Saturday, June 9, 2012

The Child Discipline Holy Grail

Child discipline is a tough issue for most parents.  We try to fall somewhere between allowing our children to act like total idiots and beating the snot out of them until Social Services knocks on the door.

Time outs?  Rewards System?  Behavior Charts?  Believe me, I've tried them all.

I've even taken the time to read a handful of books on the subject after I read the entire Twilight series.  Proprieties, people.  Priorities.

But today, I'm telling you to throw all those books out the window!  (The child discipline ones.  Not the Twilight ones.)  And forget all the advice that you've been given about child discipline.

Because this blog contains your pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  And if you order today, I'll throw in a pink unicorn absolutely free.

How do you discipline your child?


What. You can't sing?  Can't carry a tune in a bucket?  Completely tone deaf?


Recently, I was driving my 11-year-old daughter and her friends to a restaurant.  During this short commute, I learned that eleven is the first time in a girl's life when she realizes that her mother is a total tool.  

The car ride was awkward with me being so uncool and all.  I longed for the days of old (you know, like last week) when Bailey and her friends wanted to talk to me.

But now, they were crammed into the back row of the SUV and trying to create as much distance as possible between themselves and "the Mom".  At one point, I think we were actually traveling in different zip codes.

Then the Carly Rae Jepsen song Call Me Maybe came on the radio.  What a catchy little ditty!  So I cranked it up and started singing.  I was hoping that Bailey and her friends would join me in a Girl Scout sing-a-long kind of thing.  What a bonding moment that would have been!

But I quickly realized that NOBODY was joining my crappy sing-a-long.   Unless, of course, they didn't mind getting shoved into a middle school locker later this fall.

I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw Bailey's humiliated face staring back at me.  I saw her friends staring at me, too.  There was an uncomfortable silence that no amount of Radio Disney could fill.

I'm sure that most parents would have been embarrassed by this situation, but not me.  First, because I don't get embarrassed.  Have you read this blog?  Second, because I used it as a learning opportunity instead.

THIS IS MY CURRENCY.  This is how I OWN her.

Why didn't I think of it before?

Suddenly, I had a flash back to 1986.  Permed mullets.  Ocean Pacific.  Reebok High Tops.  Swatch Watches.  And my Mom belting out Bon Jovi in our minivan while driving me and my friends to the mall.

Oooooooh..... We're halfway there.... Whooo oooooh.... Livin' on a prayer...

If I wasn't 11-years-old at the time, I probably would have been proud because my Mom has an amazing voice.  But I was 11-years-old at the time.  Ahem.  So I was livin' on a prayer that she'd suddenly develop laryngitis, if you know what I mean.

SEE.  I was given a goldmine but I was too stupid to use it.  I bet that's exactly how Paris Hilton feels.

So now when Bailey gets out of line, all I have to do is sing a Justin Bieber song.  Quietly at first.  You know, taunting her.  And by the time I'm three bars into Baby, Baby, she'll be freaking out like Jim Carey playing The Quiet Game.

Her room will be so clean.  Her vegetables will be so eaten.  Her teeth will be so brushed.


Linking up with Yeah Write.  Why?  Because it's awesome!
Be sure to check out all the amazing bloggers this week!  Come back on Thursday to vote for 5 favorites!  
(P.S. Voting for me is totally fine, too.)

popular vote winner


Tweens all over America are going to wonder what’s up as more and more mothers start singing, instead of screaming, their children into submission. Congrats, Amanda, on the win.