The things you find yourself saying as a mother ...

Oh, the things that happen when you are WORKING SO HARD to avoid giving into your baser instincts.

I do try very hard to avoid corporal punishment.
This does not mean that I am not tempted. ... Oh, believe me, there are times when I could gleefully strangle a munchkin.
BUT I DON'T.
Because I am a grown-up. Because I know better and I know there are other options. Because I don't want to go to prison (though, at times, it might SEEM like a welcome break ... I know that it wouldn't be. And I really do love my children. Even though sometimes, oh my, they make it easier to love them than others.)

SO ... they will not nap. They have timeouts. There is an understanding that they will not leave their room except for potty-breaks and dinner. They are to be IN THEIR BEDS AND QUIET ... not playing.

So, OF COURSE, when we go in there, their stuff is spread ALL OVER THEIR FLOOR.
Naturally.

And it's still there after they have dinner and put on pajamas and brush and floss ...

So I snap.

Do I spank them?
No.

Do I hang them up over a vat of eels and sharks?
TEMPTING, but no. I don't even know where to get a vat, let alone where to procure eels and sharks. And, my brain boggles at the logistics of stringing them up by their toenails over aforementioned vat.
I think I might need to lie down to balance out how much THOUGHT that would entail. Oy.

NO. I threaten to start taking toys away.

"You do not NEED dress-up clothes. You do not NEED stuffed animals. You do not NEED any toys that you cannot keep picked up and put away.
"There are children out there in the world that do not HAVE toys. They do not HAVE Wiis or television or Barbies or Legos. ... They have a STICK and a ROCK. And IF they are LUCKY, they MIGHT get a cardboard box every so often. And they are HAPPY TO HAVE THOSE THINGS."

And I would have kept my composure ... if Michael hadn't had to clap a hand over his mouth, close his eyes, and maintain an expression that is either holding back vomit or laughter.
(It was the second.)

So, Bruise starts to pray.
And I lose it. I'm snickering like a loon on nitrous oxide. DURING A PRAYER.

It's all Michael's fault. I'd have kept my self-righteous pomposity if he hadn't had to fight so much for composure.

... I mean, even now, I can't keep a straight face.

We got the kids to bed and he prods, "A stick and a rock??"

"I WAS THINKING OF CHILDREN IN AFRICA!!!" I pathetically defend my argument.

And then he TRIES to get through that World Aid song ... about how there won't be snows in Africa this Christmas ... but, yeah, about ten syllables into it, he's fighting back laughter as I blow my nose and wipe my eyes at  the ... well, there are no words to describe how ... SPECIAL ... that lecture I delivered to my children really was.

But, my dears, I did have to share it with you.

What's that saying? Something about being able to laugh at yourself ensures that you'll always be entertained?

I HAZ IT.

IN SPADEZ, I HAZ IT.