

Copyright 2012 by Michelle Smith

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews. For information regarding permission, go to www.LifeWithToddlers.com.

Library of Congress Control Number applied for: 2012912469

ISBN-13: 978-1-4781-9287-9 • ISBN-10: 1-4781-9287-9

Cover and interior design by Chris Smith.

Second Edition

For my peeps,

My wonderful gaggle of ladies who keep me sane, grounded, and fill my life with love, honor, and giggles. D, I'm so thankful to the Lord (and all his chickens!) for your friendship. You are one funny lady.

# Contents

Introduction: Is Parenting Anything Other Than Guilt?

Who Should Read This Book?

Chapter One: Time – There's Never Enough!

Keeping Up with Housework

No Time for Spouse

Traveling Parent

Work

Giving Siblings Unequal Time and Attention

Split Family

Needing Time for Yourself

Other Considerations

Chapter Two: Discipline Is Hell

Yelling

Hitting or Spanking

Crying

Tantrums

Bribing Your Child to Behave Well

Bedtime Battles: Getting Kids to Sleep

Co-Sleeping

Lying

Chapter Three: Crappy Nutrition

We're on a Roll! Or Rather, We Were on a Roll

Fast Food

Hiding the Green (and Lying Our Butt Cheeks Off)

Please Just Eat Something! Refusals to Chew

Throw in a Medical Diagnosis, Please

Who Gives Up? I Do, I Do!

Chapter Four: I'm a Horrible Parent!

Our Mood

Our Actions/Reactions (Poop and Wine)

Blowing Up

Chapter Five: Neglect and Regrets

Not Doing Enough

Fussy Grandparents

Letting Things Go

Note from Author

About the Author

Toddler ABC Guide To Discipline: Quick Secrets to Loving Guidance

Life with Toddlers: 3 simple strategies to ease the struggle and raise happy, healthy toddlers

Taboo Secrets of Pregnancy: A Guide to Life with a Belly

Tiger Tamer: Discipline for Challenging Behavior in Ages 5 to 12

Fat Cat Bedtime Stories

Free Book - Oops! The 9 Ways We Screw Up Our Toddlers

Free Book - Fat Cat Finds a Home

Get free printable Toddler Behavior Charts, Reward Charts, Potty Training charts and much more at www.ToddlerABC.com

Acknowledgements

Ah, my cheerful editor, Leslie Fossen: How shall we list the ways I adore you? Who else would gaily look up whether or not to capitalize the word "hell"? With your Vulcan intellect and outrageous humor, I cannot wait until you crank out your own book and relieve us all of reading these tiresome classics and Pulitzers. You are an amazing mom, inspirational writer, and keep me laughing. Thank you.

For my contributing friends who are absolutely precious to me. Oh my gosh. I love you crazy, hilarious ladies! And the rest of you sweet people who write to me and share your stories: I know I'm technically a stranger to you, but I thank you for opening your hearts and giving me your support and trust. Group hug, group hug!!

To my little ladies, Poppy, Mimi, and Wee: What sweet little ducklings you are. I hope that when you're older and actually read this book, you'll understand how guilty I feel for having to take the time to write it! I wasn't cooking with you or helping you with homework, but I desperately hope I never shooed away a need for cuddles. You are a gift from God. I love you more than words can express.

Last but never least, endless thanks to my superhero hubby. As I write this, tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and of course I have nothing planned for you, being the rotten, overly practical, unromantic wife that I am. Oh! I can run out and buy you a circular saw or drill—would that work? I'm not one to find a mushy card or give a gooey love speech, but I will say this: You are the best father in the world and seem to adore me even through my terrible hormones, distractions, and constant dizziness when painting. What more could a woman want?
Introduction: Is Parenting Anything Other Than Guilt?

So I'm a very laid-back person. Wait. Take that back. Obsessive-compulsive, anxiety-ridden, and a little dramatic. But in a good way. So when I posed the question, "What do you feel guilty about?" to my birds-of-a-feather friends, I expected some ramblings about potty training and yelling—the usual stuff. Stuff that you feel guilty about, but it's really nothing serious in the broad scheme of things. But one of them piped back, "Is parenting anything other than guilt?" Like I was crazy for even asking. Parenting = guilt. Isn't that obvious?

Well holy schmoly . . . no, it's not obvious! And back the truck up just a second. I'm a nutty chic who grew up on Catholic guilt, so you know I'm a glutton for punishment. But to equate parenting to one big pile of stinkin' guilt? Wow. But then I thought about it. She's right! What day goes by that we don't feel guilty about something? And who imagined this as their life? What happened to those cheerful, happy-family images we conjured up when we first found out that "family" was in our near future? Did we picture ourselves yelling at our kids? Screeching tantrums rocking the house? Tears enough to fill buckets? No, siree, we did not. Nor did we imagine the weight of guilt that comes with doing the right thing by our kids.

Before I had my children, I thought I had motherhood all figured out. I knew exactly how I would raise them. I'd never lose my temper or yell, and they would watch only thirty minutes of TV a day—but not until they were at least five! I'd cook only healthy food and make sure they brushed their teeth two times a day. Pshhh! Whatever! There is a little thing called life that gets in the way! But even though I know that the life I dreamed up came from a crack-smokin', clueless young woman, I still think that I should have tried harder and could have done more. G-U-I-L-T! —Sue, mom of three

Who Should Read This Book?

Moms, Dads, and caregivers of young children (up to five years old) will definitely get the most use out of this book. (Although we'll lean a little more toward females, as males tend to have an amazing built-in guilt stopper—lucky dudes.) While there are several examples of guilt producers and how-to with older kids, alas, the subject keeps drifting back to those short people with engaging smiles. Can't help it. They're adorable, time-consuming, frustrating, and exhausting. As kids age, you still have horrible guilt—which can increase exponentially as kids reach high school and struggle with the transition to adulthood—but newer parents are the ones most in tune with "fixing" the guilt. Parents of kids in middle and high school tend to simply live with and accept the guilt and behavior issues, sporting a "there's nothing I can do now" attitude. Changing the way they do things becomes more and more difficult. The unhealthy patterns of communication are so ingrained that it becomes a mountain to defeat.

So for the parents of younger children, while this book is no get-out-of-jail-free card, my hope is that it will steer you in the right direction, get us out of the guilt-funk, and help us make better choices as parents. Productive, positive choices. I'm no psychiatrist or medical doctor, and I'm not working off a huge research study. This is a down-to-earth, non-technical read. It's meant to be friend-to-friend, funny, and light-hearted. I've been there, I'm still there, and we need to vent, laugh, and give each other chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.

While our guilt is real, it may be holding us back from awesome parenting potential. We must be secure enough to take a good, long look in the mirror and see what we can change. Or confirm what we need to feel good about. When Sally Sweet throws a whopping tantrum because it's time for a potty break, we can't feel guilty for fighting through it and making her sit that little bootie on the toilet. Whether or not we're making the right choice as far as pushing her is one thing. But feeling guilty because we think she's miserable and will hate the potty and hold her poop for the rest of her life . . . uum, no. Kids can dislike our requests to do such horrendous things as sit on the potty, but throwing a tantrum is not the way to share those feelings. We need to stick to our guns.

It's necessary to break up the guilt into manageable parts and deal with the real problem. Half of the time our guilt is really unjustified when you step back and get some perspective. We need to learn what sets us off and how to tackle it objectively. Once we learn how to separate our emotions from the drama, life gets easier. And listen, I'm all about the emotional aspect of parenting and how that affects every single thing we do. But we're going to get over the unnecessary guilt! We're going to figure out that we're okay, our kids are okay, and life is good.

You'll definitely get pats on the back from me, but I've got to tell you up front, I hate boring books. At this point in life (I'm so old that my ass is sliding down to my ankles more and more each minute), I refuse to write something that will guarantee a quick snooze. I have a big yapper, make quirky remarks, and tell it like it is. So don't expect political correctness, sugar coating, or formal language. Not happening here. Just remember, we're all in this together. I'm not here to pass judgment, admonish, or patronize. Bah! We have enough to feel rotten about.

One important thing you need to know about this book is that the topics are arranged so that you can jump to the parts you need. You don't have to read straight through, especially if you're the type to start thinking, "Holy cow, am I supposed to feel guilty about all this other stuff, too?" (Yes, I know you'd never actually say 'holy cow' but I'm making a point here.) Don't feel guilty while reading a book on getting over guilt. That's just a little on the crazy side. Not allowed here. The topics are many, so if the unread parts start making you feel even more guilty, chill. Everyone is different and everyone has their guilt buttons. Find your personal button and read about it.

Beyond that, don't get worked up about other people's. And don't assume you'll go through everything in here. You won't. Every family has strengths and weaknesses. If anything, you need to look at the areas you aren't worried about and sigh with relief, "Whew! Glad I'm not the poor schmuck who's going through that!"

See? Don't you feel better already? You're not that poor schmuck.

In this book you will learn:

* The Five Big Ones: The major issues we feel guilty about (and all the subcategories of crap that go with it).

* How to manage guilt in an objective way.

* How to change what we do to make our parenting better.

* How to realize what we do well and stick to it.

* How to stop our kids from pushing our guilt buttons.

* How to change the dynamic of our house from negative to positive.
Chapter One: Time – There's Never Enough!

Unless you're blessed with nannies, housekeepers, chauffeurs, and personal chefs (which I don't want to hear about—you suck, you spoiled little brat), there is, and never will be, enough time to get it all done. Period. Welcome to the wonderful world of parenting. There's a constant imbalance of clean house, good food on the table, time at home, time with your spouse, time with each child, and (ha!) time for yourself.

A friend just told me that life is like a bicycle wheel. You, your spouse, work, home, children, church, extended family—everything in your life is represented by a bicycle spoke. When one spoke is longer than the other, your wheel isn't perfectly round, and you can't ride your bike. Life is a constant struggle to balance these spokes and keep your ride smooth. Frankly, I don't know if this smooth phenomenon has ever actually occurred in my life. So if you're having trouble, you're in fine company!

Keeping Up with Housework

Hmmmm . . . let's see. Do we make our kids lunch or dust the living room? Do we pick up the eight thousand toys on the floor (so we can make a path to the TV), or do we clean bathrooms? Do we nurse our ear-infected child or go through the stash of bills, older kids' school work, flyers, mail, and all the other crap on the kitchen counter?

Believe me, honey, I feel your pain. A messy house to me is so unnerving that if I'm PMSing, I literally have to turn a blind eye or I'll crack right in half. I don't even set foot upstairs in my house, lest I blow hot lava and burn my little kids' fannies. I mean, sure, if I had nothing else to do all damn day, I'd clean up the endless piles of laundry, kid projects, toys, cat hair, dishes, and dust bunnies. But who on earth has nothing to do all day? It's so awful right now that I literally look at a dirty toilet, think, "I need to clean that," and then walk away! I actually ignore a toilet with a brown ring around the water edge. What kind of mother and wife am I? Gosh, if I weren't living it, just the thought makes me want to puke. And go to confession.

Because I stay at home, you'd think my house would be spotless all the time, but it's amazing how it takes 3.5 seconds for three kids to completely destroy it! Then I feel guilty that it's not sparkling. —Emily, mom of three

Some of us work outside the home, and some of us work inside the home. And by work inside, no, I'm not talking about the home business that you have to give time and energy to so you guys can make ends meet. No, no, no. That doesn't count, does it? When I say inside, I mean the kid: that little bumblebee buzzing from one area to the next, leaving a path of destruction and pausing only to cry over who-knows-what or demand food every hour. It's not the easiest thing to set aside a toddler (and that no-work home business you piddle around with) and bust your buns cleaning the house.

So what do we do? Oh, pickle. I feel like a total criminal offering advice, seeing as how this is my main struggle in day-to-day family management. My friend Nicole is exactly the same way, yet at one point in time (after she started back to work) I went to her house and my eyes bugged right out of my head. Before I could stop it, my mouth went off in a slow exclamation of astonishment. "Ho-ly mother of destruction!" There was just—stuff—crap—shit—everywhere. Clothes, books, toys, papers, laundry baskets, shoes, cups, pillows, blankets, kiddie bikes, blocks, markers, Play-Doh, Christmas decorations, play food, stickers, cat hair. It was the granddaddy of messes. Nicole gets chest pains with clutter so I couldn't fathom how she'd gotten to the point where she could live in such chaos. Not that I thought it was awful; on the contrary, I was jealous. How do you get over it and be happy where you're at in life?

Turns out, she didn't exactly get over the mess. It just got to be more of a burden to fight. She has a husband who stacks papers on his office desk until the tower gets so tall that it topples over in a heap onto the floor. Then he just steps over them to get to the chair; totally acts as if those papers aren't covering the floor and crackling under his feet as he misses the three-inch square of carpet to plant his toe. Additionally, the man will literally shed all clothes as he walks in the door from work, leaving a path of shirts, shoes, and pants that promptly become invisible once disconnected from his body. Seriously, if Nicole weren't around, I have no earthly idea how he'd ever locate socks once a pair was worn and discarded. I imagine he'd just buy new packages and never wear the same ones twice. He might run across a pair one day while digging under the couch for the TV remote and go, "Oh. A sock." But the brilliant discovery would go untouched—left right there to die a silent death among lost toys and cracker crumbs—as the dude diverted his eyes and quickly forgot he ever saw them.

So here's Nicole, having to deal not only with a husband who has selective clutter-vision, but two kids who are exactly the same. Oh yes, you heard me right. She lives with three complete, utter, and painfully unaware slobs. She went through a period of migraines and testing for lupus, high blood pressure, and eight other funky conditions that she's too young to get, and I'm sure it was just the stress on her body before she found a Zen place and gave up fighting. She managed to justify a housekeeper (based on keeping her sanity) but the poor woman couldn't actually clean until the shit got picked up. And guess who was supposed to pick up the shit? So for a while she went on and on about needing to find a housekeeper who would "just put stuff away" but never could find one. She would constantly moan, "I can vacuum! I can wipe a damn countertop! I don't need someone to clean; I need someone to clear this stuff out of here so I can actually get to a floor and counter!"

Rather than starting a new life in another part of the country as far away from her former clutter as possible, she tossed in her towel. Taking a deep breath, she vowed to do only what housework she could, when she could. Beyond that, it's all about lighting a lavender-scented candle in her brain and trying to find a happy place whenever the mess gets overwhelming.

When I'm at her house, there is not one second she's not de-cluttering, sweeping, picking up toys, stacking papers, folding laundry, picking up everyone's stray clothes, cooking, or clearing off the kitchen table. But now she does it without steam coming out of her ears. For her birthday, she treated herself to a day on the couch. Going out to dinner was nixed because it meant showering (and standing upright). Instead, hubby picked up some Thai for dinner from her favorite restaurant and Nicole said it was the best day she'd spent in years.

You may be horrified to hear this, but as kids get older, the messes only get worse. Toddlers have a limited amount of toys, and you have control over how much. Trucks and books litter the house each day, but at the end of the night you can shove them back in their basket, box, or cubby. The older kids get, however, the more complex the toys, the tinier the pieces, and the longer they leave it out because "I'm still working on it!" So I'm telling you now, enjoy the life if you only have wee ones. Box up half the toys if you can't stand it, and rotate them out every few months. This will decrease the amount you have to step on, deliberately ignore, or bend over and pick up.

My kids don't clean up after themselves and it wears me out. I ask, then yell, and then they make me feel so guilty that I just give up. They act like I'm so mean when I ask them to clear the table. I don't know what to do. Sometimes I think they should do more to help, but other times it's easier to do it myself and avoid the argument. —Gina, mom of two

I simply cannot get my kids to help me clean! At one point I got them to throw their laundry onto the stairs so I could collect it, but that's as much as I can get them to do, and now they don't even do that anymore. We are just so busy all the time and I'm out of energy. —Vanessa, mom of three

If you absolutely must have some semblance of order and cleanliness or you're headed to the loony bin, make the kids help you. Make, don't ask. Firmly insist. If they're old enough to clean up after themselves, start barking orders and making them mind. There's no excuse for a kid letting you flutter around and clean up after them all day. That's bull-hooey. Put those lazy bums to work. You deserve better. Don't let them make you feel guilty for not cleaning up their messes. They aren't wearing a crown and holding a royal highness title, and you aren't getting paid to be their slave. They can get their booties off the couch and start working muscles they've never had to use. Throwing away a day-old slice of pizza and wiping their bathroom counter is horrible, demeaning, backbreaking work, I know, but they will survive.

Even the toddler babies can help you clean. Get a routine going. At a certain time each day, you pick up toys. Plant yourself on the floor to help and direct, but make them put stuff away. There is a little, tiny life-lesson that states, "If you make a mess, clean it up." Even at fourteen months old, you can stick a basket in front of a toddler and teach her the "put-the-blocks-in-here" game. She'll be sorely tempted to dump it back out if you turn your back, so you have to stay on top of her, but she'll get it.

After you de-clutter, you can start cleaning. If you need to mop the floors, give your child a (sort of) wet rag, and let him start wiping. He'll probably end up trying to stick the dog in the eye with the corner of the rag, but at least you've got him occupied and in your line of sight. Hopefully he'll stay interested long enough so you can get your floor done. Or you can always have a cleaning play date. Drop your kid at a friend's house while you clean for two hours. Then you return the favor later.

Whatever it is you need to do, find a way to get your child involved. It keeps you from ignoring him (thus starting the clingy behavior), allows you to introduce a fun, novel task, and keeps you from feeling even more guilty for not spending time with him. If you're cooking, give him a bowl, cotton balls, and measuring cups so he can imitate you pouring flour. And no, it's not lost on me that you'll just have to clean up the bowl and cotton balls and hunt down the misplaced half cup measure because you need it to make dinner. I'm not saying this is a cure-all. It will just help you get a little more done without having to stick him in front of the TV or ship him off to grandma's. It may be a two steps forward, one step back kind of thing, but it's still progress.

