Yesterday both my children received a time out together.
Obviously in different parts in the house, but at the same time. They were both acting like nutballs and Zed and I each grabbed a little turkey and parked their tail feathers for their respective 5 and 2 minutes.
We have never done this before.
For the most part, Whirlwind and Baby Bot play really well together.
Not like me and my brother.
Punishing my children for their behaviour really took me back to my childhood. I hated being sent to my room. I hated it even more when I was sent to my room and my brother wasn’t. Seriously, that was NOT fair. He was equally, if not more responsible for my behaviour.
I know.
I know.
I said my behaviour. But, he usually did something totally awful to tick me off and make me hit him.
I know.
I know.
I just said “make me hit him”.
I think its pretty obvious that I was a self entitled little brat. But that is not the point.
The way I remember my punishments is still is incredibly frustrating to me. Even at 36 years old with two children of my own, I still feel like my parents never heard me when I spoke to them. That they never ever listened to what I had to say. I still feel that they never saw him instigate. And I don’t really mean to hold on to all that crap. Honestly, I don’t waste time thinking about it, but when I do, boy its like I jumped into a bloody time machine.
As an adult my relationship with my big brother is good. We get a lot fine. I quite like him, but its still obvious that he has no patience for me. And I still think that if given the opportunity, he would still punch me in the biceps.
Kyla Cornish
Twitter: @Mommyisweird https://twitter.com/Mommyisweird
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