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Posted Sep 21 2011 2:20am
I was a hypocrite today. A huge one. I've been anti-spanking ever since I was a kid because I still have physical and emotional scars from the abuse I endured as a child. I didn't believe in it and it pissed me off to see other kids get spanked. But then my baby turned into a toddler, hit the terrible two's, sprinted into the torturous three's and I've changed my tune a bit. I've always been afraid that if I spanked, I'd fall into the same patterns I grew up with and would end up beating my kids. Irrational? Maybe. Then today happened. I'm always harping on Franky to be more gentle to his sister and other kids who are younger than him. He went from having me always protect him from kids who picked on him to having to keep a close eye on him to make sure he wasn't picking on anyone else. Younger kids will try to roughhouse so he'll think it's okay but even if he's not hurting them, I don't like it. I don't want him to think playing like that is okay. 

Anyway, I'm sometimes told I'm not hard enough on my kid and other times told I'm too hard on him. Either way, I don't let him get by with much. I feel like the more things I let slide, the more he'll try to take advantage. Marija was crawling around on the floor and as he walked by, the kicked her in the face. I don't know if he walked up to her and did it or if he did it just walking by, but either way, I caught it and I could feel my blood boiling, steaming, curdling. I was so fucking mad. I was too pissed off to even yell at him. I hissed at him through clenched teeth, "YOU DO NOT FUCKING KICK YOUR SISTER!!! WHY DID YOU DO THAT? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!!" I flipped my lid to say the least. I flew over to them and before I could even process what was happening, I grabbed his arm, swatted him once on the butt and sent him to face the corner in the time out chair. I set the clock for 10 minutes. I was on fire. I consoled my crying baby girl and explained that what her brother did was not acceptable and that he wouldn't get away with it. 

He screamed, cried, carried on and basically threw a fit the whole 10 minutes. I usually only do two minutes (three now since he's turned three), but I was so mad I couldn't even look at him. When the timer beeped, I asked him to come over to us so he could apologize to his sister. As I walked over to him, he told me to shut up and kicked me. So he got another 10 minutes. I think his swat on the butt and 20 minutes in time out set off a light switch because he was near angelic for the rest of the day. 

I sat him down after it was all done and told him that I hated having to swat his butt, and I especially hated sending him to the corner. I told him that I punished him for being mean to his sister and finished it all off by telling him that I loved him more than he'd ever know. I thought I'd hate myself for it, but truthfully, swatting him on his butt is what I feel the least like shit about. I feel the worst for yelling at him, saying bad words and for sending him to the corner for so long.

Disciplining blows. I fucken hate it. I hate seeing him cry because I scolded him. But I know I'll hate myself even more if I let him get away with murder now and he's a tyrant as a teenager. Nope, I'll nip it in the bud matter how much it kills me.

I'm learning to be more outspoken as a parent. I let a lot of things slide in the past because I didn't want to deal with confrontation or have me speaking up affect my relationships with people, but I've reached a point in my life when it's gotten old keeping my mouth shut only to be left with the weight of whatever bothered me that I didn't speak up about. Kids literally pummeling Franky to the ground and me kind of brushing it off because of who the kid was and who their parents were, but fuming inside because those same parents flipped their lid over something Franky did later on that was harmless in comparison. 

I go back and forth between having the fever and feeling done at two. Days like today when I scolded Franky seemingly all freaking day long for not being more gentle and Marija was glued to my hip, I feel like I'm done at two and wondering how in the hell my mother did it with four of us? But then there are days when Franky is wonderful with his sister, is gentle, protective and watches out for her, when she is content to play along side him and I am able to get in a shower, coffee and laundry without so much as a tear from either of them and I think, I could so handle another baby. 

I have another month and a half left of mini pills and then I'm going off them around the same time I start weaning Marija, then Ry and I will do NFP (natural family planning) like we did after I weaned Franky. I've considered getting on another form of birth control, but the main reason I got on it after Franky and Marija were born was to prevent another pregnancy while I was nursing because I was selfish in not wanting to jeopardize nursing them for the first year. After Mimi is weaned, I want to give my body some time to breathe. I've been either pregnant or nursing for the last (almost) four years, with the exception of a five month period of time before I found out I was pregnant with Mimi. 

I know I want more babies. If I didn't, I wouldn't be worried about birth control methods. I'd long have had an appointment to have my tubes tied. When I really stop to think about being done at two, my ovaries seem to throw tantrums in protest. I love the newborn phase. The itty bitty newborn diapers, newborn clothes, the newborn smell. I love everything about newborns and I can't imagine never experiencing it again. 

I have serious homebirth envy of mommas who deliver at home, but I also know that the next time around, Mimi, Franky and Ry will be going home for the night so their baby sibling and I can rest up at the hospital. I loved every moment of having Franky at the hospital after I delivered Marija, but if I had it to do again, I would have stayed behind with Marija while Ry took Franky home for a bit of normalcy. I don't have any plan or intention of getting pregnant any time in the near future. Ry and I have much bigger fish to fry in terms of getting out of the mountainous hole we've dug ourselves into. But at the same time, whatever happens happens and we have no control over what God wants for our family. I guess only time will tell what He wants for our family.

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