My mom has some cute saying about "quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep . . ." (Although she never remembers the actual words, hemming and hawing for four minutes until she ends up with something like "dust bunnies be quiet, cobwebs wait until tomorrow"—by which time I've already left the room). Every time I complain about not getting housework done, she starts in on this, making me sigh in resignation and acquiesce to the advice from someone who, at one point in time, might've been considered for a reality show on hoarding. God bless that sweet woman, she keeps so much crap that she'll show up at my house with a shoe box full of twenty-year-old, ratty, used crayons that she's saved for my kids. Deep down, she knows I'll toss the stinky things in the garbage as soon as she leaves. But growing up poor and sharing a tiny farmhouse with eight brothers and sisters, she still holds out hope that I'll stop being so wasteful.

So, silly as it seems to tell cobwebs to hold their horses, there is a tiny bit of wisdom in it. As long as we don't end up with the Health Department at our house, it can indeed wait a day or two. Sometimes there's a sick kid or family member, out-of-town emergencies, or even a period where we just can't get out of our depressive funk and find the motivation to clean. That's okay. Just don't let it pile up too high and maintain a minimal amount of cleanliness; we'll get to it eventually. Babies are only babies once. If we miss those sweet little tootsies making their first steps because we're too busy scrubbing baseboards, which guilt do you think will override?

Honey, we need to relax. Coming from the Queen of Clean-House Anxiety, this might seem a bit insincere, but I'm hanging on to you as much as you're reaching out to me. We're running this hamster wheel together, and we need to stop every once in a while and catch our breath over some coffee. Once we've recharged a bit, we can start barking out the orders and get our messy peeps to work, helping us slow down the mileage on our little wheels.

Do what you can, when you can. Learn to live with a to-do list that's never finished. It never will be, no matter what you do, so stop trying. The most you'll ever get is about fifteen minutes of perfectly clean bliss before people start coming in and messing stuff up again. But that's living, girl! If there's no one making messes, there's no one to love and love you back. "Family" is the word that defines us right now, and it's a good thing. Hug those messy people and love 'em to pieces.

No Time for Spouse

So we're going nutso trying to keep up with kids, work, house cleaning, a nagging mother-in-law, and all the rest of life's little hang-ups. In the heat of the frenzy, don't talk to me about spousy needs! Spouse what? Are you kidding? Who is the big person in this picture? Who is mature enough to actually see what's going on and take one for the team? Don't whine to me or start sulking about needing attention or (heaven help me) sex. Great balls of fire!

With one or more little people clinging to you and needing you every second of the day, there is nothing left. Zippo. Nada. We are drained flat. There's certainly no desire for any more cuddling or listening to problems. We've had enough toddler tribulations, enough of someone wanting our arms wrapped around them. We've spent all day listening to our child blabber about how Big Blue Ranger battled little duck and smashed him to bits. I mean, really? We have no choice but to be fully tuned in about Big Blue Ranger attacking innocent mallards—our child's self-esteem and well-being depends on it! So don't come home crying about important stuff like how mean the boss is or how you didn't get that promotion you worked so hard for. Wah, wah, wah! We are tapped out on lost blankies, toilet training (kill me), and constant screams during nap time. Forget looking for comfort here, pal. There's no sympathy pouring out when we haven't even gotten a shower in the last twenty-four hours, yet hubby's going on and on about suffering through lunch with clients at a fancy steakhouse. Snap! Oooh, dear. Someone just shook my can and popped it open—I'm about to spew some fizz at ya.

Then, if you throw in working full- or part-time outside the home, it's over, baby. Don't even attempt asking me to fill your little mental cup with love and sex and attention. We're rushing in the morning, rushing to daycare, rushing to work, rushing to wolf down lunch, rushing to write ten reports, rushing back to daycare, rushing home, rushing for dinner, rushing to get the kids bathed and in bed—when is there time to breathe? And when is there time for us? Talk about a mental cup being empty. Ours is bone-dry and cracking, for crying out loud.

While some of you may thrive on this nonstop go-go-go, most of us are dog-tired. Either way, we still end up with no time for a spouse at the end of the day. Which leads to guilt. And the problem is, this guilt doesn't hit us when we need to act. Nooo, no. We're too tired to care at ten o'clock at night. Our guilt waits to flare until the next day when we've slept a tiny bit (in between our child howling at one, three, and five a.m.). By morning, we've recovered a modicum of our wits back and actually feel bad that we shooed our beloved away in a sleep-deprived moment of shoving, yelling, or glares.

Even if life is completely void of day-to-day squabbles and our other half gets into an automated cycle of leaving us alone and politely going about the business of helping make the house run smoothly, our guilt buttons will eventually start flashing away. Holy cow! He's gonna divorce me! He'll find some young chic with a boob job and undivided attention if I can't pull it together and give him the time of day! On our way to work in the morning, our thoughts flicker through all these horrible end-scenarios (including boob-job lady becoming our child's stepmom . . . eeeewwwww). But by the time we get back home that night, put dinner on the table, and have the kids bathed and in bed, we're too tired to care again. Turn off the dadgum lights and let me sleep!

My husband came home from work one night and tried to hug me, but I was making dinner and told him to go away. My four-year-old realized I needed help and went up to daddy saying, "Here I am!" After my son got daddy's attention, he said to me, "I distracted daddy with myself!" He was so proud of himself for "helping" me. I kind of felt bad that my son thought I needed help, but still got warm fuzzies that he did it.

—Lauren, mom of two

So now we're feeling guilty for shooing hubby away and feeling all mushy for enlisting our kid's help. And just where does this cycle of guilt nonsense lead us? Straight to our spouses, my dear. Yes ma'am. We need to carve out some time so boob woman doesn't become a permanent fixture in our lives. Boob woman should not, of course, be our only motivation. We love the person we married, right? I assume we all want to stay married too. (If not, yap those woes to someone else because that's a topic for another day in the Guilt Club.) We can go round and round about this, but the fact of the matter is our spouse needs our time or the marriage will end up capooey.

And (assuming you're the mother) here's another interesting factoid (or opinion, however you want to look at it): the best thing we can do for our kids is to love their father. Putting daddy first is sometimes the best way to model how to have a loving relationship, work through differences, and create an awesome family. Our kids learn by example. Sure, if they're throwing up all over the house, you put the yak cleanup first. But in general, you know what I mean. There comes a time when your kid is hanging on your leg, screeching about his toy bird's feather coming out, and you have to stop and say, "Enough. Feathers can wait. Daddy needs a hug and I'm going to prioritize that."

Forget a fancy dinner. Forget letting your kid monopolize two hours of your night with a nonsensical, demanding bedtime routine. Forget returning phone calls to eight friends. (Okay, wait. Don't forget that one. Just put it off.) Find some time in your day to give your spouse one-on-one attention, make a batch of his favorite cookies, or at least give him your ear when he's had a bad day and wants to share. Do you even know how many wives would love their husband to open up and talk? Embrace that, girl! I understand it can be draining, but your child will demand as much attention as you will give. That will absolutely not end until you sprout fairy wings and fly to never-never land. So put up some healthy boundaries.

Speaking of that, here we go with the discipline stuff: kids want and need boundaries. It makes them feel secure and happy. So start with some clear limits on how much time and energy you will let the kids suck out of you. They are vacuums, honey. I swear. So you have to tell them (very nice and motherly-like) when you've had enough of their demands. But don't be too mushy about it or they won't take you seriously and will try to pile on more guilt. Just what we need!

So be firm, be kind, and set those boundaries. Spend some quality time with hubby if he needs it. Get some recharging of your own battery in there, too. The kids may put up a fuss, but you are not a piece of Silly Putty that stretches from one end of the house to the other. You are a person with limitations and needs. Make everyone respect that. If you don't meet your own needs (prioritizing your marriage counts), you will not be able to meet theirs.

Traveling Parent

It's rare, at least where I live and hang, for both parents to be free of traveling obligations. We no longer cringe in sympathy when a friend or new acquaintance talks of daddy being gone for weeks at a time. In fact, it's so common that talk quickly morphs into, "Oh man, he's in town tonight and you have to make dinner? Bummer!" Stay-at-home moms get into such a groove and routine that daddy coming back into town throws a loop in the system. Sad to say, but it means that you must take care of and accommodate one more person. And that person may not see eye to eye with you on those guilt producing issues.

First off, the traveling parent may feel guilty for being gone so long, so they let the kids get away with too much nonsense. The kids know it's coming, too. They hoover it for all it's worth. Vrrrroooooom, suck, suck, suck. Some toddlers really turn on the wicked behavior (hitting, pushing, biting, kicking, scratching), and parents write me wondering what the heck is going on.

We are having trouble with our 2 ½ year old hitting, acting out, and pushing his younger brother. I think it's because I work out of state and only see them once a month. I talk to him almost every day by webcam or video phone, and we try to explain that what he's doing isn't nice, but it's not working. —Robert, dad of two

Kids thrive on a routine, and traveling parents monkey with that routine. It's not that the kids don't love you. They're just off balance. They need structure, consistency, and limits (part of the Five Basics in two of my other books, Life with Toddlers and Toddler ABC Guide to Discipline). Toddlers especially love a set routine and get loads of security from knowing what comes next and what to expect. When you change that routine, they get upset.

But your travel schedule is what it is, and everyone must deal. The job is putting food on the table and paying bills. If the kid wants fresh diapers every day, he'd better cut that crappy behavior out. If he doesn't, the traveling spouse gets mad at the kid, the kid doesn't show any love, and the spouse doesn't feel loving. It's an ugly circle of negativity.

My two-year-old is biting, hitting, scratching, and kicking. I'm in the military and gone a few weeks here and there. Every time I return, my daughter's behavior is worse. She attends daycare and there are no problems there. It is only directed at me and her father. —Amy, mom of one

Often our guilt overrides what's best for our kids. We may give them what they want all the time, thinking it will make them happy. Or we overlook hitting, biting, and pushing because we think they're thrown off by the change in routine and just need some slack.

Well, I'm here to tell you baby, no slack. Do not let your child treat you or your spouse like caca. And the guilt over traveling needs to stop. You travel to keep your family afloat, right? If you hate the job, look for a new one. In the meantime, that's life. I'm sure you're terrific at what you do, and if the travel has to continue (or you simply want it to stay that way) forward ho.

Of course, life is a hell of a lot easier when the child is on a set routine instead of being yanked around day to day like a rag doll. If a kid has a consistent daily schedule, throwing loops in it won't rock their world so much. So if you don't have consistency, fix that. Whoever is home with the child needs to prep him that the traveling parent is coming home soon. Maybe you can have a cute activity before each arrival: make a card or a little snack or put a stuffed animal on the bed to welcome the parent home. Such a signal lets the child know that a change in the routine is coming. Transitions are hard for kids and this makes life just a little bit easier.

When the parent (let's say daddy) gets home, he needs to set aside some quality time with the child, one on one. (Granted, this is a daddy who feels the need to connect, not one who wants to have some breathing room and his shoes polished.) A game, a book, a walk—any consistent activity will help everyone get adjusted to daddy being home again and get back into the family swing. And one-on-one time is just that: one on one. It's not throwing a gift at the kid and expecting him to leave you alone. Getting into the habit of replacing time with gifts is a sucky thing to do. Kids could care less. They want your time and love, not a toy instead.

While it's not a fix-all, positive changes in your routine can make a world of difference in bad behavior. Make sure the traveling parent is treated with respect each and every time the transition takes place. You might get freaking sick of having to start over every single time your spouse comes home, but you're teaching your child how to deal with bumps in the road. It's not a bad thing. As long as you have a loving family, all will be fine.

However, bad behavior caused by parental spoiling is just one issue raised by travel guilt. Another aspect of travel guilt is, well, just plain guilt. Let's say you are in the military. While you may feel horrible for having to be gone for weeks, months or years, there is no finding another job. You signed up to serve your country and this is part of it. Your child may not understand it right now but they will grow up and appreciate your dedication and service to our country.

Listen, I'm sure you are doing your best, you love your children, and they love you just as much. Make the best of the time you have with them, and don't waste one minute feeling guilty. You are a wonderful parent. Without your sacrifices, your child, my child, and every other child in this nation would not be free to enjoy our indulgences. So indulge yourself with the gift of squashing that guilt and not giving it another thought!

Work

While we're on the subject of paying bills, let's hit regular ol' work. You keep long hours, the kids are in daycare, someone's constantly getting sick, you struggle just getting through the day . . . on and on it goes. Honey, if we have to make a paycheck, we have to make a paycheck. It stinks, but such is life.

I was lucky enough to be able to stay home until my third child was four. But even putting her in preschool full time (and only for half a year) made my stomach hurt. Then she went off to kinder and cried every day for a month straight, nearly sending my husband to a shrink, as he was the one who dropped her off each morning.

People, we can't do it on our own. We can't work, watch kids, make healthy dinners and keep our house clean all by ourselves. (I don't want to hear from any snobs who tell me you can. Liar. If you're so great that you can simultaneously talk with a client, cook dinner, and make Play-Doh people with your child, then you aren't allowed in this Club. Go find your own chocolate. Hrumph.) Realize that we aren't faultless. We can't constantly be those cheery moms on commercials. It's unrealistic and stupid. Hell, maybe the snobs are right: we're spoiled and need to suck it up and find the energy to be the perfect wife and mother. But I for one have given up. Sometimes the entire family has to do their share to keep the cogwheels churning. And if it makes the family great, then why are we bawling?

Kids are resilient. Believe it or not, it's good life experience to deal with working parents. Having to figure out a few things on their own (heaven forfend!) makes them independent little people. Sure, I still feel guilty when I sit here writing instead of making dinner for my kids, or have to tootle off to work as a speech therapist and miss my little one's school presentation on the state symbols of Arkansas. But I know my kids are learning to take care of themselves and figuring out that life doesn't always revolve around them. Do not discount this lesson! It may seem like a pathetic excuse to do our own thing, but it's not. Kids get too much handed to them on silver platters. We also fix way too many of their mental boo-boos. Granted, I'm assuming that you are on the side of the more indulgent parent. Obviously we cannot ignore our children to the point that they feel unloved and make bad choices. We just need to remember that the indulgences given to our kids cannot outweigh the needs of our family. Does that make sense?

Girl, we have to work. Whether it's outside the home or in, we have to get our stuff done. We can't live in filth. We can't buy fast food dinners every single night. We have to divert our attention from our children sometimes. And you know what? Everyone will freaking live! So you can't sew sock monkey's arm back on right this minute (or even in the next week). So you contemplate letting your kid go without a bath for two nights in a row. So what? It's not like your child is so lacking in guidance that he's getting kicked out of preschool (but if so, we need to talk). Give it a rest and do what you can.

Guilt can be a good thing. It can be our reminder to give our child a smile or a kiss or to call them in and have them help us make dinner. Guilt can give us a push to stick with the bedtime routine so our child feels secure and happy. As long as we don't mull over all the crappy things we did throughout the day, guilt can motivate us to be better parents. We just have to use it constructively instead of wallowing in our own misery.

Giving Siblings Unequal Time and Attention

My twins had just turned three when I had my third child. She was such a good baby and the twins were a nightmare, so I spent most of my time dealing with them and ignored my newborn. I missed most of her babyhood! —Cheryl, mom of four

Ooooh, the never-ending guilt gusher! Johnny gets more attention than Susie, and Susie acts like a toot because she feels unloved. But how do we help it? Johnny is a baby, Susie is older. Johnny will fall down the stairs or drink toilet bowl cleaner if I don't watch him! Plus there is constant feeding, diaper changing, teething, refusing to sleep, and the never-ending threat of him finding a lint-covered binky and popping it in his mouth. How on earth do I put him aside and give Susie one-on-one? It's impossible!

Here's where I agree. It is rather impossible. Daily life with little people is a blur of necessities and crying and that's all there is to it. I can try to talk you out of feeling guilty until I no longer need coffee, but it's useless. All of us with multiple little ones go through this. We all feel the fissure in our hearts. Even if you have a live-in, super cool, non-nagging sweet little grand mom living with you, this guilt is an unfailing fact of life for any parent who so much as gives a shit. There is just not enough of us to go around.

Now let's throw in being a parent of a special needs child. On the one hand, you've got a sweet little girl who gives you no trouble at all. Then you've got her younger brother with autism who constantly rips off his clothes, knocks over anything standing, kicks the dog, uses his fist to communicate with his sister, smashes anything remotely breakable, refuses to bathe, topples chairs, throws food at you, and vocalizes nothing but screams. So let's see . . . what kind of guilt does that create? Guilt over ignoring the daughter, guilt over subjecting her to the violence, guilt over even thinking about putting the son into a program equipped to handle him, guilt over letting him get away with murder because you're too tired to fight, guilt over expecting the daughter to behave age appropriately (because hell, look at her model of what it is possible to get away with), guilt over not spending time with the child who actually shows us love . . . oh my gosh.

Or maybe it's not this extreme. Maybe you just feel bad that Susie gets the shaft because Johnny needs to be rocked to sleep. This may seem trivial compared to the above situation, but it's still your life and your emotions. It's your reality and your burden. How can you be there for all of your children and give them equal time?

My friend, life is the great equalizer. Over time, the fairness aspect will even out. The only thing to worry about is when you really don't like one of your children and the balance is shot from the get go. Don't get me wrong, because of course we love our children. But sometimes our personalities clash with a certain child, or that child has issues and acts hateful. Sure we can love them, but liking them is a different story. And if we don't like them, how do we act like we really do and avoid screwing up our kid for life?

Oh mercy. No pressure here.

