It's the summer holidays here, which explains why I have been absent from my blog a good bit. My time has been consumed by my constant companions, two little girls who have a love-hate relationship with each other. (Cue the Haynes Sisters singing..."Sisters, Sisters, There were never such devoted sisters...")
The weather hasn't exactly been stellar either. Yesterday I read an article that said British weather forecasters were revising their predicitons of a "barbeque summer." Now, they say, it is likely to rain throughout July and August. George and I thought it was a bit funny that they were making predictions about what July's weather would be like during the last week of July.
So... the girls and I have been trying to stay busy and entertained in the unpredictable British weather. We are often inside together all day. We are often getting in each other's space and on each other's nerves. (Don't forget I've got the hormones working on my side of things as well.) Yesterday started out to be "one of those days." Before I had even dragged my massive self out of bed, I could hear my two darling daughters absolutely screaming at each other...things like, "Emma, you NEVER share anything with me!!" and "SOPHIE, you are the meanest pest ever!!"
Often in these situations I find myself a bit torn. One of our family rules is: No shouting at each other.... BUT I want to raise girls who are confident with expressing themselves. I also know that sometimes when I find myself in the midst of a hormone-encrusted, illogical fury, a good scream really does make me feel better. Last night, for example, my husband laughed out loud in a really annoying way...or maybe he scraped his spoon against his dish...or perhaps he was just sitting there breathing and just generally being too close to me. Whatever the case, I snarled at him, "Remember how when I'm in the third trimester of pregnancy, I hate you?" Then I smiled sweetly, and felt all better. It wasn't shouting, but it was still a bit of a nasty way to express my feelings.
Back to my original point, I want my daughters to be able to express their feelings of frustration, but it's difficult to expect them to always do it respectfully when this is something of which I am completely incapable. Have you ever been locked inside the house on a rainy day with Emma Carson while she sings "I Know a Song That Will Get on Your Nerves" at the top of her lungs all day?
So yesterday morning, we had the chat about giving each other space, listening to each other and not hurting or screaming at each other. This all happened at around 8 am. (I didn't realize that George had had the exact same conversation with the girls at 7:30 am while I snoozed.) By 8:45 things hadn't improved, and I was at my wit's end. "THAT'S IT!!!" I screamed, "For the rest of the day, I want you two to stay away from each other. Don't look at each other. Don't talk to each other. Don't even THINK ABOUT each other!!! And I mean it!" "And I mean it," is one of those things you get to add to the end of sentences when you're the mom and you've had it in spades.
Sophie immediately obliged. Emma tried to negotiate a "one more chance," but I wasn't having it. Emma was clearly upset and tearful saying, "It's so unfair that I'm not even allowed to play with my own sister." Sophie appeared to actually enjoy the hiatus from her sister briefly. About forty-five minutes later, Sophie approached me and asked, "Can me and Emma play again? We promise we won't fight." I agreed to give them one more chance, and would you believe it? They didn't fight for the rest of the day.
Let the punishment fit the crime. Often it's quite effective.
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