lines to use when you're crossing the line

i am so far from being the perfect parent. my default responses are to complain and blow up. when my kids most need a calm, controlled, routine-oriented adult is when, of course, it's hardest for me to deliver. many times, i fail miserably. despite my best non-swear word efforts, my 2-year-old is likely learning some of the real ones.

but then there are the times when i am able to pull it together in the moment – to not blow up at The No Factory in front of me, to not throw the fork across the room when i've just asked my children to refrain from the same thing, to not use a four-letter word when a goofy face would work so much better for everyone.

there are some key lines that others have passed on to me that raise the likelihood i'll find success in those moments:

"it's a season in life" my sister-in-law gave me this one. it's a powerful perspective-giver. i've found that even when the young one is kicking and crying, this line gives me the compassion i need to see her as my hurting toddler and not a mini-me out to get mom.

"i'm feeling very grateful today" this one comes from a blogging momma i admire over at Creative With Kids, who uses this now in response to the question of "how are you doing?" it gets rid of the first reaction (mine: "i'm going insane, thank you") by reminding yourself of the truth.

"get down on kid level" this is a good physical response to use that comes from a tip from A Mom With A Lesson Plan. sometimes i think back to a mad moment, and realize what i must have looked like to my child – a towering madwoman glaring down at her little girl. my daughter is not my enemy! but i sure am making her feel like it. i find that when i get down on the floor with my kids – even below their eye level, so they're the ones looking down at me – i gain better perspective on the situation. most times, things end in a hug when i do this. (and that makes me and them feel better!)

"good enough!" i gave myself this one. i'm a recovering workaholic perfectionist. and i'm slowly starting to really believe that "good enough" is "good enough" and not just another word for failure. perfection is not only impossible, it's downright damaging. if i say these words out loud, i'm telling myself to lower my standards – leave the dirty dishes in the sink (they've already been there 24 hours anyway) and sit down and read a book with the girls.

"i'm sorry" finally, this one comes from my Dad, who was always a great model of what to do when you do screw up. i get down to my kid's level or sit down with them, go over what happened ("i got really angry, didn't i?"), apologize and then share a hug. the fruits of this have already been shown when both my girls on different occasions have volunteered their own "i'm sorry" apologies without prompting.

maybe i'm not such a screw-up after all, right?

word of the month: magnanimous

my youngest is potty training. which means i'm working extra hard on my positive reinforcement skills. that is, if i ever get to use them.

let's just say, i'm having better luck with the 5-year-old.

Sweet One is a fan of Fancy Nancy, an endearing book character who has taught my daughter more than one fancy word (plume is now her primary term for feather). and Fancy Nancy is teaching me a trick or two as well.

we've reached the stage of sibling spats. the youngest is old enough to interfere with the oldest's sense of personal space. they both have, shall we say, confident personalities. when Sweet One does the mature thing (especially for a kindergartner) and shares a favorite toy with her sister when it's appropriate, i try to heap praise. it works. however, it works ever so much better with a fancy bit of praise.

"how magnanimous!"

fancy and grown-up, two things a cute li'l princess can't resist. i can see the effect. she stands up a bit straighter. she's thinking about the word, not knowing it but understanding it at the same time.

now. if i could find a similarly fancy magic bullet to get the Li'l Miss to sit her cute tushy on a potty seat...



background image of Scuffed Tiles is via Flickr. the Fancy Nancy text above is an affiliate link to the books on Amazon.

@#$!

i've been slacking in the word of the month category. so to make up for lost verbiage – and in honor of PMS WEEK here at silly = sane – i offer you my top 5 non-swears. i know "that time of the month" is near when my already frail internal check system starts to fail in the four-letter-word category. i've been turning to silly yet satisfying alternatives as a solution. and although you might not teach these to your kids, at least you won't mind them repeating them.

5 @#$! (ampersand-pound-dollar sign-EXCLAMATION POINT)
we all know what this means in comic strips. but have you ever read it out loud literally? LOL!

