, I am also de-lurking, and I totally have a girl-crush, I even wrote about you on my no-one-views-it-but-my-imaginary-friends blog…
Thursday, 3 December, 2009 at 11:20
Red neck mommy, my kindred spirit. I too have to stay home with the Littles who drive me insane while their daddy is out of state working. I too have to raise the roost, and keep everyone in check, while daddy is away. I also get crazy when he comes home and it takes a few hours for us to all get in sync with each other,and for the kids to realize that the behavior they portray with me while dad is away is not the same behavior they give to him. My latest tool in getting them to listen while he is away, (ages 6,5,and 4…..yes I was preg 3 years in a row) when the “I’m going to video tape this behavior and send it to daddy at work.” stopped working after they would behave as soon as I pressed the record button, little BLEEPITY BLEEPS, I started to tell them during a blatantly disrespecting mommy incident, “Guess what? daddy can hear you right now because we are on speaker phone!” They stopped the bad behavior quick, until the oldest, 6 year old going on 23, said. “daddy are you there?” Thank God my crack-berry has a voice recording devise where I promptly recorded a small daddy lecture to behave for me while he is away. I know it sounds deceitful but…IT’S WORKING!!
Friday, 4 December, 2009 at 22:59
Teens want privacy.. so take it away!
No doors on bedrooms… and if it gets worse take it off the bathroom too..
Take away electronics..
Dont worry Tanis, you’ll get through it!
Saturday, 5 December, 2009 at 18:12
Wow. My husband left for 12 days and I broke down after 7. Don’t know how you do it.
Monday, 7 December, 2009 at 17:17
Babes, I only have TWO, and I ran out of skillz about two years ago. (My youngest is turning two soon.) Hubby is home every night (though late) but he’s home, and STILL? Liquor is necessary – helps quell the yelling, me thinks. I know. I know. Oh lord, how I know. The fact that you’re alive at all to tell this tale give me strength that maybe, just MAYBE I can survive this thing. Of course, mine are under the age of six… heaven help me in 6 or 8 years. God bless you, woman. You’re an ace, T.
Tuesday, 8 December, 2009 at 12:53
Martial arts! My 12 yr old looks down on me now and may even out weigh me, there’s no question that she can take me down … unless of course I secretly started learning karate … hi-ya!
Thursday, 10 December, 2009 at 18:29
I have one teenager, and I reach the end of my rope more and more often lately. It is more of a silent standoff at our house where I feel the hate. (There was once love and kisses and hugs and all.)
Be consistent. Keep ‘em busy. Say it once and mean it (if at all possible, I mean if they will listen).
Mine won’t listen at all it seems. I resorted to chore charts and nagging, but I’m starting to enjoy when she is GONE!
I have summed it up this week:
You can’t talk to her.
and
You can’t NOT talk to her (and expect any parenting to occur.
Sheesh. I need some help. Oh yeah, single mom here — so dad is of no help.