It has been an interesting week for all of us. This week marks the end of the first semester in the local public schools. The kids got off early Wednesday and were out of school Thursday and Friday. They don't go Monday, either, as it is a federal holiday. Superman and I are both off Monday, too. But we were at work and school Thursday and Friday, and Twitch wasn't here Friday because he went with his scout troop on a snowboarding adventure. That left the Demonic Duo here alone.
Danger-Will-Robinson!
But they did pretty well Thursday and Friday because they were "corrected" on Wednesday.
Wednesday was a bad day. You will recall that on Tuesday I got home and Diva had gotten herself into a
sticky situation. Sproing was seeing his therapist at the time, which kept him from being complicit in the crimes. Wednesday, however, they were both here for three hours unsupervised. When I got home from school the house was a mess (more so than usual) and the kids were screaming at each other. They scream the nastiest things to each other, and it breaks my mother-heart. They had to tell me all about the horrid things the other did to him/her. It was like walking into a blasting zone. They hit me full force as soon as I walked through the door.
I've learned to remain calm (at least on the outside) as I gather the information. It percolates through the
brain grinds as I decide how to handle things. Sometimes I cry a little on the inside. Like when I got back to my bedroom at the end of the hall. As I set down my book bag to unlock the door* I saw the door and doorjamb had been violated. I called the two kids to me and showed them the door. Another thing I've learned: try not to ask "who" or "why" because there are no good answers to these questions in a situation like that. I said something like "what can you tell me about this?" Sproing spouted off that it was Diva's fault (it always is when he's telling the tale). She got a screw driver and jimmied the lock, let the kitten out of our room, took a CD Spanish course off our shelf and put it in the DVD player, I think.
Then she gave the kitten a bath. I know. WTF. She told me that Scher just stood in the bath and took it like a man, or something. Didn't like it much, but didn't fight. That's my understanding, anyway. It was pretty cold Wednesday and we keep our house on the cool side. The cat shouldn't have been wet. By the time I got home she was dry, though. A bit traumatized, but dry. She was also traumatized by the children fighting over her. I'm not sure if they actually pulled her in two directions, but I know they were grabbing at her while she was in the other's arms. She was subsequently swung around as the kid holding her removed her from the other's reach. That is precisely why I locked her in our bedroom, where she has food, water, and her litter box.
Oh, and they also threatened each other with knives. Yes, our kitchen knives. The cheese knife (which thankfully isn't too sharp) was on the floor beside Sproing's room. Diva said Sproing brought a knife into the laundry room where she was (hiding? who knows) and flashed it all around while threatening her. He says she told him she'd cut him, or something. It's the theatre of the absurd.
On Tuesday we had a discussion with Diva about everything but the sex. That conversation is waiting in the wings, I just haven't had a chance to share it with her. But we discussed the other infractions. And Superman password protected his log-in on the laptop. It was the only internet access point in the house that wasn't password protected.
Diva is banned from all computer use in the home for a while. She's grounded until next Wednesday. I don't remember exactly what else we discussed Tuesday, because Wednesday was a whole new show.
Wednesday all hell broke loose. "Just wait 'til your Daddy gets home!!" I don't say that, actually, but it's usually when Daddy gets home that the real consequences occur. They got a long lecture (my speciality) then a spanking. We don't spank very often anymore. They should be getting too old for that, though their behavior suggests otherwise. We are both very specific about how and why to spank. There is a huge difference between beating and spanking in both attitude and technique. With a spanking, contact only occurs on the large fleshy area of the buttocks and/or the upper thigh. Spanking is only administered when the administrator has calmed down and is not boiling mad at the spankee.
Pertinent aside: My dear friend
Indigo has visited us here in our humble abode. Indigo is an abuse survivor. He was subjected to some truly heinous treatment at the hands of people who were supposed to love and protect him. He is permanently scarred from those experiences, both physically and emotionally. He has some strong opinions about corporal punishment, as one might expect. He has always believed that spanking is wrong, until he met Sproing. After spending a week in this house with Sproing and Diva he has altered his opinion about spanking. He still has strong opinions about it and how spanking is applied, but he no longer dismisses it out of hand.
So Diva and Sproing both got spanked. And afterward they were so nice! They are both under suspension until next week, with no computer time, no broadcast TV. (They can watch movies. I have limits as to how much their punishment punishes me.) All the toys have been taken from their rooms and must be earned back. They can't leave the yard, though going outside is encouraged, especially now that it isn't as cold.
On Thursday, here by themselves (Twitch was here, but mostly avoided them. I don't blame him.) they were wonderful. They played cheerfully with each other and worked to good effect. Sproing cleaned the living room and swept the kitchen floor. Diva cleaned the rest of the kitchen and began folding the huge mound of clothes in the laundry room. On Friday she continued with the clothes and got a lot of them folded and put away.
This weekend Sproing has been a little turd. He is a small brown mobile brier patch. He is mouthy, insulting, annoying, etc. The benefits of that spanking lasted about 2 days.
After the good work they did around here on Thursday they each got to go out with a parent for a treat. Oh, and Diva had her appointment with her therapist. As much as these kids need a firm hand and consistent discipline, they need rewards and overt expressions of love and approval. I have been trying to be as loving as possible. I took Sproing out for his reward on Thursday, and Diva and I went out together yesterday. One on one time with a parent is what they most like.
It is so hard to express love to a brier patch. I try and he sticks me (on purpose). Occasionally he'll come up and give me a hug or snuggle up to me, but often as not he'll ignore me, sass me, yell at me, or argue with me as I attempt to help him. There are times I would like to just bitch-slap him, but I don't. Most of the time. There have been rare occasions when I didn't quite stop myself in time, but I don't agonize over it. I mean, really, he begs for it. And I hardly ever lose control of myself.
And so it goes. This is my life. I do the best I can.
I am taking a Developmental Psychology class. So far we have touched briefly on a few theories of child development, in which things generally go like this: if a child receives the love and nurture and stimulation he needs during these early stages of development, then he will develop these healthy attributes and be a fine and functional individual. Well, that logically implies that if he isn't raised right he'll be messed up. Therefore, if he's messed up, it's the parents' fault. I agonzied over this for a few days. But here's how I've decided to understand my life and my kids: if a normal child receives love and yada yada, then he will be healthy. But if the kid has chemical, physiological, genetic traits that manifest as unhealthy behavior, it isn't entirely my fault if he's fucked up. And really, I do the best I can. I do better than many could under these conditions. There are areas of our lives that could and perhaps should be better. If I were more organized and self disciplined and would keep to a routine better, that would probably have a positive effect on my children. But you know? I just don't. So sue me. Or come and live in my house with my family for a few weeks while I go on a trans-Atlantic cruise and tour the British Isles.
And that's what I think.
*Yes, I have to lock my bedroom door when I leave. I hate that I have to, but experience has taught me that I must. Obviously I left the door unlocked Tuesday when Diva got in and ... Well, you know the story.
The farm is primarily a goat dairy operation. They make products from the goat milk, too, like scented soaps. Indigo enjoyed petting these young billies.
Here he is with one of the milk goats. There were a few nanny goats in this stall along with three llamas!
Here is another interesting use for an old pair of boots.
And here is another shot of a regal peacock perched atop the hay bale. Note the little goat nibbling at the hay there on the right.
Here is Indigo (Willow) enjoying the swings.
And here is Light having a lovely swing. She has a new very butch haircut.
