Oh that title…the creativity is just oozing out of my pores. Truly.
Both my giant exterior babies are screaming their sweaty little heads off right now because 1. our AC units went out last night and 2. It’s bedtime. And, you know, they’ve never been put to bed before. I’m just straining my little ears for the sound of forced vomiting any moment now…
Anywho, today was a relatively unremarkable, smolderingly hot summer day here in Rome. It is odd to feel the emptiness of the city, already dwindling in the tourist category, now absent one Holy Father as of 10 am local time. It feels similar to the period from Benedict’s abdication to the beginning of the conclave…except obviously not sad. World Youth Day is a joyful reason for Rome to be sede vacante (well, in the physical sense), if you enjoy camping in fields, sweating your ass off and sleeping in the dirt. Or so I’ve heard. But it makes me so, so happy that Papa gets to go back to his continent and really say ‘goodbye’ to his part of the world. Isn’t God good, for this to all have been planned and scheduled before a Latin American Pope was even a twinkle in anybody’s eye? Yeah.
I’m eating pre-popped popcorn and apples with peanut butter for dinner. My kitchen is incendiary and will immediately combust if I flick the gas to the stove on. It’s that hot. Therefore, no cooking for days…and days. I did briefly and stupidly heat water for a piping mug of Earl Grey to round out my preggie palate, because nothing says summer evening like hot tea.
I’m so sorry, this is just awful. Let’s see, weather, meal planning…what else can I bore you with? Oh, I know, how about more behavior issues with my children. Perfect.
We’re experimenting with a week of ‘no spanking’ with the boys, particularly Joey, and if you are horrified by the thought of corporal punishment, just go ahead and click non-judgementally away right now.
Okay, who’s still with me? So confession time: I’m a spanker. Not very hard, and not all the time, but sometimes it feels impossible to communicate with boys any other way…except lately, even that line is cluttered with static. Now JP is kind of little to be spanked, per se, but we do smack his hand if he does something unsafe, like stick various metal items into temptingly-shaped European electrical sockets. And his world grows dark and dim and he collapses into a sorrowful heap of remorse and anguish. It is so sad that I can very rarely follow through on it.
Joey, on the other hand, generally laughs in my face if I raise a hand to his diapered booty. And sometimes he spanks me back when my guard is down, which is 100 kinds of special. So in addition to feeling like crap for spanking my kid, I am also increasingly aware that for this special model of almost-3-year-old, it isn’t working.
Yelling doesn’t actually work either. Or time outs. Loss of privileges are sort of effective 60% of the time. And eating gelato in front of his face while repeatedly recounting his offenses and reminding him why he can’t partake is probably the most effective, but feels truly heinous once the novelty wears off. Plus, my hips. Cooling down from the inside out has consequences, y’all.
Anyway, feel free to consider this one part cry for help, one part confession, and one part trolling for discipline strategies. Whatcha got?
|horrifying photobooth session at Daddy’s (air conditioned) office this afternoon. Sweet dreams.|