Okay, so I'm hitting on some extremes. Most of the time, we might go through phases of not liking one kid or another, but it's generally not a constant struggle. I remember a dark and sleep-deprived moment when I confessed to my horrified husband that a part of me wished we hadn't been so quick to have another kid. You can paint this however you want, but to the non-hormonally crazed person, it translates into "maybe we shouldn't have had this kid." Which is awful. Appalling. How could I have voiced such a thing?

My husband saw the big picture and knew I was literally out of my mind. So he reassured me and then redirected my thoughts. But even thinking back on this still makes me miserable with guilt. Yet—based on conversations with other parents—I think this is normal. I'm no psychologist and certainly not privy to the latest psycho analysis and research. But common sense tells you that we all get overloaded, we all occasionally (or frequently) question our sanity in wanting kids, and we all go through periods of not feeling loving.

We are only human. We're flawed and make mistakes. And while there are those who say that our true character reveals itself under stress, I'd like to go with my husband and think that we should judge a person at their best. It shows what they're capable of. We're all capable of better, especially in our ghastly moments. This is what makes us great parents: we know that we're capable of change and we strive to do better. You're reading this book, aren't you? You want support and guidance. That proves that you're worthy of your calling!

I wish I could tell you to stop feeling guilty over this, but I'm not going to. This guilt marks you as a great parent. It means you care about your children and you're not a narcissistic toad. In the grand scheme of things, this means you are perfect just the way you are! If you want to go one step further, when you recognize an opportunity to give attention to a child who needs it, seize that opportunity, even if you're crazy-tired. A quick kiss, a book, a cuddle . . . embrace it. Then give yourself credit, even if it's not your ideal vision. It's still a loving gesture and you didn't pass it up.

Split Family

Doesn't this suck. It's bad enough to feel guilty when you've already got the "perfect" traditional family situation. But having a split family is the skunk in our midst. This awful business stinks. We'd like to kill it with our car tire and get as far away as possible.

But girlfriend, that's not happening.

It is so difficult to manage life with my ex. He is incredibly manipulative and makes my daughter so angry at times. She dreads having to spend time at his house. She's in fourth grade and too young to understand what he's doing and why. He just wants to hurt me and uses her to do it. I pray and pray that she will not have lasting damage from this. —Tiffany, mom of one

If you're lucky, there is some part of your ex and his/her family that you can at least not hate. Hopefully, it's possible to be civil. But the guilt of actually hating your ex and their stupid new family (including the twenty-four-year-old, big-boobied chicky-doodle for a stepmom), while trying to put on a happy face for your child who has to deal with it all . . . ugh. Huge hugs. You have my deepest sympathy.

If the hate factor is in check, it makes life bearable. But it's still possible to have to deal with "my kid gets away with murder over there," or "my kid is miserable with forced visitation." Which reeks. It's impossible to describe the helplessness and despair you feel when your sweet baby is exposed to dismal parenting and you have to undo the damage every single time they come back to you. Frustrating and heartbreaking doesn't quite cover it.

My step-son is three and his father and I have custody. He visits his mother on weekends, but my husband and his ex don't get along at all. We don't say anything negative about his mom in front of him, but he comes home from visits telling us that, "Mom says bad things about dad." His behavior is getting very aggressive with hitting, tantrums, and sleep problems. We want him to feel loved and confident, and I do understand that it's not all his mom's fault, be we don't know what to do. He is so torn with the two ways of living, and I know that his mom will not help with the aggression issues. —Jamie, step-mom

Hang in there. Keep undoing the nonsense to the best of your ability. Put in consistent effort to keep your child's guidance appropriate. Your children will eventually grow up, appreciate the difference in parenting, and realize who they can actually trust and respect. Admittedly, a child will always desperately need the rotten parent's approval and love too. But if your guidance helps them achieve a strong sense of self, they just might learn a healthy balance and attain some peace.

Now, maybe I've gone and insulted you because you think no such thing of your perfectly capable and loving ex. Well, get your panties unbunched. I'm just trying to cover different scenarios here and dole out some sympathy. If your main guilt is simply over being separated from your child, count yourself lucky, because it could be worse. You could be dealing with big booby woman.

Not to say that the rest of us are unsympathetic to your woes. We love you and we're willing to share our chocolate. (Unless, of course, we're pregnant. If that's the case, get your own damn chocolate.) We just want to remind you that if your child is getting good care outside of your arms, try not to fret. Yes, it's awful to give up time with your baby, but consider how much better life is now that you and your ex are separate loaves of bread. For whatever reason, the marriage is quits. Even if you had no fault whatsoever in the process, it's exposed a person that you probably wouldn't want to spend your life with anyway, right?

So take it easy. You are a great parent to appreciate the fact that time with your child is a gift. This fact is often sadly lost on the rest of us who are easily caught up in the mundane. We think our life is poopy and overwhelming because we blew up over our child sneaking an entire bag of marshmallows into his bed. Being able to step back and think twice before yelling over stupid stuff and really appreciating what is a real problem and what is not—that is precious.

Needing Time for Yourself

Now hold on to your britches and don't go postal on me because I suggested something insane. I know you pine about this, girl. Don't even try to lie. You want and need time to yourself and you feel like a traitorous whine-bag for thinking it. Even those of you who sincerely believe you're happy and can handle this parenting business blindfolded, I wonder . . . how many kids do you have? Oh. Just one? Well, okay. Great! You run along now and be your perfect little parenting self. The rest of us sorry ass mommies will watch and take notes.

Those of you who have cranked out a few more kiddies and gotten past the pretentious BS can admit (or constantly gripe) that you're hitting the sauce if you don't get some alone time.

I insist on alone time every day. After dinner is made and cleaned up, I pour myself a glass of champagne and sit on my front steps with no kids allowed. This is my time to relax and reflect on the day. —Denise, mom of two

Champagne! Don't you just love this woman? Down-to-earth (okay, maybe not). Someone we can relate to. (Except for the ability to afford champagne every night.) So unlike those other nutty, hippie chics out there; the ones who easily shoot out six kids in five years and insist they are perfectly happy and don't need one minute for themselves. They also say that your vagina will open up like a flower during childbirth and that it won't hurt a bit if you just set your mind to the right Zen channel. Listen honey, I absolutely love a calming spirit. I respect those of you who refrain from telling the rest of us wimpy, selfish parents that we are lazy losers. But you've got to bellyache a bit to be in this Club.

So we shall ignore those who are not sympatico and continue our whining and begging for advice. Finding time for yourself is a constant struggle, and the more kids you have, the tougher it gets. Do your best to get your children on a strict schedule and discipline program. Then you can at least try to coordinate naps, minimize daytime fussing, and prevent bedtime from being a horrific daily grind.

You can also pay a babysitter, have a family member come and relieve you for a few hours, swap babysitting with a friend, or sign up for a Mom's Day Out program. Just find a way to carve out a few hours a week that is for you and only you. Get away and recharge.

All of this will certainly make your life easier. However, just know that when the doodle bugs are awake and in your care, you are still going to be running your tush off. Life will get easier as they get older, I promise. That is, as long as you don't become their personal maid and act like a push-over sap, letting your kids treat you like dirt. That would be a problem. You'll then be doomed to spend any free time crying about the fruits of your uterus who call you names, spit out your dinner, and ignore polite requests to flush the toilet.

Okay, so that's not so encouraging.

What I mean to say is, take the time now—even though you have precious little of it—to guide your child on how to behave and be independent. Don't let behavior slide because you feel guilty. Then as they age, you will have more and more time to actually enjoy a cup of cappuccino, a chunk of dark chocolate, or watch an entire movie uninterrupted. I haven't actually gotten to this stage yet unless my entire posse is out of the house, but there are blissful occasions. I can actually sit and read for a solid hour with minimal questions about lunch (fix your own), when daddy will be home (I have no idea), what's for dinner (crap, I need to think about that, don't I?) and can we play in the mud (no).

This stage will come for you as well. Some day you will be able to ignore your kids and feel certain that no one will jump off the balcony, pour glue in the dog's ear, or break all the heels on your shoes. You will be worn flat as a pancake by then, but that just means you won't have the energy to celebrate with inappropriate hysteria the first time you're actually free to meet a girlfriend for coffee. That might be embarrassing.

As for feeling guilty for simply wanting time to yourself, I will never, ever allow you to suck that drink dry. Forget it. Gripe and vent all you want, but do not feel guilty for wanting to recharge your battery. Would you give your kid a battery-operated toy with a nearly dead battery? Hell no, you wouldn't. The car wouldn't run and the doll would drone out an evil-sounding waaooooo hooooooo hooooooooo hoooooooooooooooo. As if that wouldn't drive you nuts. You'd replace the darn batteries, right? So what's up with thinking you can give your kids you on nearly drained batteries? That's crazy.

You need and deserve time to yourself to recharge, laugh, sleep, or even take a shower and shave. There are certainly times when it's not in the cards to take a break and we just have to suck it up and deal. And that's fine. We all rise to the occasion. But if there are indulgences available and it's perfectly appropriate to partake, I will never talk you out of it. Go. Paint your toe nails or sip some lemonade or wine in peace. Just make sure to allow yourself five minutes of guilt-free time. Longer than that and our mommy psyches may automatically tip the guilt-o-meter, but five measly minutes is not too much to ask.

Other Considerations

I've tried to touch on as many of the big guilt producers relating to time as possible, based on the feedback I've gotten from parents. However, not all of them could be classified under the most common categories and some were just plain overkill. This one, however, I couldn't resist finding a spot for, so "other considerations" might do for a description. God love her, here's what one woman wrote me:

"I feel guilty for not having my son when I was younger so I'd be alive for more of his life." —Katherine, mom of two

Okay, really? Not one to poke fun at a woman's legitimate worry, but sheesh. This one might call for a group meeting. Now, being a drama and anxiety queen myself, there is generally plenty of sympathy here. But unless you're giving birth at forty-five, we of the Guilt Club are having difficulty feeling your pain. I mean, are your eyebrow hairs turning gray? Do you stoop when you walk? Grunt when getting out of a chair? Can't cut apples due to arthritis?

Honestly, I'm searching here, but coming up empty. Unless you get hit by a bus (which is always a possibility for anyone at anytime) it's safe to assume that you'll be there for both preschool and high school graduation. You'll definitely feel the pain when forced to cut those college checks or foot some of the wedding bill. And it's a fair bet that you won't need cataract surgery by the time you're blessed with a grandchild. Maybe. But possibly not. I think I see some white spots on your iris (gasp!).

Honey, I know this can be serious business. We've all heard the horrific stories of parents dying young. But statistically speaking, you're probably good. Chances are you'll be alive for plenty of his life. Try some friend-therapy or a nice glass of bubbly in your dark moments (which hopefully, aren't many). Relax and enjoy the ride!
Chapter Two: Discipline Is Hell

Oh, dear. Discipline. The #1 bad guy. Discipline stinks and drains the life force right out of your body. It's every day. And nearly every day (or what seems like it), we yell, spank, or admonish. Then the kids cry, fight, and tantrum. Well done, mate! Yeah. Feeling good.

Who among us does not lie in bed at night and berate themself over discipline? Did I do enough? Did I go too far? Was that really necessary? Why does my kid fuss so much? What am I supposed to do?! So let's go through a few of our guilt buttons when it comes to making our kids behave.

Yelling

Honey, we all yell, and that's all there is to it. Rare is the person who maintains their calm and cool at all times. And I'd venture a guess that if you know someone like that, they constantly tow a neutral line, not getting too happy or upset about anything at all, ever. But the rest of us have ups and downs. We get mad. We get excited. We get ticked. Sheesh, girl, when our kid smacks another kid on the head, are we supposed to sit back and say, "Oh honey, now, that wasn't nice"? I mean, really?

Yes, there is a balance to achieve when trying to be firm yet calm, but being a pushover isn't hitting the target. Nor is losing your temper. But are you feeling guilty because you yelled or because you held your ground? Or both?

I have a four-year-old who is out of control. She is very smart but the only time she will listen to me is when I'm very upset and yell. I don't want my child to be scared of me and only listen when I'm mad. —Donna, mom of one

Yelling is the first red-flag indicator that you need to step back and reassess the situation. Are you or your kids tired, stressed, hungry, over-stimulated, distracted, or what? Figure it out and address it. Physical needs are straight-forward enough. Stop and take a deep breath. Then either take care of the physical need or pull it together until you can. Chug some calming tea or even coffee if you've got a long day ahead of you (short-term solution and not the best, but will work in a pinch). Or bite a hole in your lip and do what you must to get your child fed, put to bed, or whatever you need to do. Then take some time to meet your own needs and recharge.

If you're aware that you're yelling because you're tired or in a fight with your spouse, you can wrap your fist around the actual problem. Figuring out the problem is half the battle. The other half is learning to approach your kids in a different way to get a different result.

My child won't listen. He just turned three and is very aggressive. He'll dump everything out of the cabinets or start banging his head on the wall to get out of doing what we ask. We yell sometimes to get him to stop, but I think it frightens him. My sister says you're supposed to talk calmly to a child, but my son just won't listen, so I don't know what to do. —Michelle, mom of three.

In your good moments, understand that yelling does not help. It doesn't help you, and doesn't help your child. What will help are very specific, short, and concise instructions on what you want from your child. Tell them what they should do, not what they shouldn't. For instance, we need to say, "Quiet bottom," instead of "Quit wiggling!" Or, "Walking feet," instead of "Don't run!"

Think about what you want to see from your child, and tell him. If you don't tell and show him, he won't know. And if you keep the directions super short, your child is more likely to understand and not get overloaded. For the toddler variety, especially, they really do try to do what we ask. They just don't understand half the time and get confused. Then we yell because they aren't doing what we want. Useless! So tell them what you want, and be specific. No more "don't do this" and "don't do that." Cut that shit out. It doesn't tell them what you want to see instead. If you keep your directions short and exact, you might get more cooperation.

The other thing to remember about yelling is that, truth be told, most of us get exasperated by our kids, especially if we have toddlers. Admit it, people! Sure, there will always be the mommy who refuses to acknowledge this and scoffs at you for even thinking such a thing. However, since this person will likely lock herself in the closet at some point and have a minor meltdown from stress, I'll be the bad guy for now and speak for the rest of us when I say, "Give me a break." Sorry, we just aren't that perfect.

Most of us can't achieve that pinnacle of parenting, and we need to be able to admit that our toddlers drive us batty. They want your attention at all times, steal toys from other kids, pee all over the floor, throw tantrums, make constant messes, and refuse to go to bed by themselves. We're going to get a little fed up sometimes! Just keep in mind that kiddos have their limitations too. When they're tired, hungry or stressed, you'll have to be more patient. Recognize that and roll with it. Cut yourself some slack if you lose patience, and vow to do better tomorrow.

Start the next day on a schedule. Make sure your child gets food and rest at appropriate intervals. If they're stressed because of a new baby, get them involved. Let them help you feed or burp the little bundle. Kids also love to help with diapers and baths. Give them a safe task like pushing the tab on the diaper or powdering the baby after a bath. Helping out gives children a sense of worth and belonging. It also gives you a chance to give them positive attention. You just have to show your older child how to do everything nicely and provide tons of praise when they comply.

I wouldn't let toddlers do anything with water though. They just might decide to dump it on the baby's head while he's in his swing. I once put my sleeping newborn on a friend's king-size bed, walked out of the room for two minutes, and came back to find my friend's toddler hovering over my baby with a huge cup of water, about to pour it in my infant's mouth and choke her to death. (Guilt #4,103: Why did I leave my baby alone in the middle of a bed at a friend's house? What's wrong with going home and putting her down in her own safe crib? Was I nuts?) So go easy when mixing water with toddlers and babies, but find things to involve big brother or sister in.

I'm of the opinion that yelling is a necessary function of a Mommy. Without our yeller intact, our kiddos could take an accidental dive into a freezing pool or go undeterred for that hot burner. We need those voice boxes fully functional and booming at times. The safety of our kids depends on it! A couple of neighbors and I were chatting one evening in front of my house (right off of a busy street) with seven kids riding bikes and running around. Had I not heard my friend Jill yell at the top of her lungs, "Lindsey! Lindsey, NOOO!" I would never have clued in that her toddler had maneuvered her little bike past a wrought iron gate, down a hill, and straight onto that busy street. My husband Chris (God love that man) took off with the first "Lindsey!" leaving only a football and flying hat in his wake, mom close on his heels. Had my friend been tentative in her yelling, Chris would not have instantly realized the need to intervene. Jill still recalls with relief, "As soon as I saw Chris's bright orange shirt zoom past me, I knew Lindsey would be okay."

So yelling . . . I'm thinking it's a good thing. Not all the time, and not for no reason at all, but we have to make sure our kids listen when we turn it on, right? Kind of like a fire drill. Losing our patience and yelling every so often is good training for that one time when they really, really need you to yell. May sound like a pathetic justification, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it!

My friend Kristy is one of the best disciplinarians I know. She's always good for a story and a laugh, so I was a bit worried when she had some surgery and wasn't her normal zippy self. But then while I was visiting her one night, she happened to notice the dinner dishes weren't done. Her son was upstairs so she gave it a good drawn-out, Shakespearean-worthy holler, "An-drew!? Come-ith down-stairs!" After my laugh, she winked and piped, "Honey, I may be weak, but the yeller still works!"

Seriously, you're a good parent—I'm sure of it. We all slip up and we all have our faults. As long as we put forth a concerted effort to learn from our mistakes and better ourselves, I'm pretty darn sure our kids will forgive us.

