Boy! Which is perfect because that means that DS1 and DS2 will be less than 4 years apart in age (which is less than the age gap between my younger brother and I) and hopefully, they can play together as well.

Of course, this puts a lot of pressure on the fourth baby to be a girl. Heehee. After all, when I was putting away some of DD’s old clothes, I thought, “She can’t be the last girl! She is so sweet and cute and her clothes are ADORABLE!”

Keep in mind, though DD is a sweetie, she’s feisty and a total tyrant!! Not that DS wasn’t a tyrant, but it is much farther back in memory.

DH keeps saying that DD is a handful and that she doesn’t share well and always wants her own way. But you know what? It wasn’t like DS was born being a good sharer! We had to train and beat that into him. LOL. (I say that only partially figuratively.) So, she just needs to be taught that the world doesn’t revolve only around her.

In fact, she gets put in time outs several times a day now. She’s really good at telling me why she got a time out in the first place, too. I was impressed.


****WARNING: Many Expletives ahead.****


When I talk to my mother, I swear to fucking God, I want to kill myself or her sometimes. GEEZ.

Then, I get sad and think, “What if my relationship ends up like that with my kids?”

I think a lot of it is that my mom, despite over three decades in the US, still can’t speak English well enough to convey certain things. Other times, she doesn’t understand the nature of how something works (like EMAIL) so she can’t articulate what she wants. Combine that with the English thing and DEAR FUCKING GOD, WHY???

Of course, I have minimal patience, there is a whole history of baggage with my mom, and she thinks I’m the incarnation of my father. She doesn’t trust any thing I say and if my brother and I suggest the same fucking thing, she will agree with my brother and argue with me. TRUE FUCKING STORY. She thinks any disagreement or argument is the fucking end of the world and that we will never get along and we never have and oh, woe is she, the sorriest mother ever because she failed to parent me well. FUCK ME SIDEWAYS.



Of course, I love her and we usually normally get along. (Unless she’s been totally faking it and is always on pins and needles around me and how sad is that – but that’s her problem not mine.) It’s just that sometimes, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY – *sigh*.

I really need to remember that everything that is easy to me now and hard for her will inevitably be my experience when I am older and my kids are my age. I would want them to treat me gently and kindly and not blow up in my face when I am frustrating or incomprehensible. Either that or I will find the one kid who is like that and ignore the rest. 😉 (Kinda like my mom now!)

*sigh* Now, I’m just sad and disappointed at myself. Character problems. 😦

I’ve never had a problem with the theories of spanking. I think it’s fine and normal to spank children (within reason) and it’s not a case of child abuse, etc. However, recently, I’ve decided to put a moratorium on spanking DS.

I realized, in my case (and with great shame), that when I allow myself to spank DS, it becomes an all too easy resort. Because DS can be disobedient (you know, because he’s 2.5), it becomes all too easy for me to just jump to threatening spanking, or once I “break the seal,” so to speak, on spanking, to spank for even stupid and small infractions. I also find myself getting angrier more quickly – and starting to spank a little harder than necessary.

And I think, because I have such a huge temper, and a history of violence in my family from my father, that I really could see myself going over the edge and hurting DS. Not intentionally, of course, but I would just die of shame and guilt and grief if I were to cross the line into abuse and hurting (not just physically – but spiritually) my darling, sweet boy.

It was getting to the point where every time DS got in trouble, his hands would go immediately to cover his butt. I think that’s when you know you’re spanking too much. 😦 So, I am no longer going to threaten with spankings, spank, or hit DS. (I reserve the right to spank in swift and immediate fashion for safety reasons, though. I am ok with a spanking if it prevents him from running into traffic. Yes, that has happened.)

My boy is too precious for me to tumble down the slippery slope of physical violence. Plus, he was starting to hit and I found it hypocritical to hit him for hitting. It is hard to admit this, but there it is. I was a lousy parent. 😦

Short of regular “church” attendance, how do you go about teaching spiritual matters to your children? (eg: existence/non-existence of God(s), prayer, meditation, why is there evil?, you know, easy questions) At what age did you start? I am less interested in the outward manifestations of “religion” than the inner processes. Thanks! (Oh, and of course, keep it civil please. Now, go!)

Is evil. And I must play more. And if you know me in real life, please play with me. 😀

In addition, DH now calls me a huge hypocrite because I give him so much crap about checking his phone around the kids but now I’m on the phone all the time (and Draw Something DOES NOT HELP). No excuse, I suppose. However, I am proportionately on the phone FAR LESS around the kids than he is by sheer volume. So there!

Yes, I am that immature. That is all. I did billing tonight and I’m tired. And hungry. Mmmm… COOKIES.

I know. It’s another “Daddy” post. Some really close family friends came over this afternoon to drop off some yummy treats they picked up in Taiwan just for us (ok, for DS) and we got to talking about our families. I am so honored that my friend’s wife (and now, my good friend) was willing to confide in me some of her family’s drama (very similar to mine). I am struck anew – and I don’t know why it always surprises me and yet fails to surprise me – at how many families have fathers who just suck shit. (Seriously, there just isn’t any better way to put it.)

The cynical part of me is like, “Yup. Go figure. Another asshole, cheating, adulterous dad.” The hopeful part of me is like, “Damn. Another family torn apart by a cheating, adulterous, asshole dad.”

Hmm… both parts sound kinda similar.

Anyhow, I am just so grateful that DH is a man of good character. Though it is early on in our marriage and life together (10 years is nothing in terms of a lifetime), I am confident that my children will not have to suffer in the same ways that I did. I will invent NEW ways for them to suffer! BWAHAHAHA! (Wait – no.) I am determined to break this cycle THIS generation. That DH and I will carve out a new and whole family out of both of our family dysfunctions.

Of course, my children will realize eventually that DH and I are human and will fail and disappoint them constantly and surprisingly. But I beg of God all the time to shield my children from violence, adultery, and whatever else my father inflicted upon my brother, mother, and I.

I often have to remind myself that not only does that mean being grateful for DH’s character, but for ME to also be a person of great character. That’s a little harder to come by. But for my children, I will do no less.

I’m always startled at how many broken families there are out there in the world. Every time I pick up a book and read about real people with real broken lives, I am astonished anew. I don’t know why, really. After all, among my friends, there are many of us wounded children. Some more so than others. Why would the world of books be any different?

I think part of what makes it hurt more now is because I am a parent. Now that I have my two precious babies, it becomes even more inconceivable to me that there are bad (and sometimes, not so much bad but inept) people out there – and that the collateral damage results in more broken children who grow up to be broken adults. Sometimes the breaking is accidental, incidental consequences. Sometimes, it is purposeful and cruel. Whatever the reason, it physically hurts me to read about it, yet I cannot look away and plow through anyway.

I think of DD and DS, how small they are and how vulnerable. Of course, there are times when I want to throttle DS (like this afternoon when he wouldn’t stop whining/crying for NO discernible reason other than perhaps he was hungry but mostly because he is TWO). But even when I yell or grab him a little roughly, I always feel bad and force myself to calm down. I can’t imagine myself seriously damaging him. I suppose that is a good thing. Otherwise, my friends who read my blog would call CPS.

It is so sad and heartbreaking to think that there are millions of children out there who are ill used and unwanted and unloved. It breaks my heart that there are millions of children who ARE loved and cared for – but because of pure chance, live in a part of the world where their parents cannot provide for them in the manner in which I can provide lavishly for my kids. It isn’t fair – and yet, I am grateful beyond measure that it isn’t the other way around.

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