Tuesday, April 10, 2012

This hurts me way more than it hurts you......

Image from HERE

So, I had a bit of an internet Easter break.

I did a lot of gardening that left me sore and stiff....

Seriously, the sport of the elderly left me sore.

I have a long way to go before I can compete in the Tough Mudder challenge.
I will be competing, mainly because I agreed to it publicly with the gorgeous Writer from All Consuming, and secondly, my fitness is a bit of a joke, need I say more about the gardening...and public humiliation is always a great incentive to get fit.

Luckily for me it is the school holidays, so I have been spending most of my day in training for such intense sporting, by playing the part of referee between my children.

My children have taken to fighting... And when I say taken to, I mean that thy partake in some type of conflict with each other at least four times in any 1hr block.

Some days it drives me nuts.... Truthfully....I swing between the urge to curl up in a ball with a bottle of wine after standing over my children, fist pumping and chanting Jerry.. Jerry..Jerry..! Or getting in my car and driving anywhere but where they are.

They will fight about ANYTHING.......they will dob, they will fib, they throw things at each other... They say nasty things, they exclude each other, they bribe to get their own way and then they welch on it, they will not share, and they have recently been pinching themselves and blaming the other.

Most of the time, I Let them go, until I can't ignore it any longer, (usually when one of them comes out and dobs.. Thrusting the injustice right under my face so that I must do some thing) I will tell them (and myself) that they will just have to learn to deal with Jerks.... They are everywhere.
This is usually followed by one of them running into the others room to announce " Mum called you a Jerk" complete with smug and superior facial expression.

The ONLY punishment that really hits the little bastards where it hurts at the moment, is the banishment of play station related gaming.

This punishes me WAY more than it punishes them.

If I harness the power of game policing, I am the master of our house... It also means that I must prepare myself for the punishment.

This power comes at great cost to the parent, the game ban time, is a time I will be bombarded with 1000 I'm bored's, 1000 requests for exactly when the gaming can begin again.. In hours... Minutes...I must then calculate it in seconds..... Is it now?... Can we play the play station yet? How about now? When can we? Why can't we? What about now?

It is disgustingly easy to give in, however I have found that the trick is to keep them constantly busy.... This is exhausting, and I have taken to dishing out chores whenever I am asked when gaming can resume.
I just don't know how much longer I can keep this shit up....so!

I have decided to invent some elaborate team building exercise .... Something like building a cubby house or fucking billy cart or whatever I can think of, or more importantly, buy in Kit form at Mitre 10 for a reasonable price.

It is much better than my first idea, which was to send them camping in the backyard... Locking them out the and telling the that hey must get along and work together to survive.

I'm pretty sure that one is illegal... Or at the very least immoral, with the risk of physiological damage.

So team building in hardware form it is.... (If all else fails I will be donating all gaming consoles and similar to children that know how to get along... Dont for one second think that I wont) Wish me luck.
Do your kids fight this way?


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Miss Pink said...

Yeah! Get them to build a fort or some shit, that's an awesome idea!

My kids don't fight too much yet, but Greenie has a temper on him and I have to remind him constantly to use his words before screaming like a banshee.

River said...

Good luck. How long are the school holidays? In hours? Minutes? Seconds? Hmmm?
Put them outside with backpacks of food as much as possible. Supply a tent a sandpit, some spades and let them be Indiana Joneses.
Or something.