Hitting or Spanking

My two-year-old is exhausting me. If we go to the mall, he won't stay with me and runs all over the place. If I try to catch him, he screams bloody murder. When I spank him, it doesn't even faze him. I try to put him in time-out but that doesn't work, either. I'm at my wits end. I want to be a good mom but I've gotten to the point that I just don't know what else to do! —Sheree, mom of one

Okay, no freebies here. It's one thing to spank your kids because they did something wrong and that was the promised consequence (more on that later). It's totally different if you're hitting out of anger. Don't do that. No reason to. If you've done it and you're staring at this page because of it, I'm sure you feel like crap. So we're not going to blather on about it. We're just going to find a solution—which is pretty clear-cut. What's needed is a better way to discipline. Now, I love you and I know you need help right this second, but I'm telling you straight up that the subject is too big to cover in this book. So do some research and find a book on child discipline that best suits your personality. I'd strongly suggest downloading a sample of your top three picks so you can get a feel for the approach and style. Find one you like and try the method. Be consistent!

Listen, most of us who've been around the block have spanked our kids or swatted their hands when they've done something wrong. Sometimes it's a knee-jerk reaction. Do we feel horrible? Yes. But we can't let that guilt paralyze us into doing nothing at all. We still have to discipline. Kids need and want boundaries. Without them, children feel insecure and out of control. That leads to more bad behavior. Hey, your desire to teach your child how to behave is sincere, heartfelt, and appropriate. You just need to go about it a different way to get positive results. So once you get control of your emotions, apologize. Learn from the experience. Nobody's perfect!

Now, if your family uses spanking as a fairly consistent, thoughtful consequence, yet you still feel guilty, assess why. Does the spanking work or not? Are you simply feeling bad because Junior is upset? Figure out the real reason.

Part of being a parent is following through with what we say. If we don't, kids will walk all over us. You might think toddlers are too small to notice that, but oh, honey. Newsflash! They're smart little cookies who figure out our guilt buttons lickity-split. To them, letting consequences slide means, "Cool—she'll let me get away with this one!" But it doesn't actually make kids any happier when they get away with bad behavior. Over the long haul, do you notice any less tears or demands when you give in? Nope. The more you give in, the more they'll demand. Rolling over and giving them what they want just trains them that it's okay to cry, scream, hit and throw tantrums.

It sucks rocks to go through with a consequence and see your child suffer, I know. But we can't always avoid that. Life has hard lessons, and whether we like it or not, our kids will be faced with them at some point. We can't shelter them forever. I don't personally recommend spanking, but if your family employs this discipline, yet the method is eating you alive, remember that there are plenty of older generation adults who were spanked as kids. And I don't see all of them needing therapy. In fact, some of them are pretty darn productive people with a good sense of right and wrong. This is something to consider when you run into those spoiled-as-kids adults. (I'd like to spank them myself.) Anyway, as long as there is no abuse, chances are, your child will be okay. But if you still feel bad, try something different. If spanking is frequent, consider the efficacy. A lot of spanking would indicate the method being ineffective. Or, if the spanking is very infrequent, do you really need to at all, or would another approach work?

Crying

Good gravy, the tears never end. Kids cry for milk, cry over boo-boos, cry when they want something (or when they don't), cry when tired, hungry, ticked, bothered, jealous, overwhelmed, sick, teething, stressed, hot, cold, frustrated, dirty . . . did I leave anything out? Heck, I'm sure I did. But you get the picture. It's really crazy how much they cry, if you sit down and think about it. (Don't.)

Try to remember that toddlers, especially, are uninhibited little beings. They cry over everything that isn't happy, and this leaves a lot of room for crying. But this is a biggie: you cannot let toddler cries mold your discipline decisions. It is all too easy to let crying cloud your judgment. Guilt can really hamper your intention and motivation to do what is best for your child. We range from feeling basic guilt because the kiddo is unhappy to feeling major guilt because we desperately need two minutes of peace and who cares how we get it. But if you consistently change your mind about something simply because you want the crying to stop . . . that's not good.

My five-year-old will get really cranky when she's tired and start crying, yelling, and being disrespectful to me. Nothing I do is right. Even the way I stroke her head to calm her down is wrong. I want to tell her to stop, that her behavior isn't nice, but I know that she's tired and I feel guilty because her schedule is constantly so hectic and I can't always let her nap. So I let it go and don't say anything. But I still get resentful. —Becky, mom of two

Kids don't know what they need. Only what they want. Those two things are worlds apart. So don't give in to a child because they want (or don't want) something and you think it will devastate their world if you don't cave. You need to get over that! They'll live, I promise. If anything, they're unhappy because they need more guidance and firm direction from you. So give it to them! "No" means "no," and "hands to yourself" means "hands to yourself." Period. Make them do what you ask.

I'm taking a wild guess here and assuming you aren't a child beater. I'm sure your requests are quite benign. What you ask them to do is probably something they need to learn eventually, right? So toughen up. Make them do what you ask. The more you follow through with what you say and the more consistent you are with consequences, the less they'll pull that nonsense to begin with.

Crying is also a function of learning. Children are learning how the world works and get ticked off that things don't always go their way. Shoot. I'd be ticked off, too. If I pick up the cat—and just because my chubby little hands don't work quite right—rip off a chunk of fur and get bitten, I'm going to be upset. What the heck? I couldn't help it! You don't have to bite me!

So remember where your child is coming from and take certain cries with a grain of salt. It's not your fault, and they aren't unhappy because you're a bad parent. They're unhappy because they're learning that the world doesn't exactly revolve around them. This is a good life lesson to know, so don't squash it and try to make every little thing all better. Step back and let them figure some things out. If they need a hug, fine. Dole out the comfort. Just don't feel guilty for every little cry. And certainly don't feel guilty if you don't feel guilty. Who has time? Dinner needs to be made, other siblings need help, and you're a great mom. You and I both know it, so chin up and forward ho.

Tantrums

Heaven give me strength. Just say the word tantrum and I get tired. As a parent, you wonder for days if you handled the outburst correctly, did enough, were too harsh, could have avoided it, blah, blah, blah. Fretting over the incident for days, it can tear you to mental shreds, especially if you can't emotionally recover from one tantrum before the next one comes charging in.

I gave my 24 month old daughter red Jello for dessert one day and just because she wanted blue instead, she threw the whole bowl on the floor, breaking my dish. I yelled "no" and put her in time out, but she just cried the entire time. I felt so bad afterward that I held and kissed her for ten minutes telling her I was sorry. A family member told me I probably shouldn't have apologized, but I also know I shouldn't have yelled. —Lisa, mom of two

Tantrums are ugly beasts. There are three kinds of tantrums: need, overload, and demand. Need tantrums occur because the child is hungry or tired. These are easy enough to take care of. Just get your child some food or get them to bed. Overload tantrums are a child's mental toilet overflowing. "I've had enough! Can't take anymore!" So of course you get them out of the mind-boggling situation and get them some calm and quiet, fast. There is no need to punish need or overload tantrums—just teach your child how to get through it.

That leaves demand tantrums. Those are the super bad guys complete with guns, bombs, and light sabers. Kids pull demand tantrums out of their bag of tricks for no reason other than it works. And how!

Demand tantrums ignite a stubborn streak in some parents, making them fight their kids to the bitter end. Other parents give-up and consistently let kids get away with horrible behavior. Finding a middle ground is best. Many times, staying calm and waiting it out is the right thing to do. Then make the child do what you originally asked. Figure out the reason behind the tantrum and make sure little pumpkin poo doesn't get what he wants by throwing a fit. That's his goal, so make sure he gets the opposite. The less you give in, the less they pull this crap because they know it doesn't work.

And here's the clincher: we cannot wallow in guilt over being firm. Oooo-wee. Not good. People, the guilt from tantrums will be the downfall of us all. Don't give in! We are not bad people. We are not bad parents. We give our kids healthy (sort of) meals. We keep them clean. We keep their tootsies warm in the snow. We wipe their noses eighty times a day, and we spend endless weeks of our life making them perfectly potty trained little citizens. So when it comes to demand tantrums, why oh why do we feel so darn guilty? When our kid pitches a fit for chocolate pudding, should we feel bad about this? We put him in time-out. Yes, it worked. Yes, he said he was sorry (in his very toddler-like way). YES, he learned something. Do not undo that great lesson by apologizing for your caring and perfectly reasonable discipline!

Do not constantly second guess whether you were overly harsh. Do not roll over and turn into a pile of mush. When you overdo the making-up part, you reveal your weaknesses to your child. Sorry to say, they'll latch right on to that. Sure as sugary donuts, they'll tap into that guilt to make sure you stay in their room for two hours each night for one-on-one attention before bed. Staying up and playing isn't bad, either. Or ordering a few cocktails. Oh! And maybe asking for a banana. The ol' tummy is growling a bit, you know. That chicken for dinner was rat meat, and if mommy will cave at bedtime and let me delay sleep to feed my starving self, then woohoo! Sweet life.

I don't know how many times I can say this in my lifetime, but do not feel guilty for tantrums! Learn from them, for sure. If you dragged your poor, tired child to the store and she threw a fit and embarrassed the tar out of you, ding, ding, ding! Don't do that again. Figure out how you could have handled it better and do so in the future. Beyond that, shake it off, girl! We've got other stuff to do.

Bribing Your Child to Behave Well

Aha! Caught ya!

Okay, really. Do you seriously think there isn't one parent on the planet who hasn't done this? The kid starts howling in public, so we shove a piece of candy their way to buy two minutes of conversation with a doctor about our dreadfully painful I'm-gonna-die urinary tract infection.

Honey, I'm all about discipline and not making this a habit, but I'm also a realistic chic. It's going to happen. We're going to give in, and with any luck, we'll get that two minutes of peace we were aiming for. Sure, there's a price to pay, but that's true of everything. Next time they'll howl a little longer since they know we're capable of caving. But if you tell 'em tough noogies—and stick with it—they'll eventually get over it.

Unless you bribe your child all the livelong day, I simply cannot allow you to wallow in misery on this one. We are all human. We get tired, sick, exasperated, and stressed. Children think their stresses are the end of the world, but ours are pretty darn important, too. We're talking husband-is-going-to-divorce-me stress versus can't-find-my-binky stress. Hhmm. Wonder which should be prioritized.

You are important too. You have needs, passions, and limitations. It's no small feat juggling kids, work, house, and all the little fireballs life throws at us. And if you're reading a book like this, it's pretty safe to assume you're a fantastic caregiver, always trying to better yourself and your parenting skills. So bribing is okay. (Oh, hell. I've gone and said it.) It's okay to indulge the nonsense here and there if your sanity is at stake. We of the Guilt Club simply cannot have our girlfriends losing their marbles! You have the official permission of all the sympathetic parents of the world to give that child a sucker, let her have popcorn for dinner, or offer a cookie in exchange for quiet. If you need that five minutes of peace more than life itself, go for it. We won't tell on you.

Now, if you'd like a little help on how to bribe less while making sure your child doesn't cry more, we're good for that here. Preparation is the key. Not always feasible when we're miserably chucking up lunch due to a sweet little bambino growing in our belly, but do-able on most days. Instead of waiting for bad behavior to crop up, try to anticipate and avoid it. For younger children, keep them busy with structured activities. For instance, before you make that phone call for the interview of your life, have plenty of activities lined up to shove in front of your 18-month-old. Be ready for him to demand attention right when you're trying to explain that you'll be thoroughly dedicated to your prospective job. Alternatively, for a toddler who understands the concept of do-this-and-you'll-get-X, offer a reward for good behavior. Explain beforehand that you need to make a call. Offer some activities and tell him you'll be busy for a few minutes, and if he stays quiet, he'll get to help you make apple pie for tonight's dessert.

I'm not a fan of using food as a reward, especially highly processed or sugary foods; I believe they can lead to deplorable behavior. Useful alternative rewards include non-food tangible items (stickers or books), privileges (TV for an extra thirty minutes), and social activities (getting to invite a friend over). As long as you use what motivates your child, they are often all too happy to comply. Just make sure you don't spoil the tar out of them on a regular basis. If they're always getting what they want anyway, rewards are meaningless.

Bedtime Battles: Getting Kids to Sleep

My child is almost two and he is so difficult. Naps are impossible. I feel like I have to hold him down to get him to take a nap. It's a struggle to get him to sleep, even at night. He will not sleep in his own bed and refuses to go to sleep without a huge fight. He is exhausting and acts this way all the time, day after day. I'm so tired and feel like everyone is looking at me. —Rhonna, mom of one

Sweet Mother of Pearl, here we go with bedtime battles—the bane of our existence. Feeling guilty about your child's cries and wasting hours and hours begging them to go to sleep . . . well, the president of this Guilt Club calls that a no-no. This can cause a tremendously unhealthy cycle of sleep deprivation for everyone involved. It's worse than a nightmare. At least with a nightmare, you're actually sleeping!

Here's my advice: teach your child healthy sleep habits. If you're already into bad sleep habits, expect a battle. But overcoming this hurdle will improve everyone's emotional and physical health. Clear boundaries lead to happier, more secure, well-rested and well-behaved children.

I don't know where to begin. My son hits everyone, pulls hair, bites, screams at the top of his lungs, pinches, rips toys out of other kids' hands, and is mean to his brother. I can't take him anywhere. He refuses to sit in a grocery cart and tries to pull everything off the shelves at the store. During mealtimes, he throws his food and won't eat. He will not take a nap no matter what I do, and won't go to bed at night. When he does finally go down, he even screams in his sleep. Crying has become my only outlet lately. —Kimberli, mom of two

Kids who don't sleep well at night don't behave well during the day. Same goes for you, too, right? We're just big people who have learned not to bite others when we're exhausted, can't see straight, and can't fathom why hubby ate our donut. (Hubby eating the last powdered donut has caused some hairy fights in this house, but I'm proud to say, I've never bit him.)

The battle to get your child into healthy sleep habits is a huge guilt producer in and of itself. Not going to lie to you here: it's awful. But if you're already feeling awful, there's nothing to lose. Besides, would you rather keep fighting every night with no happy goal in sight at all, staring at this same scenario for your foreseeable future? With a plan, there is at least a foreseen end. It might take some hefty battles upfront, but if you can overcome, the other side is quite glorious.

You really have to look at the big picture. If you're willing to, let your children cry at night in order to teach them how to comfort themselves to sleep. They don't pop out knowing how—we have to teach them. Some kids take to the routine much better than others. If you have a child who needs a good deal of comfort, crying is usually part of the process. It's terrible, I know! Makes you want to roll over and die—unless, of course, you're so worn out that you can't take anymore. If you get to this point, there may be some healthy determination in you yet!

It's up to you how much guilt you can handle in chunks like this. You can go cold turkey and tough it out longer than they're willing to cry, or you can sit in their room with them and "be there" without giving any attention at all; no talking, no eye contact, no touching. The hope with this method is that they'll learn that you turn off the guilt machine at night, so they have no more buttons to push. It also lets you feel confident they aren't dying of thirst, frostbite, hunger, or a poopy diaper. But either way, they're going to scream for you to rescue them, and when you don't, they'll kick it up a notch. This is super guilt producing, so hang tight!

Alternatively, you can find a different way to accomplish the same goal. If you need more help with step-by-step methods, research it. Whatever you do, be consistent! Find a technique that suits you and stick it out. Remember that your child keeps a running tab of how long it takes you to cave. If you try something and give up, it's that much harder to try again later. Now, sometimes you figure out that the torture is too much and simply not worth it. That's fine. Just don't expect Junior to be gung ho when you get a bee in your bonnet to try another method. The less consistent you are with whatever you choose to do, the more confusing it is to your child.

When all is said and done, please keep in mind that children are mighty resilient. I guarantee it's much worse for you than for them. They just want what they want and do what they need to get it. But you are the adult and you know what they need. There are definitely considerations with how best to teach individual personalities to get healthy sleep. But don't let your kids guilt you out of doing what's best for them. Balance how much guilt you can take with your goal for their sleep habits. Figure it out and go! We're right behind you, cheering you on!

Co-Sleeping

Okay, here we go. I'm about to admit my hypocrisy to the world. In Life with Toddlers and Toddler ABC Guide to Discipline, I go on and on about how co-sleeping denies your child healthy sleep habits. I tried to be fair because some people really believe in it, and it's cool if you do. But for those that co-sleep out of defeat, I let them have it. In no uncertain terms I yell, "Cut that crap out!" You need your sleep, your child needs their sleep, and if no one is getting it, what the hell is the point? From day one I had my newborns on a strict Baby Wise (Gary Ezzo and Robert Bucknam) eat-play-sleep schedule, keeping the cry-it-out nonsense to a minimum. Consequently, my kids were well rested (except for illness, storms, teething, binky breaking, bottle weaning, potty training, and everything else that keeps you up all night). But skip ahead seven years, and we are, in at least some respect, co-sleepers.

Oh my, how I loathe to admit that. But here's the thing: it's more like nomadic sleeping. We do sleep together, but it's usually based on snoring issues or an attempt to save money by not heating or cooling the upstairs. We are constantly mixing up where we sleep, but once decided, my kids really do sleep well. They do their little nighttime routine, they don't fight going to sleep, and they make sound decisions on how much sleep they need. That initial training as babies taught them how to comfort themselves to sleep. And they slept alone for many years. So our co-sleep/nomadic habits are not a result of our children's manipulation, and we draw the line when it interferes with another family member's sleep. But overall, I'm not the same sleep-in-your-own-bed snob I used to be.

My third child never did embrace sleeping alone with much enthusiasm. She didn't fight it and always got herself to sleep well, but as soon as she could crawl out of her crib, we'd find her curled up in a ball in our bedroom doorway in the morning. Or bundled up on our bedroom chair. She never bothered us with climbing in bed, but she needed to be in the same room with another person. That was her comfort zone and still is to this day.

When you first have kids, you get super idealistic views on how you will parent—and you may actually keep up in the beginning, confirming your awesome parenting skills. You shake your head in disgust at people like me who blurt to the world the woes of pregnancy and raising kids. You've got it figured out and the rest of us are bozos who simply like the drama and attention and seem to overlook the wonder and blessings. "Suck it up and deal," you think.

