OK, This is a Blog that needs a Disclaimer...

The sole purpose of this disclaimer is so I'll have something to hide behind when readers start throwing whatever happens to be ripe in their gardens this time of year because there are vast differences in philosopy between us.

Ehh ehh ehmmm...This blog writer does not wish to agitage readers knickers into any twists of any variation of twisty-twirls. She's perfectly happy with potential veggie throwing readers to have a salad for dinner tonight and instead think things like "She's an idiot" She's never done this before and has no idea what she's talking about" (that one would happen to be true) "Her kid is gonna end up being a nightmare, she'll be sorry", or any version thereof.

OK, now that the business part is out of the way we can get on with our story.

I thought school was over. I'd done my time. Gotten the formal education, which btw, when I was a little girl thought I had to be missing out on this "formal education" people kept talking about. We never had Opera class at school and in P.E. we never got to play the game with horses and people riding them hitting something with stick. (Yes Mom, really).

But enough about my obvious opera lacking education. I'ts NOT over. I'm nervous.

Last night, Jude and I were practicing our award winning tower building skills on the floor of his nursery. I was cool, he was cool, we we're workin' together. A real team effort.

That's when I got whacked in the forehead with a block.

Utter shock and disbelief! He hit me? He HIT ME!!! Then while I was absorbed in my own post traumatic stress syndrome brought about by my recently whacked-head victimhood, he did it AGAIN!!

Those voices that keep me company in my head, they came to my rescue, since I was sitting there completely paralyzed.

The next 4.8 seconds in my head went pretty much like this:



"HE hit me he hit me he hit me he hit me! I can't believe he hit me!"

"Get a grip, we don't have much time here. This is one of those things we have to do something about."

"OK OK, what do we do?"

"Not, sure. Let's run through our options. Option 1 would be..."

"The whole smack his hand thing"

"OK...NOooo! I can't EVEN believe you brought that one up. Hitting is barbaric. Besides, teach him not to hit by hitting him when he hits you? Yeah, that's a brilliant move.

"Yeah you're right, OK OK. Ummm...oh I know! Time out!!"

"Love withdrawl, Shorterm manipulation, psychologically damaging... nu uh. C'mon c'mon! We practiced this over and over in here. Remember how we went over it? Think. What's the big picture? You memorized it"

"Oh right...ummm...oh I remember! I'm Here to Help Him Become a Person Who Has Empathy and Love for His Fellow Human and Learns That There are Things We Don't do Not Because We Will Get In Trouble, but Because We Genuinely Care.....that's it!!

"Right, and dont forget the consequences for his actions part, blah blah. OK, so how do you feel right now after he hit you?"

"It HURT! And my feelings are hurt and I don't feel like playing with him anymore"

"Maybe we should tell him that. But...don't be all mean about it"

"OK already!"



So, I told him that my feelings got hurt when I got hit and I didn't really feel like playing anymore. Picked up my half of the blocks and told him that I was gonna go watch tv in my room. Was that the right thing to do? No idea. The fear though, it was almost like an anxiety attack figuring out some way to let him know that WE DON'T HIT...without saying " No, no! we don't hit". It was worse than any college final I've ever had. And the having to make a descision in just a few seconds? Ugh!

Who knows what impression he picked up...if any at all. Or if my reaction even meant anything. All I know is that I can't spank or smack his hands or hit him. I have some pretty strong feelings about that. And the whole "spare the rod, spoil the child? All I can say is Analogy, People, Analogy, not literal. Besides, MY God would never advocate an adult hitting a child in any form or manner. Dunno 'bout some other people's God. And yelling "No" is pointless. By my calculations the take rate on "No" is about 2 in 15. One when he's bored playing the "Look at Mommy! I can make her say "no" over and over when I do stuff!" game. The second being when he's only halfheartedly doing what he's about to do anyway and thinks, "eh..OK, I won't do it." I figure its a waste. And time-out? I can't quite put my finger on it but I get this vague, uneasy feeling about time-out. Like I'll be 80 in line at the grocery store someday, glance over and see that week's cover of TIME magazine with the headline "Time-Out and the Thirty-Something Drug Epidemic. How Could We Have Known?" With the inside article all about how to get help if you were a victim of time-out.

Of course. I'm exaggerating. Although, who knew we shouldn't use lead paint on baby cribs thirty years ago? I think these are some things that we should know better about by now as a society. Then again, I also think there should be no wars, so I realize I'm expecting too much. Maybe, Jude's generation won't be as inclined to wage war when differences in opinion arise. Well, that is if we can instill some love for each other in them.


So, I don't know, I'm new at all this mommy stuff, cut me some slack...think what you want. We'll see over the years how well I do mommyhood, right? If we keep the Chronicle alive you'll get to be my judge and jury.

Are you going Paul Harvey on me now? Wanting to know "the rest of the story"? OK.

Well, I went to my room and sat in the rocker and watched tv, exactly like I told him I was going to. It actually took about 5 minutes before I saw a sheepish little boy come slowly around the corner, walking to me with his arms held open wide to hug me before going off to play again.

Soooo...when does this hitting thing go away?????!