4crapadowndilly
you know, like daffadowndilly (which is a satisfying way of saying daffodil), but uh, not as cute.

3oh, for crying in the beer
because that would be sad. very, very sad.

2shiitake mushroom!
a loyal reader shared this one, and i've been using it ever since. it's the satisfaction of the about-face.

1Scheibenkleister! So ein Mist!
the German translation for this is "window putty." so said my German prof. (i am sorry to say, Herr Lamse, that it is pretty much all i remember.) some native German speakers confirmed that it's an old-fashioned way of not swearing and that it isn't used much anymore. ... except, of course, by stir-crazy mommas hell-bent on at least gaining verbal satisfaction in an otherwise angst-inducing day. (a rough pronunciation: shy-bun-cly-stuh! zoh eyn mist!)

in the time it takes to say some of these, i've either calmed down a bit or i'm outright laughing at myself.

what's your favorite non-swear?



art credit: "The Bureaucratic Screams from Hell"

word of the month: forgo

for·go   vt  \fȯr-ˈgō\
1 : to give up the enjoyment or advantage of : do without
2 : archaic : forsake
— for·go·er    noun

we're all selfish. until i had kids, i didn't realize just how selfish i was. but i do remember and appreciate the lessons in empathy and an expanded worldview that my own parents instilled in me from a young age (think: singing at the nursing home, putting quarters in the orange fish...).

those tangible expressions of giving are still vital. and in today's wired world, the lessons can take a unique twist. one of the fresh ways to give is a new app called Forgo. with Forgo, you choose to bypass an impending purchase – say, that McDonald's snack wrap or Redbox rental – and instead put the money you would have spent toward the latest Forgo project.

word of the month: excursion

we had a bit of luck with forlorn, due to its suitably dramatic character. but so far we've had the best kid-approved adoption of a new word with this month's selection, thanks once again to our summer bucket lists. one of our summer activity cups is labeled "excursions" and now my 5-year-old longingly eyes it, asking almost daily, "Mommy? can we go on a 'cursion today?"

word of the month: forlorn

background from schnitzgeli1

my drama queen needs this word. kids get tired and cranky (oh wait, parents do too). and it's easier to handle with a bit of gentle joshing. "oh, sweetie, are you forlorn?" only in print, it's more like, "ohhhhh, sweeeeetieeee, are you for-lorrrrrrrn?" with a look of concern that has that carefully balanced quality, equal parts sincerity and silliness.

forlorn.

for·lorn adj \fər-ˈlȯrn, fȯr-\ 

1 a: bereft, forsaken <left quite forlorn of hope>
   b: sad and lonely because of isolation or desertion : desolate <a forlorn landscape>

word of the month: splendiferous

we all know kids pick up on what we say. sometimes, we'd rather they didn't ("i'll get aggravated at you, mom"). other times, we feel that twinge of pride in our short-one's astute grasp of the English language when she correctly uses the word "mysterious" in a sentence (even if it did come out as "mysterio"). so here is a new monthly feature (ok, our first monthly feature) that focuses on building our kids' vocabulary with the finer if sillier words in life.

background from schnitzgeli1

splendiferous.
splen·dif·er·ous adj \splen-ˈdi-f(ə-)rəs\
: extraordinarily or showily impressive
— splen·dif·er·ous·ly adverb
— splen·dif·er·ous·ness noun
Origin:
splendor + -i- + -ferous
First Known Use: 1843

this is one of my favorite words, gleaned from a high school drama and English teacher. you could pull a Tinker Bell and preschool it up a bit by converting it to 'splendiferific!'

but don't bet on your savvy 4-year-old repeating it right away. like vegetables, good words have to be sneaked into a kid's diet.

splendiferous book tie-in: everybody's favorite fancy girl has a knack for fancy words (especially if they're French). haven't heard of Fancy Nancy yet? try the first in the series, Fancy Nancy (2005, HarperCollins).

fine print: this post contains Amazon affiliate links. learn more here.