But as you become a veteran, things slide. Your decisions are influenced not by objective considerations but by the need to get through the freaking day. My friend Jen, perfect stinking mother that she is, finally had a second child and has been adjusting to keeping her budding preschool genius stimulated while chasing a baby that has no shut-off button. She just deliciously admitted to me that she ran out of bottles a few weeks ago, so she stuck the last used one in the fridge justifying that the cold would keep the germs from growing and she could forgo washing and re-use it in a few hours. (She later wrote that her dishwasher miraculously got turned on that day so I didn't need to rat her out to Child Protective Services after all.) This is a woman who passed the bar exam with one hand tied behind her back, has a very formal white-couch-in-the-family-room kind of house, and she and her husband dressed up as Princess Leia and Han Solo for Halloween. The girl's got her shit together! But in the same conversation, after I complimented her on her family Christmas photo, she told me that was one of the two days this year that she actually brushed her hair.

So guilt over co-sleeping? I'm thinking we have better stuff to worry about. That said, I would still recommend getting the itty bitties into their own bed so they can start good habits in getting themselves to sleep. If the co-sleeping is more about your need to cuddle or know that they're still breathing (versus their howling need to be near you), whatever. See a therapist or jolly in your need for control. We don't care. If you feel good that you and your family gets enough sleep, then you'll get no finger-shaking and frowns from the Guilt Club.

However, if you've got a kid that refuses to sleep at all without two hours of snuggling, four drinks, eight books, and endless screams for your attention, then wake up and smell the coffee. This is called "outright manipulation" and pisses off your friends here who would like to see you get a smidgen of respect. Your little gladiator is wielding guilt as a weapon, and you need to put on a helmet and get into the fight. You're bigger. You can win. The problem is, your heart is bigger too, and you let that little thing called guilt get in the way of what you know is best. Tsk, tsk, my friend! You are a great mommy. Get over it. Teach your child how to fall asleep without you (there are books on this, honey) and demand your own decent shut-eye. Otherwise, don't call an emergency Guilt Club meeting when you're in the psych ward at your local hospital. We don't go to places where people chew on their checkers and mumble nonsensical rants eight hours a day because they haven't gotten any sleep.

Lying

Perhaps it's because I'm such a discipline witch, but kids don't try to lie to me. Much. They must see the broomstick peeking out behind my bum and think twice. However, when it does happen (usually when I'm substitute teaching), I call them on it early and often. As a teacher, my initial response to lying is one of complete confusion. Why on earth do you feel the need to lie over something stupid? Because you're going to get into trouble? Child, if I find out you're lying, you don't know the meaning of the word trouble.

My take on this as a parent is that lying is absolutely unacceptable—and you shouldn't feel guilty for giving consequences. You are a great caregiver. How dare they put you in the position to question your discipline decisions! You feed them; take them to school; keep them from killing or hurting themselves eight times a day; buy them toys, gadgets, furniture, food, and everything else they ask for. They have no freaking idea how good they've got it. Yet they yammer tall tales and make you crazy with worry that you didn't do enough, didn't do the right thing, aren't getting through to them, or are possibly even being too harsh. Nonsense!

I manage to stay politically correct when my friends come to me in a quandary over their kids' lying. But if it were my own kid, the hammer would come down. No more Mr. Nice Guy. Our kids have so much shit to play with, how easy is it to take away TV, games, phone, friends and whatever else they waste time doing? Making them actually do chores and try to use their brains instead of staring at a screen all day seems a rather minor thing.

You may not get huffy like me, but whatever your emotions, put them aside and look at the big picture. Why are they lying? And why in heaven's name do we feel guilty about it? Sometimes we catch them red-handed and we still feel bad about punishing them! What is that about?! Did you clean your room? "Yes, mom." Are you sure you cleaned your room? (exasperated) "Yes, mom." Okay, if I go up there and check, am I going to be upset? (frustrated and clearly offended) "Mom! I cleaned my room! I swear! Stop bugging me about it!" Then you stroll into their room to check and . . . holy moly. Not one little piece of clothing has been moved off the floor. It still looks exactly like a burglar was digging for the lost city of gold right there in that room. And when you turn around to stare at them with bewilderment, they just shrug, "Sorry. I didn't feel like it."

OH MY GOSH. You didn't feel like it? But you felt perfectly happy lying through your teeth when you knew full well I'd march right into your room and check? What dial is your brain set to? What type of beans are rattling around in your head? And what is going on? Why lie about something so stupid?

So then you yell, punish, get nowhere, and start all over again the next day. But eventually you begin to question—not your child being disrespectful and ungrateful—but your own judgment. Maybe she just misunderstood. Maybe I should have given her more time. Maybe this is just because she's a pre-teen and I should cut her some slack. I mean, why can't she live in a messy room? Mold, dirt, rotting food, roaches, no sense of responsibility . . . is it really so important?

Honey, there are not many times that I'm nearly speechless, but if you continue to feel guilty because your kids are lying to you, I just . . . oh good grief.

So okay, if guilt insists you continue to be a ninny, let's approach this from a different angle. Look at why your child is lying. There's got to be a reason. Are they seeking more (or less) attention? Do they have communication difficulties—preferring to brood, yell, or stomp off in anger? Or maybe you're a wee bit of a pushover and let them get away with murder? Whatever it is, figure it out.

In my friend Rachel's case, her pre-teen daughter Emma was lying about teeny tiny stuff out of sheer posturing. Rachel would ask if such and such was clean, and for some reason, this would set Emma off and put her on defense. Anticipating a lie, Rachel would see red and ramp up the offense. So there they were, two bucks about to clash antlers. One stands up straight, so the other stands up straighter. One bends her head forward to strike and the other mirrors. It was simply a power struggle stacked on the child's need to feel autonomous. The kid never lied at school or to friends, teachers, or other family members. It was just to mom and just over cleaning.

This brings us to punishment. How did Rachel react? Well, she did what any other parent on the planet would do. She took away allowance. "Does Emma care?" I asked. "Not a bit!" Rachel snapped. "Then why are you still doing that?" I counter. "I don't know!" she wailed. So I took my friend by the hand and yanked her back a couple of steps, reminding her to look at it objectively. First, she had to change what she was doing. It was a simple power struggle and she got sucked right in every time. She needed to cut it out and stop trying to tower over Emma. Give the girl some breathing room and opportunity to make a better choice—not because she'd get in trouble if she didn't—but because telling the truth is the right and better thing to do.

Second, Rachel needed to change the dynamic. By challenging Emma, Rachel was giving her daughter an open invitation to fib. You can turn that around by taking away the opportunity to lie. Instead, Rachel needed to focus on providing consequences for the underlying behavior: cleaning. Giving her daughter the opportunity for a positive consequence to getting her chores complete is a better alternative than solely a negative consequence if she doesn't get her work done.

So Rachel decided to key in on something Emma really wants and enjoys: books. Instead of so much allowance, she made it a book reward instead. She set up the rules ahead of time and said, "You have to clean your room and bathroom every Friday. I'll check it at 6:00. If you've gotten it done, we'll go get you a book. If it's not done, you pay me since I have to clean it—and I'm more expensive than you, so keep that in mind." This eliminates the "did you clean it yet or did you not?" argument. She simplified the rules and clearly laid out the consequences to getting the work done or not getting the work done.

I told Rachel this was a great plan but to expect some posturing here and there as her daughter tested the waters. It might work great the first two weeks, then flop the next. She shouldn't get discouraged. That behavior would just be some tentacles feeling around to see what will happen. Rachel should stay matter of fact and not get ramped up. She must make Emma pay her as discussed, but if Emma continually refuses to clean and runs out of money, she's got another problem to think about. Because in that house, the only way to earn money is to work. If you owe mom money, there's no fun until the piper is paid. No friends, no games, no computer, no nothing. Sucky long-term consequence.

When kids lie, you've got to make it about them. They need to understand that they won't benefit from the fibs. They have a choice to make. If they choose poorly, the consequence is not fun. Don't let tears and apologies push your guilt buttons. To you, the button says "guilt." To your kid, the button says, "sucker." Call a spade a spade here, people. Tears and apologies mean you've probably hit the right consequence and it's a bit painful for your child. But it's supposed to be! Don't roll over and stick your paws in the air. You're making a point, and if you back down, the point has no effect.

Stop wasting your time on guilt over your child lying. In fact, if it were me, I'd make the punishment a big mental and physical challenge. (No, that doesn't mean beating them!) Put their sorry butts to work. Think about what they enjoy doing, and take every bit of it away. Then make them clean the whole dang house and dig trenches for the new sprinkler system. If you feel guilty just thinking about doing that, then your guilt over making them clean their room should be dwarfed. So hold your ground and remember that they're lucky; your parenting isn't half as mean as mine!

Chapter Three: Crappy Nutrition

As new parents, we are prepared for the food journey. We have read every book we can get our hands on, stocked the fridge with healthy casseroles for ourselves, and lined up all of our breast pump paraphernalia, bottles, formula, and sterilizing kits. Then baby comes. We're on that baby high. We can do this! Haven't slept more than twelve hours in the past week, but wow—everything seems okay. Haven't gone psycho yet. This is good!

We're on a Roll! Or Rather, We Were on a Roll

Then the baby-high hormones slowly wear off. The casseroles get eaten. Nipples get raw. Hair gets greasy. And we get into our baby groove. Eventually we figure it out enough to keep ourselves (relatively) clean and functioning with three hours of sleep a night. We nourish ourselves only with whatever peanut butter we can scrape out of the container, but by golly, that baby is fed and fed well!

When they get to munching age, we get so excited that we nearly pee our pants. Off we run to stock up on biter biscuits and veggie crunches. We peruse the aisles delighting in all the different flavors of baby food. Ham with apples. Carrots and beef. Oooh, pot roast! Turkey and wild rice. Wait a sec. Pureed strawberries and granola, butternut squash, apple vanilla mixed grains, herbed chicken with pasta. Good grief. And you can get veggies and fruit in crunchies, dices, puffs, melts, grabbers, or squeezable packs! To top it all off, there's absolutely, positively no artificial flavors, colors, preservatives, added salt, starch, sugar, or genetically-engineered ingredients. You can even get vegan, kosher, or wheat-free.

Holy crow. One could go nuts with glee. How awesome is this?! So we ignore the price tag and stock up, determined to feed our child nothing but the best. No guilt here! Until hubby sees the grocery bill. Then there's guilt. Lots. Easily justifiable, though. This is our child we're talking about. We nourish them with the best, and that's all there is to it.

Until you're broke.

So okay, we've got to figure out a way to save money on food. Wait, I've got it! Invest in a cute toddler cookbook and do it myself! Can't be that hard, right? I can make multiple meals or puree several cups of veggies in advance then freeze them in ice cube trays for easy single-serve reheating. Genuis!

Two weeks later dawn breaks. Damn, this food prep gets old quick. So here we go with more guilt because we are too lazy to keep it up. I mean, tree-hugger Kim down the street keeps it up. Why can't I? Maybe it's lack of variety. We flip through our toddler cookbooks and quickly dismiss half the recipes because they call for stuff that we've never even heard of or that just sounds disgusting. Muesli. Hummus. Tofu. Alfalfa, bio-yogurt, garam masala, parsnip, celeriac, mange-tout, leeks, elderflower, mackerel? Oh my gosh. Mackerel? Are you kidding? Oh, and here's an ingredient that's readily available in my fridge and I'm sure the kid will love: radish. Seriously, people. When was the last time you ever even tasted a radish, much less paid real money for one?

So we've made all the recipes we can handle in this cookbook, and now we're out of ideas again. Dang. In the meantime, we haven't really made a dent in the grocery bill because buying ingredients is expensive. And to top that nonsense off, we look in the mirror and we're getting fat. "Getting" is relative because the baby fat refused to fully vacate the building in the first place, but now there's rolls. Great balls of fire. Fat rolls! How did that happen? We don't even have time to eat. So freaking unfair.

So while we may have talked ourselves out of feeling guilty for stopping our healthy food kick, now we feel guilty because we're (bleeping) fat. This never ends.

Fast Food

So where does all this leave us? With finding a cheaper, faster way to eat, that's where. And you get to thinking. Fries are a vegetable, right? They're soft. An easy first food. So we succumb. We give our child their first french fry. And it's all downhill from there. The guilt lasts throughout the day, and we may reflect on it again the next. But we quickly run into our same problem: we don't have time to cook or shop. So it's more fast food.

Then the one night we actually stick some frozen chicken in the oven and microwave some broccoli, Junior refuses to eat anything but a hamburger. So we get a bee in our bonnet. That's it! No more! For the next three days we force ourselves to drive right past that delicious smell of greasy beef to rummage through our freezer for the last box of fish sticks and bag of brussel sprouts. (Who on earth bought those? Yelch.)

The next week is rife with fights, screams, cries, and refusals to eat. Oh good gravy, what have we done? Now we feel guilty for putting our child through this. He's miserable. Can't eat green. Maybe he's allergic! Isn't there a single company on this planet that makes a donut with a tiny bit of spinach in it? The kid's bowels are going to stop working if I don't get some fiber in there!

And so ensues our constant battle with fast food. We love it, we hate it. It's easy, it's cheap. It's unhealthy, it's evil.

Honey, I am a total and complete food Nazi. Well, in theory, anyway. Because I'm also a do-as-I-say-and-not-as-I-do kind of person. Roughly translated, this means I strongly believe that crappy food leads to crappy behavior and health. But I don't always strictly follow through on this belief. There was a time in early parenthood when a bag of chips in our pantry meant we were having a party. Now if there's not a bag (and a backup bag as well) we all let out a collective, "Aaawww, man! We're out of chips!" We won't complain too much or die of starvation, but we're just a hair cranky for the rest of the day.

Hiding the Green (and Lying Our Butt Cheeks Off)

When my kids were really little, I would try to hide veggies in anything! Grated veggies work in so many sauces, breads, etc. Now when I try to do that my pickiest eater will dissect his food and ask me what every little speck is! —Jessica, mom of three

We've all done it. Even though Thou Shalt Not Lie is a biggie, I have to go with venial sin on this one and ask for forgiveness later. It's for the good of everyone, right? Certainly doesn't hurt anyone and takes care of their little body temples, yes? We'll have a talk with St. Peter when and if we ever make it to the Pearly Gates. Maybe he'll understand. We'll conjure up a picture (you can do those things when you're dead, right?) of our sweet baby's colon and show him how great it looks. Just look, St. Peter—his intestines are so clean! No gunk, no build up, nothing stuck in his bowels! Don't we get some points for that?

My friend Jen is the queen liar, but boy, the results are astonishing. We could all learn a thing or two from her trade. She's been embellishing the same food lie for years now and her four-year-old figured it out only last week.

At first Jen's son liked only the basic chicken-and-carrots baby food mash. Jen finally got him to try an organic level-three jarred baby food mix of spinach, peas, soybeans, zucchini, broccoli, and who knows what all else by convincing him that the goop was "green chicken in a jar." (Lie #1) He tried it, liked it, and soon demanded it every day, prompting her to bask in her awesomeness and do a Snoopy-like happy dance. Over two years later, he asked why there was a baby on the jar. She explained, "Oh, that baby must live on that farm. You can tell it's not for babies because there's a '3' on the jar. You have to be at least three to eat this. A baby would choke on it." (Lies #2-4)

In the meantime, she had to ward off the cashiers in the grocery store who would smile kindly and ask if she had a baby at home. She'd sneak a quick glance at her son then glare and smile through clenched teeth, "That's not baby food." (Lie #5) And she pulled the same tight-jaw-squinty-eyes-death-warning when grandpa threatened to announce that big boys shouldn't eat such nonsense.

Eventually, baby number two came along and started eating the same thing. Since Jen's son is no dummy and will surely be elected president in thirty years, he figured it out and gave her one last chance to fess up. And did she do so? Nope. She tried to give the baby different food varieties and convince him that his jar of green pottage was different. And so we have Lie #6. Her cutie pie never actually outright called dear mommy a fraud, but he did refuse to eat it anymore. So now she has to figure out a way to introduce the real stuff and get him to actually use his full set of teeth and chew it. Yikes.

My friend and little love bunches. We of the Guilt Club will never, ever admonish you for lying your tail off in an effort to sneak green food into your kid's belly. And the reason we won't shake fingers is that we don't allow food snots into our club. Those mommies who snub us, insisting they started out strong with green pureed nasty-smelling shit and kept it up until their child ate salad with every meal . . . well, they aren't members of this organization. So no worries. You continue to do your best to blend broccoli and stick it in brownies, grate zucchini and swear it's spaghetti, and puree soybeans, calling it green chicken. We honor your bravery, creativity, and determination. In fact, we are thrilled that there is one less constipated child in the world. What a beautiful thing.

Please Just Eat Something! Refusals to Chew

But my kid. Won't. Eat!

I hear it constantly. And now my kids and their friends are getting older, so I see it constantly, too. Milk has to be chocolate or it's a no-go. (A very popular sentiment among kids.) Wow, no, I don't eat anything with foreign sauce, thank you anyway. Oh, and I have to have chips first before I eat my sandwich. Speaking of, what are you doing putting jelly on that peanut butter sandwich? Eeeewww! No way. No fruit. Of any kind. Ever. And I don't drink water; my drinks have to have some flavor in them, like Coke.

Refusals to eat of any kind are a parental aggravation and one that many of us snooty moms can't comprehend. I don't even get why a dog refuses to eat. I mean, it's a dog. Granted, I wouldn't eat dog food either, but most dogs seem to think it's dandy.

