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Friday, November 30, 2007

Irrational Bitch

I am pretty sure my daughter threw herself on her bed and that sobbed into her pillow, "My mom is an irrational bitch!" I am pretty sure that is what she did, because that is exactly what I told her to do before I banished her from my sight. It isn't everyday that a mother says to her daughter, "Go to your room and sob my mom is an irrational bitch into your pillow."

I am trying to switch up the discipline method a little bit. Maybe telling my daughter that names she should call her mom is a bad idea--but I was at the end of my rope and something drastic needed to be done.

It was a basic type of argument. I asked her to make a salad, she said, "I have to do homework!" and *POOF* she was gone. One hour later she came to ask me if she could play on the computer, I reminded her that I had asked her to make a salad an hour ago--and it was on.

And by on I mean she started crying. again. and whining. as usual. I started suggesting that she should shut up or leave my presence cause I have had it with the whining. And than I told her she could not play on the computer.

I don't need to relay all the finer details, if you are not the parent of a pre-teen, you were once a pre-teen and you understand the injustice of the parent child situation. Naturally my daughter began to question my sanity by saying, "But you never asked me to..."

and that is when I told her to go to her room and sob about her mother, the irrational bitch. As a discipline method, it probably didn't work very well. But, it did take her to her room and out of my space. Which is a good thing because as she gets older I find harder and harder to avoid corporal punishment.

I gave up spanking a few years ago and sometimes I think that was a bad idea. If I was still a spanker, I could just smack her til she shut-up, and some days I am thinking that would be a cathartic experience. For me.

I am flummoxed by this pre-teen that is living in my house, she has habits that drive me mad. I believe she spends a good portion of her time in the house without me doing things like hiding my favorite shoes, removing my favorite eyeshadow and drowning in my lotion and perfume. I know that she goes through my hair accessories, and if she is left alone for seconds with my purse she is sure to rape it of lip stick and mechanical pencils.

She is sort of like my little sisters with her constant raiding of my personal supplies. The difference between my little sisters and my daughter is that I could beat up my sisters when I found them dancing around in my clothing--and I can't beat up my daughter.

From what I gather, the pre-teen years are sweet compared to teen years, and the official teen years begin in March.

Please light a candle for me and say prayers.