Lego Wars

Never having been organized as a child and because the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree I figured that my children would be at a genetic disadvantage when it came to keeping their rooms clean. Just over two decades later there I stood in the doorway to my own daughter’s room surveying the half naked Barbie dolls, scribbled on piles of paper, scattered puzzle pieces and books strewn across the floor. There sitting in the midst of the chaos on her room floor was my little apple. 

A bit frustrated and wanting my child to be more organized than her mother, I walked in to ask her to at least pick up a few things. The moment my bare feet hit her room floor they were assaulted by legos. Any one who has ever stepped on a lego's well armed, sharp, hard, plastic corners knows the pain these toys are capable of inflicting upon soft soles. 

The red lego lodged between my toes created what I call a “mind modifying moment”.  A moment in life when something happens that makes it extraordinarily clear what must be done and why.  In this case, a clear path to my daughter’s bed instead of a mine field of vengeful legos and Barbie feet was the must!  Why?  Because it was a fire hazard, heaven forbid there be an emergency in the middle of the night!

Motivated by images of my still smoking, charred body being discovered with multi colored, militant legos melted into my feet, I wrangled the wayward lego loose, then tiptoed through the few empty spaces on the floor to my daughters bed and sat down. I patted the bed, inviting her to come sit beside me to have a mother, daughter chat, not a lecture, a chat about the mess. I knew my precocious 4 year old could reason and negotiate (ask me about the dessert debates later). After explaining my concern for getting in and out of her room unscathed and showing her my battle wounded foot, we agreed to maintain a clear path. Other than that path, how she kept her room was her choice. 

Here’s Rule #5 for your little apples! You are their mom, not their maid and therefore not responsible for cleaning up after anyone who is capable of cleaning up after themselves. You job is to ask, remind, insist and inspire them to clean. Until your children pay rent (at your house or theirs), final say on the cleanliness of the house, including their rooms, is yours and there must, at the very least, be an emergency exit path cleared daily by them. Your feet will thank you.

This is not a Democracy!

When I first heard the term anarchy as a parent I thought it was synonymous with chaos. As I understand it, it just means that there is no designated leader, which doesn't necessarily mean chaos unless you're a parent! So that leaves, democracy and my favorite monarchy. I figure since princes are few and far between, the only way I'm going to get to fulfill my dream of becoming a queen is to establish my own kingdom to rule. Enter my children...

I am of the opinion that parents get to decide their style of  "governing" their family. What we choose is quite personal and can cause the gauntlet to be thrown down when mom and dad have diametrically opposing views on which style works best. Since this blog is "The Mother's Rule Book" I'll limit my suggestions to those of the maternal persuasion. Let the dads write their own book! As the reigning ruler in my kingdom I get to make the rules and so do you .  But I'm a reasonable queen. I won't be shouting "Off with their heads!". Not after 9 months of pregnancy, 24 hours of  labor and no anesthesia. I will hear suggestions for amendments at the proper place and time, which they learn quickly is not after I've said "No!"

After all, acts of congress take time. Since we are responsible for our little darlings, as in we pay or go to jail if they really screw up and since experience has taught us quite a bit about what's best for them. As in looking both ways before crossing the street, we get to make the rules. And if they don't believe you, it's as always right here in black and white, rule #3.

Because I said so...

I swore when I was a child that when I grew up I'd never tell my kids “Because I said so!” when they asked me why they had to do something. Good thing I didn't put that in writing or my children would be suing me for breach of contract. Kids invariably will ask why when we tell them to do something (or why not when we tell them not to, that must be in their rulebook.) Unfortunately for us, the "why?" is  usually in that annoying whiny voice implying “I don't wanna.” or in that independence asserting voice, yep you know the one. It makes the hairs on your neck bristle because it means that the answer you give will be used as ammunition against you in the ensuing battle. And the why war was on! After all I wanted to be the mother that encouraged her child's curiosity and self expression...hah

I lost count of how many times I said it and of how many times I fought the why war and lost. Finally one day, suffering from battle fatigue my response to why was “I don't know, but as soon as I do, you'll be the first to know!” It wasn't defensive, it was just honest and they knew it. No they didn't tie their tidy whiteys to a stick and surrender. Let's just say it opened the door to negotiations. The rule is this, you do not have to explain why you want them to do something at least not until after they've complied. There just isn't enough time nor energy. Sometimes we really don't know why and that doesn't mean they get to run amok. Just tell them that it's in the Mother's Rule Book , rule #2.

The Rule Book

When desperately asking a friend and fellow mom about what I should do with my preteen daughter's constant questioning of why she had to do whatever I told her to do, she quipped "Just tell her it's in The Mother's Rule Book. Follow it with a random page number and paragraph or line. The end." That was just the beginning and there is no end. There is, however, change.

Now that my daughters are grown and I have just become a grandmother for the first time, I figured the new mommy could use this mysterious guide to child-rearing. Only wouldn't you know it, I can't find my copy anywhere. Okay honestly, I never had a hard copy. In fact, my eldest brought to my attention a few years after I began spouting passages from it, that the paragraph and page number I was quoting was different than the last time she had asked about the same thing. Whoops! Who knew she had such a gift for remembering numbers? That inspired me to make it official and give other mothers this invaluable resource, especially my daughter as she embarks on her new journey of motherhood. I won't promise that they will be in numerical order or any order for that matter, but each one will have a reference number for quotation purposes.

Disclaimer: Reference numbers may change as needed. Highlight this and show it to your kids, just in case they are number savants.

Rule #1 Breathe!

a. Whether laboring during delivery or over dinner.

b. Whether crying tears of sadness or joy.

c. Whether running after your kids or out of toilet paper.

When laughing so hard you pee your pants and definitely when fear grips your heart and won't let go, breathing makes it better. It is the antidote to anxiety, our very own easy button. You have the right to take the time to stop and breathe a few deep inhales and relaxing exhales. By the way, sighs and yawns count too. Remember, they are watching. If you're consciously taking a moment to relax, regroup and breathe, they will learn to do the same.