I used to work at a veterinary clinic in my college days. One particularly ludicrous owner would send in cheeseburgers and fries for her dog whenever the pooch had to stay the day for tests. Obviously the dog had some sort of chronic illness that I can't recall, but he looked alert and healthy to me. Never could understand it. And that little doggy never once ate so much as one bite of that food. I think the owner fed it caviar so I'm sure a burger looked like cat poop to that spoiled rotten thing. The vet I worked for would simply go in the back, pop open a can of yummy dog mush, and poochy-poo would eat just fine.

My friend Amanda does nearly the same thing: hand feeds one of her dogs each morning because he turns his nose up at food. She's up at five a.m. every single morning so she can give herself forty minutes to sit on her living room floor and hand feed this not-exactly-skinny pup one little kibble at a time. This is a woman who is so busy that she's never even heard of a vacation day, yet she spends twenty hours a month hand feeding this dog that could definitely go a day or two without eating. You can bet my big mouth called her on it. She defensively insisted that his particular breed has been known to starve to death because they simply won't eat. I just blinked at her. Dumbfounded. Say what? A dog will starve themselves to death just ...because? I have yet to find supportive research to this claim, but I'll keep my mouth shut because I happen to love my friend. But whatever.

My oldest kid's best friend is a picky eater. I mean, really picky. I've never seen the child eat anything other than bread with salt, bacon, pretzels, and candy. At first I scoffed. What? Oh, child, you'll eat when you're hungry, and you'll eat what I put in front of you, I'm sure of it. But then I was an actual witness. The kid spent the night with us and didn't eat for twenty-four hours. She didn't look like she was shriveling up or weak or anything, so at first I let it go. Then after eight hours, I'm texting her mom for advice. Mom's all casual. Oh, she'll be fine. She's just shy.

What?! Shy? Are you joking? The kid's getting dehydrated because she's shy? Oh good grief. However, not being one to cave to a kid's ridiculous habits just because they are guests, I had no other choice and let it go some more. But by the next morning, I'm in a panic and jump into my car, racing out to get the kid bacon and pretzels just so she doesn't die on my watch.

And then it's time to reflect. Just how did I get to this point, wringing my hands and acting so stupid over refusals to eat? Me. The one who doesn't let kids get away with jack-diddly? The one who says, hold your ground, don't give in, don't feel guilty! All a little girl has to do is be sweet and kindly refuse to eat or drink anything for one measly day and I'm a ball of mush. Bacon? Oh, here honey! Salt on your bread? Here's the shaker, sweet pea! And I got you regular pretzels, sticks, and twists, so take your pick. I'll put them all out for you and go away so you don't have to eat in front of me. Oh, and is a regular bowl okay or would you like me to get out my Wedgwood?

I swear, if she had confided in me that her dog refused to eat as well, I'd have rushed to the store that instant to find some nice, juicy steak. Her dog is the cutest, sweetest, most hilarious dachshund on the planet and by golly if the dog wants steak, I'm on it! So let's define "hypocrite." Definition: Me. Charlatan, loser, sap, snob-that-learned-a-lesson. Yep. Moi.

The first time our little babies turn their noses up at something we've offered, we laugh and think it's adorable. We enjoy this form of entertainment for a week or two until we figure out that they won't eat much of anything that isn't sweet or horribly unhealthy. Then we get nervous. We read, we research, we call the doctor. They say don't worry, your child will come around. We feel reassured, relax, keep offering the food, and keep getting rejected. Then we feel like a schmuck for not being more creative. So we kick it up a notch and do all but dance a jig to get our child to eat something green. And it still doesn't work.

In the meantime, we notice that our kid continues to run and scream and has plenty of energy to drive us to exhaustion. Maybe we can let up a bit. Maybe green isn't really necessary. Maybe our kid will be just fine without it. Six years later, we confess to our friend that our child has eaten nothing but PB & J for lunch since he was two, and now some kid in his class has a nut allergy, and OHMYGOSH, we're not allowed to pack peanut butter anymore! This quandary is enough to call in reinforcements and several psychologists, so much is the stress.

Throw in a Medical Diagnosis, Please

Most of the time, our kids' refusals to eat stem from our being saps and not making them eat what's in front of them or nothing at all. We really don't have the energy to fight them and, in most cases, don't see long term enough to care. I gave my first child only apple pear puree when she was a toddler, and now she won't touch other fruits at all. Apples. That's it. Period. All other fruits have a creepy texture and are equivalent to liver on a stick. Why the hell didn't I put a freaking banana on her tray every once in a while? A slice of peach? A blueberry? What was wrong with me that I couldn't see how this would affect her long term? She's now a pre-teen and literally gags when you force her to eat so much as a tiny bite of cherry. It's absolutely pathetic.

But here's your next guilt-producing food horror:

My son has diabetes and I would sooo love to do the eat-this-or-starve method, but I can't. I hate it!

A medical diagnosis affecting our already fragile food problems; just great! Lovely! Nut allergy. Diabetes. Lactose intolerance. Holy guacamole. The food aversion of my daughter's friend started with a lactose intolerance diagnosis as a baby. Top that with her shy thing (her mom would drop her off at preschool and the kid refused to eat or drink anything at all the entire day) and you've got a parent who has to throw their hands up and do what they can. It's one thing to throw fits over food. It's entirely another when they calmly refuse to eat. That's enough to pop an aneurysm.

So when you toss in the possibility of coma and death with diabetes, well, forget it. Kid rules. That's all there is to it.

Diabetes requires me to act as my son's pancreas on a daily basis. I have to count his carbs and decide how much insulin to give him based on the carbs, his activity level, any illness, etc. It's basically a throw at a dart board with several chances to screw it up every day. If I aim too low he can faint, have a seizure, or die, although that's unlikely. If I aim too high, he could also end up with seizures or dead, although that's even less likely. But over the long term, high blood sugar also increases his chances of going blind, having kidney problems or heart disease, or developing other problems later in life. I can keep his blood sugar under tighter control if I test it more often, hook medical gadgets up to him, or make his schedule more rigid. I can keep him safer on a daily basis if I let him do less (like keep him out of preschool). All these things involve trade-offs, so I find a balance I can live with. For me, I couldn't live with him having a bad complication later in life and thinking that it's my fault for not taking better care of him now. I also couldn't live with keeping him out of school or other activities.

However, my own selfish interests come in too. For example, several parents I know wake up several times each night to test their child's blood sugar. I don't do that on a nightly basis because I don't think we've absolutely needed to and because I don't want to interrupt my child's sleep. But also, I personally really don't want to get up several times a night either. On things like this it's not always easy to tell how much my own wants enter in. I try to be honest with myself and do my best. It wouldn't be great for my child to have a grumpy mom every day, right? I deal with the potential guilt by trying really, really hard and then being forgiving with myself. —Heather, mom of two

Wow. Some people don't even have the choice to be a mush. Or to be firm. Where do you begin? If by some miracle you can get them to eat one vegetable day after day, do you attempt to widen the variety or forgo rocking the boat? Man. I'm glad I'm here for support only. Finding answers would be a mess! (Yes, I realize this is a big, fat cop-out. I own it. Don't hate me. I give free hugs and chocolate. Not a bad person in the grand scheme of things.)

Who Gives Up? I Do, I Do!

All in all, we do have some choices, and I guess we have to roll with that and do our best. As my friend Debra puts it:

I can't control what my child eats, but I can control what I make.

She claims no guilt whatsoever (ah, to be in that happy place!) and simply tells her daughter to eat her vegetables first, then she can fill up on whatever else she wants.

She's not picky at all and makes better food choices than my husband and me, which is sad if you think about it! She eats everything from cheeseburgers to red snapper and escargot.

Hunh. Escargot. Are you supposed to actually bite into escargot, or just let it slime down your throat like an oyster? You know, my husband is big on the green drinks and shakes. He makes them fun and tasty for the kids, and will even sometimes power juice straight spinach and broccoli. I manage to choke it down in an effort to save my colon from cancer. But escargot? Might draw the line there.
Chapter Four: I'm a Horrible Parent!

Our Mood, Actions, and Reactions

We had a bad day, so we lose our temper and yell. Wait. We lose our temper and yell nearly every day. Does that mean every day is bad, or are we just a bad person? Oooooh, the guilt!

How many times do we suck in air because our child pops off and sounds just like us behaving badly? What happened to the role model? What happened to the perfect mommy who teaches her child how to deal with upset, anger, frustration, and sadness? When big brother admonishes baby sister with "hush!" who do you think feels like rolling over and dying of shame? Us! The horrible parents!

Our Mood:

Of course we'd all like to think we're happy, cheerful, well-rested sociable people. We put on a good face at work (most of the time). People don't call us "witch" and "pit bull" to our faces. We're nice. We send cards to our family members on their birthdays. (Or rather, you might. I'm terrible with birthdays and if I remember anyone in my family, someone else has to break out the paddles and zap some electricity into them because they've fallen over dead in disbelief.)

So to think that we sometimes treat our sweet little babies with less than kindness is a kick in the keister. You know what I mean. We've all seen the parent who smacks their kid in the store or who gets wild eyes and snarls at their child with not a care in the world as to who is watching. You'd like to wrap that kid up in a big hug and tell them it's going to be okay. But you can't. You are powerless and must watch with horror as yet another child's heart is ripped apart. To be sure, those are the times that we turn to our own child and hold them tight, whispering our love in their ear.

But then we get back home, swing into our routine, and get slapped with back talk or a sassy mouth. So we pop off right back. The horrifying thing about this is, if we were to watch ourselves on video, we'd see that tyrant mom in the store. We'd watch in disbelief and realize that we are no different than the mom who lost control and treated her child like crap. And the awful thing is that we absolutely know we shouldn't act like that. We don't do it in public. We hold our tongue and control our anger when friends or neighbors are watching. We might be forced to let the behavior slide and to look like a doormat for not showing some discipline, but that's better than the alternative. We can't look like a bad mom! So we only do the bad mom thing in private.

This is a stinker of a problem. When we don't actually see ourselves behaving like an ass, and there is no one around to make us even think about accountability, we can do it more and more often until it becomes a habit. And the more it becomes a habit, the less and less we feel guilty about it. That is, until we sit down and read this, analyzing our own actions and . . . oh my gosh! Give me a Xanax! I'm not cut out for this! I'm hormonal. Cranky. Over-worked. Can't do it!

I feel guilty when I blow up at my kids, but it's probably natural since I'm with them ALL DAY LONG!!! —Lori, mom of three

Sometimes I think it sucks to be a woman. Men don't (generally) have the hormonal rages and worries that we do. Yes, I agree that we think things through better. (Yeah, hey, why don't we not tie a rope to the bumper of the car and see how fast the kids can go on the scooters, eh? My gosh, that is such a guy thing to think up!) We see long term when it comes to the care of kids, and we have better instincts to cuddle. But we also have this nasty temper that really has nothing to do with the core of who we are. These hormones go up and down, turning us into grouchy beasts. I would like to believe that under normal, non-hormonal circumstances, we could handle the exact same anger-producing scenarios with grace and decorum. Love. Care. Positive direction instead of yelling. Don't you think? In our better moments, we do seem just like those chipper parents in commercials. We kindly smile when they stain their pants with mud, reaching for our handy bottle of stain remover. We laugh when they spill the orange juice and easily grab those sturdy paper towels. We adore their chocolate-covered faces and offer them another freshly baked cookie.

But in reality, most of the time, the mud is just one more thing we have to take time to remove (all the while cussing that those were brand new pants), the orange juice makes so many sticky spots that we have to mop the damn floor, and the chocolate face may be cute, but the later behavior isn't worth it. Fifteen minutes after those fresh cookies, the kid is bouncing around like a nut, rubbing chocolate chip goo all over our walls with their grubby hands. Yes, it would be lovely to look at things so objectively and see the joy and carefree aspect of it, but in the end it's just more crap that we have to clean up.

Sometimes it's a matter of not knowing what to do. It's impossible to know the right thing to do in all circumstances. We constantly fail in trying to figure it out. Guilt, guilt, guilt! Will we ever get it right? Will our kids grow up co-dependent and helpless? Or worse, bullies and thugs? Okay, that's a stretch, but those people are out there! What did their parents do to raise such heathens? Who knows, but it's for darn sure they didn't wallow in guilt. And that's the problem, right? They never stepped back and took a good, hard look at themselves and how they were failing their children. And if they had, maybe the kids would have turned out better. Am I chasing my tail? Where'd it go? Oh, oh, there it is, there it is!

You know, at some point we should sit back and realize that we are what we are: great people with faults. Plain and simple. We can always strive to do better and analyze our mood to make sure that we aren't out of line. But occasionally falling flat on our faces is inevitable. Our kids will, unfortunately, take the brunt of that. It's depressing to think that we have (and will continue to) hurt our children, but some of that is the stuff of life. As long as it's not chronic, we are not abusive, and continually try our best, chances are our kids will learn valuable lessons in dealing with people.

I make sure my son knows nobody's perfect so he has realistic expectations of himself and others. I apologize to him when I'm wrong. I rationalize that he's going to be dealing with imperfect people all his life and that I would not be doing him any favors by making him think people will revolve around him. —Pam, mom of two

This is so true, my friend. Yes, we should watch our moods. No, we shouldn't take out our crazies on the kids. But we are not perfect, and shouldn't raise our kids to believe that life is so. Now, this is not carte blanche to do whatever the hell we want in order to teach them about life's little hiccups, but it is a step towards accepting our faults and teaching them what striving to do better is all about.

Our Actions/Reactions (Poop and Wine):

So my friend Sandy woke up one morning to the sound of her eighteen-month-old twin girls, Bethany and Hailie, playing and laughing over the monitor. How sweet! she mused. I bet they are playing with each other through their cribs. She had their room laid out so the two cribs were side by side, touching each other. The girls could do exactly that; interact and stay close.

As time went on, they got louder and louder, laughing more and more. She thought, They're having a blast! I'll ride this out and take my time getting their breakfast ready. They're having so much fun with each other. Enjoying this welcome break, she drank most of her coffee before going upstairs to get them.

Eventually she padded over to the stairs . . . then stopped. Nasty smell alert. As she put one foot in front of the other and went up the steps, the smell got worse and worse. Great, she thought. One of the dogs went upstairs and pooped or something. Ugh! And the house is for sale! What if we get a showing today? I can't show the house with this smell! By the time she got to the girls' doorway, the gag reflex was full-on. She stepped in, only to be assaulted. POOP! Everywhere. Beth was covered in it; poop was smashed on her face, legs, hair, all over her and her crib. Hailie's side was even worse: head to toe, all over her sheets, bedding, crib, even spread all over the wall. Poop nightmare!

Beth, in some David Copperfield-ninja move, had taken off her poop-filled diaper after shedding her onesie, still snapped and intact. She then apparently flung poop over to her sister's crib, like one of those howler monkeys at the zoo.

Attempting to take it all in, Sandy started walking towards them. She was mid-sentence (Ohhh MY GOSH . . . what in the . . .) when she squished a brown lump on the floor. Gasping in horror, she hopped around trying to fling the crap off her foot. Then she slipped and crash landed on her ass, smushing another smoldering pile of poop on the carpet.

The girls—thinking mommy lying on the floor covered in shit was freaking hilarious—started howling with laughter. And that tore it. Sandy snapped, screaming and cussing like a backwoods, hillbilly filthy-mouthed sailor, one dirty word after another, streaming out of her mouth like projectile vomit.

Words I'm sure I've never said before and at a volume my neighbors three blocks away could hear. Never in a bazillion years would I have ever said anything remotely close to this, especially in front of my children! Ohhhh, but I did. And once I noticed that my sweet cheerful girls' laughter had turned to crying, I began to cry too!

So there they were, all three covered in poop and bawling hysterically. That is when the guilt set in. How in the world could I have let myself scream like that? she thought. I've got to pull it together! Hauling her poopy ass up, she grabbed both girls and headed to the bathroom. Everyone that wasn't already naked stripped down and got in the tub, tears filling it up faster than the faucet.

Once everyone was clean, Sandy took them downstairs and got some breakfast in their bellies. Then she called her husband, who was out of town. He picked up, "Hey Honey!" and she erupted into another bawling jag, to the point where he had no earthly idea what the hell she was saying. Eventually he got little bits and pieces and started laughing. Laughing! Seriously? The poor woman just dealt with a poop-a-palooza and he's laughing. So she did the good wife bit and hung up on him. Quickly deciding that was bullcrap and he's not going to laugh at her and get away with it, she called right back. He picked up and got all huffy and business-like. "I do not have time to do this with you right now. I'm in a meeting." Offended beyond reason, she yelled, "FINE!" slamming the phone down again.

Sandy's head was fuming and about to explode. But guilt barged in again as she stepped back to think about a role reversal. What if she were the one at work? Busting her chops. Going to a different city every day, not able to see her kids, just to make money so the family can survive and one parent can stay home with the kids? (A home that, by the way, still had poop covering nearly every square inch upstairs; a crime scene that mommy couldn't bring herself to go up and take care of just yet.)

A couple of hours later, Daddy called back and apologized for not sympathizing. (More guilt.) Said he couldn't imagine how bad it was and probably would have thrown up three times. (Now she's past the guilt and feeling vindicated.) He then reassured Sandy that he was flying home that very afternoon and would help her when he arrived. Thank heavens! So she blurts, "Ok, but PLEASE stop and get me some chocolate—whatever you can find—and lots of it!" The sweet guy agreed and went off to close whatever ten million dollar deal he was about to tie up.

She got off the phone feeling a little better. But she stopped short when she realized nap time was coming up. Where were the girls going to sleep? Damn, she was going to have to get her kiester upstairs and clean the crap up! So she grabbed a couple of giant black trash bags and headed up to the war zone.

