NO SCHMUCKS!

Experienced something new this week. Grounding. Not a new concept to me, but this time around I’m the parent.

It’s weird on this end.

As I recall from my childhood, my mother liked grounding kids. She greatly enjoyed watching our eyes swell with tears as our guilty little lips quivered after being caught doing something that could be chalked up as childhood curiosity, but was still wrong. Seeing our little shoulders slump as we stared at the ground and listened to our simple world of playing with friends and watching tv before bed be shattered before us. And once we were crying, I’m sure she felt a true sense of happiness and fulfillment.

That’s what I got from this process as a kid. That and the fact that she was always over reacting and I never did anything wrong.

Then I had kids. And my oldest, at age 6, did something that was naughtier than what a simple time out could fix. I’ll spare the details (he could Google this at some point and not want his mother sharing his childhood follies in complete details). I had to ground him. Half an hour earlier bedtime and no DS for 4 days. Sounded great in theory. It was hard to say it to him. Then after he went to bed in tears, I sat there fighting back tears. I felt like the meanest, most unfair, horrible mother ever. I took away 30 minutes of his play time. His play time WITH ME. And he doesn’t play the DS often, but it’s the one thing in life he loves to play with more than anything…

Mothers do not like grounding. They might hate it more than the kids. I am not happy or fulfilled. I am sad and full of guilt. I’m not up at night playing his games and laughing at his fate. I’m praying all night that he can just be perfect during this time so I don’t have to extend this. I think that might kill me. I honestly think that grounding my kid is the hardest thing I’ve done since giving birth to him.

All I really want to do is go tell him nevermind and give him a new game as a peace offering for how mean I am. But I know, that’s not what he needs. He’s got friends. He needs his mother to guide him and lead him, even when the path is hard for us both. I repeat this mantra in my head: “I will not raise a schmuck, I will not raise a schmuck…” and it’s gotten us through. I just hope someday he’ll see that punishing him is my least favorite thing of all with being a parent.

Stand strong Mommas. Be firm but love your kids. We can all do this and raise nice boys. The kind of boys we want our daughters marrying.

And I’m sorry Mom, you’re not evil and I’m guessing the same feelings and thoughts went through your head too. Thanks though, I got the message and I’m glad I’m not a schmuck.