PTSD – the parental version

It’s 8:37pm and the kids are now in bed. It’s been one of those kinds of evenings. You know, the kind where your highly skilled little button pusher(s) has been practicing, and perfecting, her art.

After the screaming and wailing for the previous hour – or more – is over, the silence is much more profound than it usually is at this time of night.

With a shaking hand, I pour a generous portion of Wiser’s over ice, with a less generous portion of Pepsi, filling the cup.

Headache, high blood pressure, the shakes, twitching, an overwhelming desire to burn the laundry pile… all classic symptoms of the parental version of  PTSD – Post Tantrum Stress Disorder.

Treatable with soothing beverages and an evening binge watching Netflix. Until the next episode of tantrums erupts.

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Playing to Win

Apparently there are people out there who let their kids win when playing games. This is why children grow up to be sore losers and horrible winners folks! This is also why winning no longer means anything, trying to do well is pointless, and just putting in an appearance gets you a little plastic trophy like all the other participants got.

Okay, so maybe I exaggerate just a teensy little bit.

However, I think that as parents, we need to take back our right to win at stuff and stop worrying about how our kids will feel if they aren’t numero uno all the time. I like winning. I don’t get to do it much. Sometimes, my kids are the only people I can actually win against, so yes, I’ll do my darndest to win.

And then every once in awhile, I’ll get my butt handed to me in a game of chess (I’m not that good at chess), or Connect 4, or UNO, or Yatzee, and my kids can be sure that it is a real win and feel a real sense of accomplishment, and they’ll tell everyone how they beat their mom at a game.

The one exception is Candyland. I’ll cheat like the dickens and let them win, just to make sure the game is over as quickly and painlessly as possible. I really hate Candyland.

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When I needed to go

So we’ve been having some issues with accidents, you know, the peeing kind, with my youngest. It could be for any number of reasons… she’s starting kindergarten in a few days and is no longer attending the daycare she’s been at for years.

We’ve gotten in the habit (mostly) of asking her frequently throughout they day, to go to the bathroom. Usually she objects strongly to being ordered to go to the bathroom.


Husband: When did you go to the bathroom last?

Kiddo: Um, when I needed to go.

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