I swear, it had gotten worse. The smell was unbearable! Did the girls really need this bedding anymore? Nope. I threw it all away. I would rather buy new sheets and two blankets then have to deal with getting the now-hardened poop off!

Two extra-large containers of Lysol wipes, one bottle of carpet cleaner, and one can of Lysol spray later, it was clean. The poopy odor still lingered, but hey, the surface was clean. Since the house was for sale, the walls would still need to be painted (crimony!) but that would just have to wait. And since the whole freaking ordeal took two hours, the girls missed their nap. The silver lining was that she was able to put them down a little early for bed that night, so Sandy had some free time to think and recover.

After getting them all tucked in and asleep, she decided it was a wine kind of night. Now, my friend is not a huge drinker—an occasional glass of wine or beer here and there—but this night the liquor was calling her. Why not? she thought. I deserve it after the nightmare of a day I had!

Well. The dear girl didn't have just one glass. She polished off the whole stinkin' bottle. By the time her husband came home, she was nearly passed out on the couch, no energy for his consolatory bag of chocolate. The next morning, head pounding, she thought, Great, Sandy! Home alone with my young children, drunk off my butt. What if something happened?!

It took her a solid week to recover from the stress, and around that time it dawned on her that she hadn't started her period; matter of fact, she was really late. So she rushed out and bought a few magic sticks to pee on. Sure enough, the first one was positive. Positive! Unbelievable. She peed on two more sticks. Surely the first one had to be wrong! Nope. All positive. How in the world could this have happened? Okay, wait. Stupid question. I know how this happened. But . . . but . . . how did this happen?!

The next day she went to see the ob-gyn in absolute, freaking hysterics. "Please tell me the three tests I took were bad tests!" This is something she'd never dreamed she'd say considering it took four years of every kind of fertility treatment you can think of to get pregnant the first time. Waiting in the exam room for the results, she was a nervous wreck, thinking, My poor child! I couldn't handle the pressure of some measly poop and now I've hurt my baby! As soon as the doctor came back in announcing that she was about six weeks pregnant, she broke down bawling again. "My baby is gonna have three arms! I got really drunk last week and now my baby is gonna have fetal alcohol syndrome and it's ALL MY FAULT!!" She went on and on, recounting the whole dramatic story, arms flapping, voice breaking, nose running. Laughing out loud a couple of times, her doctor finally reassured her, "Sweetie, I'm pretty sure your baby will be just fine."

Sure enough, my son was fine. Now that he is four, I can look back on all this and laugh . . . hard! —Sandy, mom of three

Now, people, please. Doesn't this story make you feel so much better? Yay, Sandy! Not that we joy in this scar on your life. But we do thank our lucky cheese doodles we never had to deal with that! Cripes!

Blowing Up

If there is anyone reading this who hasn't gone ape shit a time or two, you're in the top one percent. A Parent of the Year award is coming your way. As for the rest of us, time to join hands and gulp something happy. Chamomile tea is great; one of my staples. A responsible amount of vino is nice sometimes, too. Downing a little wine (just a little!) or half a glass of frozen margarita is cathartic in two ways. First, it helps us chill the (bleep!) out. Second, it's a good excuse to get together with friends and gripe about our failures as parents. Because we're going to drink, it needs to be with friends. As Rhett Butler told Scarlett O'Hara, "Don't drink alone, Scarlett. People always find out and it ruins the reputation." (And do not tell me you young people haven't heard of Gone with the Wind.) No matter how much you go berserk on your kids, you won't find Guilt Club members advising you become a lush to deal with the guilt. That's a no-no and warrants dumping liquid chocolate on your head.

Really, how does one avoid blowing up here and there? These children try our very last nerve. We love them, but how much crying and tantrums can we take? Meltdowns over shoes? Fighting tooth and nail over naps? Hours and hours of screams at bedtime? How in the hell do these kids not get sore throats? All that yelling would have me sipping licorice tea and refusing to speak. Ouch. But nooooo, no, no. These kids can keep it up all night long. And the sibling fights? Just kill me. How many arguments must they get into during the fifteen minutes you are home after school until you have to leave for soccer and baseball practice? He's in my room! You took my ham! She won't leave me alone! Mooooom, Josh is drawing on my glove! All the while you are conductor of the chaos, directing child #1 to go to his room and read for ten minutes, insisting child #2 get a healthy snack, and trying to keep child #3 from beating on child #1's door. The sweet dog needs to go out, and you are on the phone with the PTO president, trying to convince her that you really can't stay on the school board and volunteer half your life away next year.

Should we blow up at our kids because we're having a bad day? What about when they act like freaking selfish ingrates who don't give a rat's behind that we bust ourselves daily trying to care for them and cater to their every single need? Can we blow up then? Is it ever justified? Probably not. It's the living in the box thing. When you're in it, it seems too awful to bear without yelling to get someone's attention or to get the point across to a kid who just doesn't care.

Listen, I'm all about the mistakes and hormonal crazies. But you've got to step back at some point and simply consider if it works. Does blowing up make us feel better? Does it get the kids to do what we ask? Not generally.

My blow ups are not frequent, but they do happen. And even though my husband cannot fathom why the house must be picked up that very minute (or I will clean up myself and throw away everything on the floor—I swear I will!) he has learned to get on board to keep Mommy happy. The outburst is not without cost, though. I end up with an all-day guilt trip due to my mood and taking it out on the kids. Objectively, who really cares if they don't put away their laundry right now?

Well (back to hormone-ville), I'll tell you who really cares. Mommy really cares. Because Mommy has been asking the kids all damn week to put away their laundry, and they've been too busy with Barbies and homework and birthday parties, and now it needs to get done OR I AM GOING TO FLIP OUT. What is there to understand, here? Yes, I know I set off the tears with the threats of throwing out the heaping pile of stuffed animals if they don't organize it in the next ten minutes, but I can't find a path to the bed! And I can't make the bed because it's covered in another twelve hundred stuffed seals, bears, tigers, giraffes, and every imaginable breed of canine. By the way, it's their job to make their beds, not mine. And they haven't done that all week, either.

Have mom and dad forgotten to make breakfast this week? Lunches? Dinner? Forgotten to wash the kids' clothes? Apparently not, because it's in a clean pile that they consistently step over to get to their toys and endless projects. Hmmm . . . no, we haven't forgotten to feed our kids. Funny, I think they would flip out a teensy bit if I missed that little detail so important to them. So why am I in the wrong when I ask and ask and ask, and then go just a hair crazy when request number 904 rolls around? Anyone? Do our children have to ask nine hundred times before we buy them exactly what they want for Christmas? Do they have to hound and hound us to keep them safe and happy and healthy? I think not.

We of the Guilt Club will throw no harsh admonishments to our fellow members for getting fed up and letting the family have it here and there. We understand the guilt when you holler at an eighteen-month-old for making a marker mural on your wall. We understand that you screamed and screamed, scaring the living crap out of that poor child when he really has absolutely no clue as to what he did wrong, and his innocence is now that much less sweet because Mommy-the-Protector lost sight of her role and took her stresses out in an inappropriate way. We don't condone it, honey. We just understand. Because we've all done it.

If you find yourself flipping out here and there, no worries. It's normal. But if you lose your marbles a lot, girl, I'm here to tell you, rethink your life. Rethink your discipline, rethink your voice, and rethink your routine. If the daily routine is chaos, then your kids know nothing but chaos. And if they know nothing but chaos, how in the heck do you expect them to act? "Nuts" is how they function! It fits right in with chaos.

If this is you, pull back. Pull back on the activities, spend more time guiding and loving your kids, and get refocused on being a model for how you want them to act.

Guide your children. When they look like they're going to slam a door, stuff your urge to holler, "Don't slam the door!" Instead, tell them, "Close the door quietly." Kids cannot process negatives. Let me repeat:

Kids cannot process negatives!

Stop telling them what you don't want to see. Don't hit your sister. Stop fighting! Quit playing around. When you say these things, they hear, "Hit your sister"; "Fight"; "Play around." Seriously, if I told you, "Don't think about your best friend in high school," what is the first thing you do? You think about your friend! This is exactly what we do to our kids when we give them "instructions" in the negative. So stop. Cooperation is easier to come by when we give specific positive instruction, and keep the schedule light enough to allow appropriate sleep and down time.

We need to step outside of ourselves and stop barking out a negative. Think about what you want. Really think. Are the kids arguing? Do you want quiet? Then ask for it. "I need your voices off." That is specific, positive instruction. Then you need to get into each conversation and guide your kids on how to negotiate and get along. Get each side of the story/argument and help them communicate. Tell them specifically what they should say to each other. Model it. If you don't tell them what to say and do, they won't know. This takes more effort up front, but they learn how to communicate quicker—and it pays dividends in the end. Most of us have to figure it out on our own, and we're thirty five years old with two years of therapy behind us before we've learned how to communicate effectively.

Listen, we are all exhausted. I get it. But we must pay attention to our kids and show them how to behave. Tell, show, model. All the time. Tell them what you want to see, show them how to use appropriate language and communication to cut down tantrums or to get along with siblings, and model how you want them to act. We all know what it's like to work all day and not have the energy to even sneeze when we get home, but this is where the real guidance is needed. The witching hours. Everyone is tired, not just you. Your kids need you to pay attention and guide them on how to act when we aren't at our best.

Honey, I'm no Super Mom (my friends would outright cackle at the notion). My level of day-to-day tiredness causes some serious discord in this house. So I understand the struggles to pull it together and negotiate yet one more stupid, nonsensical fight with our kids at 6 p.m. You're on the phone in the car and trying to pick up dinner (we don't cook seven days a week in the Guilt Club), and your toddler is screeching about big sister swiping his blankie. Guuuuuuh! Really? Can we let go this one time and yell at sister to give back the damn blanket? Why? Why in heavens name does the child feel the need to make the baby cry? Is it fun to listen to a screaming toddler? Is there really that much satisfaction bossing around a younger sibling? Why must kids be so mean, and why can't I YELL AT HER TO STOP?

Because it won't work, my friend. It's the easier thing to do, but it offers you no help long- or short-term. The harder thing to do—the right thing to do—is to provide guidance. "Lacy, we do not take brother's blanket. Give it back and tell him you're sorry." Sit in the darn car and calmly but firmly stare her down until she complies. Please don't forget that you deserve respect. The only way to get it is to show your kids how to give it. Is this sinking in yet?

Your reactions set the tone for every single teeny, tiny thing that goes on in your house. You can set a calm, authoritative tone, or you can set a crazy, yelling, disrespectful tone. We all lose it here and there, and that's okay. As long as our norm is a steady, communicative, guiding, consistent presence, then everyone will be fine. Set that tone of loving instruction, and know going in that you will have to repeat the same freaking things over and over and over. Your patience will be tried and your cool will be tested. We all fail and we all feel guilty. Let's just put that guilt to good use and try to better ourselves. Get a book, research online, get counseling, whatever. Learn how to change your reactions to get a positive change in your family.

Look in the mirror. Love the person you see. Forgive her mistakes and challenge her to do better. Everyday.

_That_ is a great parent.
Chapter Five: Neglect and Regrets

How many parents have you talked to in your lifetime? Hundreds? Thousands? They are our relatives, friends, neighbors, business partners, and strangers. We strike up new conversations or hash out old ones over and over. And let me ask you: when was the last time an older parent told you, "I have no regrets and never felt like I needed to do more for my kids"? They never dropped their children on their heads as babies, never felt the need to spend more time with them, never had regrets over the shows their kids watched, food they ate, friends they had, grades they got, or failures they suffered. Anyone? Certainly not me. I don't believe I have ever met one parent who has made this claim.

My daughter got the bright idea to cover her face with red dots to get out of going to school. So the day before Kindergarten graduation, she got a red marker and decorated her face. She marched in and told me, "I can't go to school today because I've got measles!" I flipped out and yelled, "Oh my gosh, what have you done to your face?!" All I could think about were her Kinder graduation pictures being ruined because of this stunt. Looking back on it, I regret being so concerned about the pictures that I didn't appreciate the moment of how hilarious that was. —Debra, mom of 3

For most of us, the regret list is endless. A day goes by, a week goes by, but then a year goes by and you feel that twinge of anxiety creeping into your gut. Ack! Where did the time go? Did I really miss that fourth tooth coming in? If it's a second or third child, can you even recall when they first smiled or sat up? No, the time wheel churns and it's all you can do to hold on for dear life and not fall off the ride. Then as they get older and you have ten minutes of downtime to reflect on missed opportunities and poor decisions, you may as well be riding a dingy on the river of guilt. Just dive right in. Who cares now? We missed it all anyway, right?

Not Doing Enough

Well of course we're not doing enough. Did we read to our child last night and help with their bedtime routine? Did we schedule any play dates this week? Did we pick up one lousy block and help make a tower today? Have we taken our child to the library in the past two months? What about sports? Have we made a single freaking phone call to get our child involved in soccer, ballet, or lacrosse? No, no, no, no, and no. Chocolate, please. Just a wee bit of guilt, here.

My daughter just started playing the violin in middle school. At the beginning of the year, in addition to the eight thousand other papers you have to fill out and checks you need to write, we were given a form for private lessons at school. For who knows how much a month (can't recall since I threw the paper right into the trash), a private teacher will come in once a week during your child's orchestra class and give them one on one instruction. Since I had no intention of shelling out one more dime, I passed it up.

Lo and behold, when we went to my child's first solo performance at a Strings Recital, my kid was one of the best on the stage. My overwhelming pride at my daughter's success was nearly overshadowed by the fact that (a) I thought my husband had the camera so I didn't bring one to record her first solo performance, and (b) holy cow, the kid is terrific and I had been denying her the opportunity to be that much better. Why, why, WHY? How much could those private lessons possibly be? Fifteen bucks a week? Twenty? Sure, I had no idea how well she'd take to the instrument and didn't want to invest even more money on something she could possibly hate, but look how it turned out! I'm a horrible mom! With no camera! Oh my GOSH.

This whole not doing enough, for my part, is the sole reason for my streaks of grey hair. My husband, on the other hand, spends nearly every possible moment of his life with our kids: playing, fixing meals, reading, throwing or kicking balls, jumping on the trampoline, hiking, watching kid movies, doing the entire night time routine and tucking them in, blah, blah, blah. It's horrifying for my lazy ass to even think about. I mean, obviously I'm grateful for his help, but it makes me look that much more pathetic. What in the hell am I doing all day that I can't do even half of what he does? If I work all day, my energy level is zero. And yet here is this man who comes home from his long day, sits down to a hot meal only if he's lucky enough that I made something, then hops up and yells, "Let's go ride scooters!" What? Physical activity? After dinner? Forget it. Someone grab me a pillow and a book. The only thing I'll yell is, "Get back here and help with these dishes!"

At the end of the day—or as I'm sitting down to write about guilt and reflecting on my own—there is rarely a time when I think, "That was good. I did enough with them today." My grief, it's worse than watching some soppy chic flick every single night of your life. (Sniff, sniff. Boo hoo. Hiccup.) Because it's not like we do some huge 180 and change our habits to spend more time with our kids. We still have work and our daily grind. We still can't seem to break the darn pattern. What is up with that? We reflect and feel guilty each night, then get up the next day and do the same darn things all over again.

You know, I don't think it matters if you work or not. When you work outside the home you might have a tiny bit of self-justification in neglecting to get your child to the dentist or ordering take-out food four nights of the week. But stay-at-home moms struggle with different issues.

I feel a lot of pressure to have tons of activities for the kids: play dates, art projects, ballet classes, youth sports. Before having kids, I always felt that a stay-at-home mom should have their children doing stuff all the time. Or, at the very least, I should do stuff with them! Now that they are older, I feel guilty that they weren't in more activities and that I didn't spend enough one-on-one time with them. —Karin, mom of two

We all suffer from the neglect blues. We don't play or read with our children enough. We yap on the phone when we should be watching them instead. They end up spending far too much time alone or stuck with a sibling they seem to hate. As they age, they certainly don't get our attention. They can bathe and dress themselves, and by golly we've got two younger children to take care of. The older ones can suck it up! We find ourselves thinking, "When you were younger, you got this same amount of attention, so believe me, it's fair!"

But, if we are going to be honest, then one thing we are not is totally fair to consecutive kids. Remember when our first ones were young and got sick? Oooooh my heavens, the world stopped turning! Rush the poor thing to the doctor, buy as much electrolytes and chicken soup as possible, and clear the calendar! The baby is sick! Come hell or high water, we are going to make them well! By the third or fourth kid, though, we think nothing of dragging their snotty faces and feverish booties everywhere. Hey, we have too much crap to do. They can tag along.

I'm a realtor and had to show a house one weekend, but my child was sick and too young to leave at home and I couldn't find a sitter. So I wrapped him in a blanket and took him with me to the showing. He waited in the car so I could keep an eye on him while I tried to very quickly show the house. I feel bad about it, but would have felt worse leaving him at home. —Leanne, mom of two

When my youngest was three, I had her in the cart at the grocery store and she started crying that she felt bad. I checked her forehead and, yep, the kid had a fever. But did I head to the checkout right that minute and get the poor child home? No, siree. I wasn't finished shopping yet. So first I had her lean against my chest as she sat in the basket seat and cooed her into "just a few more minutes, honey." But then she thought she might throw up. I paused a moment. Logistically speaking, if she threw up all over me, I would have to leave immediately. I would not get to check out, would not gain any groceries for my empty pantry, and would have kept her miserable self out for naught. So I raced to the aisle with the gallon zipper bags, grabbed a box off the shelf, ripped it open, and shoved one under her nose. "Here, honey! If you need to throw up, do it in the bag. Mommy's hurrying!"

I end up stacking my groceries in one half of the cart and laying our coats down in the other half, giving her a soft spot to get horizontal. Then I let her lie there whimpering while I raced around the store (not helping the nausea, I'm sure) to get turkey, milk, bread, and all the other crap I thought I needed. Luckily, she saved the throwing up until we got home, but I think that was mainly because she was crying so hard.

