First my poor husband. Turns out he really is quite ill. After a visit to the doctor, he came home armed with a strong antibiotic to treat strep throat AND impetigo. I can tell you right now that if your husband ever calls to say he'll be home as soon as he fills his prescription for his ailments, you should not Google "impetigo" or "impetigo images" because you will freak the 'eff out and spray anything in your line of sight with Lysol.
Last night, Harry was quite upset that I picked him up from the sitter, and not dad. He wailed and cried and had quite an impressive meltdown simply because I had the gall to collect him after a long day at the office. It is so much fun being a working mom sometimes.
When we finally arrived home, a time out in the naughty corner was necessary. I don't give timeouts just because Harry's having a bad day but when a meltdown involves a lot of sass, name calling, defiance and behavior that is dangerous (like starting said meltdown at the top of a flight of stairs), a timeout can give us both a chance to catch our breath. I follow the one minute per birthday rule. I don't know where I heard that this is the acceptable length of time but it seems to work.
So Harry was relegated to the naughty corner for four minutes and I planned on spending those next four minutes locating the source of the horrific stink in our apartment, which I knew immediately was from one of the cats. Specifically, Satan's spawn, Inky. As I was looking under tables, behind furniture and on the bedroom carpet, Harry kept crying for me to release him from the time out. I kept saying I couldn't at that moment because time wasn't up and I was busy looking for cat poop. Come here/I can't/I need you/You're fine. This went on for three minutes and then I gave up. Harry was getting more upset and there was nothing I could find that would cause such a stink. Then I saw that I'd placed poor Harry right in the "present" Satan's spawn had left in the naughty corner.
This will surely take me out of the running for Mother of the Year.
Last night, Harry was quite upset that I picked him up from the sitter, and not dad. He wailed and cried and had quite an impressive meltdown simply because I had the gall to collect him after a long day at the office. It is so much fun being a working mom sometimes.
When we finally arrived home, a time out in the naughty corner was necessary. I don't give timeouts just because Harry's having a bad day but when a meltdown involves a lot of sass, name calling, defiance and behavior that is dangerous (like starting said meltdown at the top of a flight of stairs), a timeout can give us both a chance to catch our breath. I follow the one minute per birthday rule. I don't know where I heard that this is the acceptable length of time but it seems to work.
So Harry was relegated to the naughty corner for four minutes and I planned on spending those next four minutes locating the source of the horrific stink in our apartment, which I knew immediately was from one of the cats. Specifically, Satan's spawn, Inky. As I was looking under tables, behind furniture and on the bedroom carpet, Harry kept crying for me to release him from the time out. I kept saying I couldn't at that moment because time wasn't up and I was busy looking for cat poop. Come here/I can't/I need you/You're fine. This went on for three minutes and then I gave up. Harry was getting more upset and there was nothing I could find that would cause such a stink. Then I saw that I'd placed poor Harry right in the "present" Satan's spawn had left in the naughty corner.
This will surely take me out of the running for Mother of the Year.
2 Comments:
OMG! Poor Harry! What a punishment. That really WAS a naughty corner. LOL! I believe you heard the minute per birthday rule from Nanny Jo.
poor Harry....and JOHN! Get well soon!
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