Was she sobbing because I put her through too much trauma? Or would she have cried that hard anyway because she's a major princess and can't handle nausea (a true statement to this very day)? I have no clear answer to that, but the fact that I remember that day so clearly leads me to believe that, no matter how I justify it, that was definitely one of my less-than-terrific-parenting days.

Here are some things I feel guilty about: suddenly noticing that I haven't taught my son something basic. (Hasn't someone taught you not to use the tabletop as a towel? Oh yeah, I guess that's my job.) Or failing to spend time on things he needs to work on because it's soooo boring. (I don't want to throw a ball in hundred degree heat. I don't want to practice piano every day. Let's read a book instead.) Or when I hope that he doesn't notice that I didn't brush his teeth when I'm too darn tired (only once or twice!) —Tracy, mom of two

Whether it's bathing, brushing teeth, not spending enough time with them, or feeding them crappy food because we can't muster up the energy to care, we all end up feeling like we could have done a better job. And of course we could have done a better job . . . but can you imagine that person? The one who does a perfect job all the time? I don't care what kind of happy face that person puts on, she would end up in the freaking looney bin. And here's why. That woman will give every single minute of her time to the child who needs her. She would not get coffee, would not be able to work outside the home, would be stressed nonstop over the guilt of simply showering, and would spend so much time organizing entertainment for her child that she would end up bitter and crazed. Is that what you want?

Listen honey, we've been over the fact that you're a great parent. Great parents are great because they balance their needs with those of their children. Everyone's gotta give here and there, and that means our kids, too! They need to learn that as much as we adore every little hair on their heads, we aren't their freaking Fairy God Mother, slave, personal assistant, chef, and entertainment agent. No, I don't spend every minute with my kids. And when my husband isn't around (he tends to cater to the little darlings) I make them do laundry, cook meals, clean dishes, and fend for themselves. Call it lazy, but I call it "life training." His superhero way is terrific (and dare I say, perfect) but, in my view, making them take care of themselves is also a good thing. So when he has those moments of "why can't they just clean up their crap?!" I shake my head in wonder and go, "Gosh, honey. How often do you make them?"

We can't get so caught up in serving our kids that they grow up thinking the world revolves around them. You've seen this type of kid with your own eyes, I'm sure of it. They have a poor work ethic, have no idea how to clean up after themselves, can't cook to save their lives, and have no sense of accountability. They prioritize themselves, won't do anything unless there is an incentive, and need their mommies to update their resumes and pick out their clothes. These are helpless, dependent, selfish little creatures raised by parents who do everything for them. Don't get me wrong—they are not bad people. That's the stink of it. They are very sweet individuals. But this doesn't change the fact that they have not been exposed to the teeniest bit of adversity or accountability and it will take them that much longer to mature. Their version of real life is incredibly egocentric, and that doesn't actually help them become better people.

So ease up on the guilt of not doing enough. There will always be something we should have done or could have done better. Always. But many of us also tend to over-do in an unhealthy way. As a speech therapist, I see it all the time. I was in therapy recently with a group of eight-year-olds, having them work on language skills by listing steps to a task. When I said, "Tell me how to make a bed," they just stared at me, befuddled. Hunh? Make a bed? Falling back in my chair in defeat, I sighed, "Please tell me you make your own beds." Blank stares. Head shakes. "No . . . umm, Mom does that." So I backed it up. "Okay, tell me how you think you'd make a bed." More blank stares. They had no clue.

Does this ring any bit of "wrong" or "ludicrous" to you? They. Had. No. Clue. No clue that you straighten sheets, pull up the blanket, and put the pillow on top. Not difficult actions. But they were so taken care of that they couldn't even think through the process of what one might do if it ever occurred to them to make a bed. I conjure up images of these kids as husbands and wives, their spouses wailing, "Why are you so messy? You drive me insane! Why can't you at least make the bed?" They reply, "Gee, honey, I'm sorry. I really don't know how. My mom never taught me!"

Fussy Grandparents

From what I see, mother-in-laws and moms put the most pressure on the wives, so I don't really have to deal with it. However, when it comes to in-laws, I think you have two situations: either the mother-in-law doesn't think the wife is good enough for her son, or she is jealous of the wife-husband relationship, thinking she's been replaced. —Mike, dad of two

Mother-in-law guilt is worse than parental guilt! My mother-in-law was judgmental about everything from the bottle I gave to the diaper I changed. She questioned everything I did because "we didn't do it that way!" —Maria, mom of two

And just what on earth do we do about this? Isn't it enough that we have our own self blame to deal with? Must the grandparents smack an exclamation point on to our already flagellating thoughts? How do we handle this? Fighting doesn't help (although it doesn't mean we don't still try). But we can't just roll over and take it either, since that builds resentment. What usually ends up happening is that we defend ourselves to a degree and take the rest like an abusive slap, hoping that's the end of it and the parents and their insults will surely have to go away soon.

My mom was sometimes cruel to me when I was younger. Then when I became a parent, she would get on to me about my parenting skills in the same way. I understand the underlying issues of why she said those things, and she has since apologized for some of the more horrible comments, but it still stung. I handled it by killing her with kindness and trying to ignore the insults or reprimands to do things differently. Now she has aged and due to medical conditions, I have to take care of her. I haven't forgotten our past, but she isn't cruel to me anymore. —Donna, mom of two

We all grow up with baggage, having at least one time or another when we feel our parents could have gone about things differently and spared us some heartache. But even though we are older, with kids of our own, we still feel this sense of responsibility to listen to our parents nag. With in-laws, sure, that's one thing. Not the greatest idea to pick a fight and alienate our spouse's parent. But what about our own parents? Why do we still take the harassment?

Sometimes the problem is that basic sense of duty to take the suggestions, but you can also run into cultural considerations, escalating the guilt. I was appalled when a couple of my friends caved to parental insistence on not showering (although a "bath" was okay) or washing their hair for a month after their babies were born. These were grown, independent, intelligent women who spent their maternity leaves with unwashed hair because Mommy said so. I can't recall how many times I asked for the logic behind this, but even my friends couldn't figure it out. It's just the way it was and they did what they were told, because cultural expectations demanded it. Those same grandparents will lecture for hours on the efficacy of my friends' parenting skills, going on and on about the lax in letting the kids get away with crying, fussing, whining, and disrespectful behavior. And although we loathe admitting it, those of us who forgo delusions of self-justification know that in a way, they are right. Come on, admit it! Can you even imagine our children standing at attention when we speak? A word, a glare, a gesture, and wham!—they straighten up? Makes me giggle to even think it!

My mom is a five foot nothing French-Italian Catholic that you just didn't mess with. She'd stand on a chair with a frying pan and scare the bejeebies out of me and my brothers—who are over six feet tall! She's the best mom ever but will blow up when stressed, even now that I'm an adult with my own adult kids. But my whole family will do that; blow up, get it out, and we're good. We don't rehash, we don't throw anything back in another's face, and we move on. I appreciate that and I know that everything my mom does is out of love. —Judy, mom of three

So glaring and quick snaps don't work on our kids. Can we agree on this? Current parenting leans toward understanding behavior, analyzing a loving way to approach it, tolerating disrespectful behavior more than previous generations of parents, and feeling like horrible people when we slip up and do it wrong. Heaven forefend, if we can't figure out how to stop tantrums without involving a hug, we feel like unloving people. To top that all off, the age of diagnosis has kicked in and every other kid you look at has ADD or some obscure allergy that lends itself to crazy behavior. And our parents have a hard time accepting that!

I'm generally a very easy going person, but since my son has been diagnosed with Asperger's, I've had a difficult time. Making it more difficult was the fact that my in-laws didn't believe it. They just think he needs more discipline and spanking. I actually had an extended family member shake her finger at me and tell me what I was doing wrong—someone who doesn't even have kids herself! My heart was already hurting with my son's diagnosis and that put me over the edge. —Tonia, mom of two

Would it help if our parents and in-laws were less over-bearing and more supportive or would we still be a mess without their help in getting us there? To a degree, their constant "advice" is understandable; their perspective is different, and it's certainly not a stretch to think that we'd like to offer our own suggestions to a family member that we think is screwing up their kid. But we don't do it. It's taboo. We don't go around giving unsolicited parenting advice anymore—not to family, not to anyone. First off, if they didn't specifically ask what you think, nobody gives a crap what you have to say no matter who you are. Second, you'd be asking for a catfight. So why do parents get away with it? Because we feel obligated to listen? Or because we need their help and we have to hold our tongue in order to get it? You know what I mean . . . babysitting.

I had a strict upbringing from traditional Catholic Chinese parents and they are constantly on my butt about my parenting. My in-laws are even worse. I have an Autistic son and they always have advice on how I should be doing things differently. I spend so much time working to pay for his therapy or trying to do what the school tells me to and it's difficult when I get no support whatsoever. I tolerate the lectures, though, because I need their help with babysitting. I don't feel comfortable leaving my son with a sitter who won't know how to handle him. My son reserves most of his bad behavior for me, so of course he does pretty well with my parents and in-laws for the short time that they watch him. This makes it worse for me because it confirms to them that I'm doing things wrong! If they had to live with him, maybe they would understand. —Alicia, mom of three

But here's the thing: I don't think they'll ever understand. Our parents have a completely different perspective on raising kids, which can seriously clash with ours. And they aren't going to change. They raised their kids, they've experienced life, and they think they know what's best. The fact that they feel so bold in telling us what they think is downright rude, but still, can you blame them? You'll probably see your own children doing some pretty crazy stuff when they have their own kids. Will you be able to hold your tongue?

When I was growing up, it never occurred to me that my parent's way of raising me wasn't right or perfect. As a parent myself now, I see the flaws. Their discipline shaped me, and even though I've grown up and disagreed somewhat, I try to recognize and learn from their mistakes. On some level, I'm happy when I realize, "Oh! That's why you always said that!" My parents have passed away and I regret not being able to tell them, "I get it now and I appreciate you." —Emily, mom of two

In our calm, thoughtful moments, we can realize that our parents and in-laws mean well—even if they're toot-heads about it. The troubling thing is that we really are trying to do our best. In the heat of the moment, especially if the comments are hateful, it's not easy to see any positive from someone telling us we shouldn't be doing what we're doing. Try taking a deep breath and distracting them like we do with our toddlers on a rant. "Oh, look! There's a naked man running down the street!" Or you could take the tactic of my friend Julie's husband who manages to extend an errand for mustard into a blissful two hour break from the stress. If all else fails, go hide in the closet. Always works for me.

Letting Things Go

OH my gosh! Really, how much can we let go before we need chocolate hooked up to our veins? We let our children watch too much television or spend endless hours playing electronics or video games—even while on the toilet. (Heaven help me!) We let them talk back to us to an extreme, and eat whatever the heck they want because we're too busy to care. Then when they act like little buttheads because they can't get their way all the time, we flip out and fume over why on earth they are so ungrateful and sassy.

Hhhhmmm . . . Being no stranger to letting things go, I can empathize to a degree. The TV thing—sister, I'm right there. Constantly on the computer and distracted so much with work or PTO nonsense, I don't even hear my kids when they come in and ask to watch TV. "What? Yeah—just make a good choice. You're old enough." Shooing them away with a flick of my wrist, I get right back to the email that needs to be finished, or chapter that needs to be written. Two hours later, re-entering the real world is a shock. The upstairs looks like a war zone and they're glued to the screen like zombies. Are you kidding me? I didn't raise you to be so unobservant (well, okay . . . apparently I did). You don't get to watch television until your laundry is put away, homework is done, and all messes are cleaned up. So why are you sitting in front of the TV?! "Well, Mommy, we're still playing with that stuff upstairs." What? No you're not. You're sitting your bums on the couch, apparently not contemplating the fact that you live in a pig sty!

To what end do I stew over this? It's my own damn fault for not getting my carcass off the chair and checking to make sure they have their chores done. Isn't that what a good mommy does? (Yikes.) A good mommy doesn't let their child eat crap-ola every day simply because she couldn't take the time to cut up some veggies and stick them in the fridge for a quick snack. A good mommy always takes the time to help her child with homework. A good mommy gets her kiester off the phone when her child is throwing a tantrum because she knows that letting it go teaches her child that he gets what he wants when he misbehaves. We certainly don't let them get away with that baloney. Right?

Oh my.

So here's where I have empathy yet no sympathy. I'm a behavior chic. That's my soap box, beef, and passion. It's a rare circumstance that I will tell a mom it's okay to let bad behavior go. A kid that bites, tantrums, punches your thigh, or screams at you to put iced tea in their bottle—wow. We need to talk. And if that kid is over three years old, holy cow, we need to talk. My second beef is food (of course), but only because feeding kids crappy food leads to crappy behavior. Caffeine, sugar, processed packaged hooey . . . you're just asking your child to behave like a monkey on speed.

But stuff like spoiling, I mean, come on. Who among us decent parents doesn't do that? Yes, it leads to more crappy behavior, and there's a point at which I say, "Enough." But if you have a child who respects you (as much as their little brain is capable) then why not buy them that stuffed animal? If they're screaming about it, of course you refuse. But if they're being sweet, how can we resist?

My friends, it's all about balance. They have their needs, and we have ours. Realize your limitations and understand that you are doing your child no favors by catering to their every single need. Is the big bad world going to do that for them? Nope. So stop teaching them that particular garbage. When you train them to expect the world to satisfy their every desire, you set everyone up for huge disappointments and heartache. We have our stuff to do, and time won't stop so we can get it done. That means we will have to miss a few milestones or let them watch TV so we can have a moment to nurse our migraine with an ice pack.

I have a friend who says that picking your battles is BS. In her mind, you pick them all in order to raise healthy, well-adjusted, respectful kids. In a way, this is true. But she still has to have me pick her kids up from school here and there because she has to work. She still has to deal with the juggle of clean house versus church activities. She still has to give in occasionally to keep the family peace when daddy handles something differently than she would. So she really is picking her battles. She just won't compromise the behavior battles, because she's my bird of a feather and insists her kids behave.

Choose your own battles. I would never suggest to a fellow club member that you let your child disrespect you, but other than that, eh. We are busy, overwhelmed, sometimes controlling (don't even try to convince me otherwise, girlfriend!), and we simply can't divide ourselves into enough pieces to get everything done. Something has to give. I'm not saying we should stop trying, but we have to recognize that we can't all be superhero parents.

And you know what? That's okay. Pop a piece of expensive chocolate in your mouth and glory in the fact that you are getting through this parenting gig at all. Chances are your kid is just dandy and you are the only one suffering through the guilt of I-could-have-done-better. I doubt your child will hold it against you forever if you totally forget to dress them up in a costume for the Fall Fest at preschool. They'll probably even forgive you if your lack of attention to their teeth caused a cavity. You will remember, but they are all right, I swear!

Note from Author

I really think that good, caring parents are hardwired for guilt as a check and balance. Without it, many people would make terrible decisions. So sometimes it's a really good thing. Without guilt, for instance, older kids would be in a position to make constant bad choices; their brains literally are not wired to process consequences, so they cannot be expected to make adult decisions. A little Catholic guilt may go a long way in keeping them out of trouble.

Guilt can, however, go to an extreme and impair a person so badly that it rules their life. (Catholic guilt, again—and I teeter on the edge of this ruling-your-life thing constantly.)

One of my main struggles in writing this book was that I wanted to keep the focus on guilt and on offering support. Now, sometimes the path to getting past guilt is learning how to discipline and hold your ground. But this book is not about discipline (and there's too much to cover, anyway). When I'm reading a book, I find that I skip over any long-winded tangents. So I've only touched on discipline here as an important part of easing guilt. I tried not to fuss too much about discipline issues that may or may not need fixing. It's up to you how much you pursue that path. If you want more of my thoughts on this topic, I deal with it in-depth in my books, Life with Toddlers, Toddler ABC Guide to Discipline, and Tiger Tamer (for 5-12 year olds). There are also plenty of free charts for chores, behavior, homework, and more at www.TigerTamerCharts.com for 5 to 12 year olds and free toddler behavior, goal, potty training, and reward charts for ages 1 to 4 at www.LifeWithToddlers.com. Use them! It builds structure and consistency.

The other struggle that I encountered was selecting my audience. I didn't want this book to be just for toddler parents. I want all caregivers to be able to read, laugh, and feel recharged. Yes, it's mainly geared toward parents of young children, but I tried to skip around and touch on different ages. Even if you are past the toddler years, hopefully you can find nuggets of help and commiseration. We can easily get stuck on mistakes of the past. A good, sympathetic ear can sometimes help us overcome the guilt.

Helping people and having a good time is my goal. I hope you walk away from this book feeling like you've just had an enjoyable conversation with a close friend. That's the chocolate of life. Hugs, my dear!
About the Author

Michelle Smith is a Speech-Language Pathologist and mother of three. She works with all ages of children, from preschool to high school seniors. This is her fifth book behind Life with Toddlers, Toddler ABC Guide to Discipline, Taboo Secrets of Pregnancy, and Tiger Tamer: Discipline for Challenging Behavior in Ages 5 to 12. Commingling her professional skills and personal experience, she truly understands the awesome task of balancing love and guidance. Her unique perspective and distinct voice allow her to empower discouraged caregivers with heartfelt, professional, and realistic advice.

The perfect way to send your little one off to sleep! Includes the first three volumes of the Fat Cat Series: Fat Cat Finds a Home, Fat Cat Wants a Bath, and Fat Cat Wants Outside. Join sweet old Fat Cat in her adventures with her new family.

Free download: Oops! The 9 Ways We Screw Up Our Toddlers

Free download: Fat Cat Finds a Home
