Down With OPK

Kitchen reno continues. Mr. Savant made Great Strides while we Ladies enjoyed a five day Birthday Weekend in StLouis with The Darlings.

Despite the wonderful progress, the house is in total disorder - sans kitchen cabinets, sans a sink. Everything that belongs There, is Here, and I can find Nothing.
The stove and fridge are intact - a horrible reminder that I could still prepare food, theoretically speaking.

What better day to have a New Baby join the ranks of Miss Kelly’s “House of Torture” Daycare?
Good thing I’ve had CancerKid long enough his folks know there’s nothing out-of-the-ordinary with a ten-foot-long slab of laminate leaning against the dining room table.
“That area? That’s cordoned off for your son’s protection. The laminate slab is the barrier to keep him out of those cleaning chemicals sitting next to that box marked ‘Knife Drawer’.”

Mom described Baby’s mood as “surly” when they arrived. I grabbed him fearlessly. I thumped and jostled. He screamed as his mom calmly and patiently Made Do without a kitchen, showing me how to prepare her son’s first Daycare Breakfast.
Turns out Baby wasn’t surly; he was hungry. (I had noticed a lack of churlish rudeness and menace, though he did appear to a bit lordly and arrogant. “Surly” though? Maybe in a Hairless/Toothless/CradleCap-in-the-Eyebrows kinda way. I could see it.)

Until today I’d never made a bottle. Now I’m mixing them on the vanity, rinsing and washing them in a basin in the bathtub.
This kid is gonna be tough, growing up in Miss Kelly’s House of Torture. We offer Fearless Daycare from Cradle to Grave.

Our motto is “We Raise ‘Em, and Train ‘Em Right, Because You Can’t.”

Two times in the past four years I’ve had the opportunity to do childcare in my home. It found me.
Turns out I love the job and I’m Incredible.

I’ve got a BS in Speech and Language Pathology and a Master’s in Communicative Disorders. I took a lot of child development, education and psych courses, so I’m highly trained to be nothing, without a close friend or family member in the school system.
If I was quick-thinking and decisive I could work in acute rehab.
If I was thick-skinned I could go into long term care.

We’re all called to something. I’m appointed to train Awesome Children; my own, and a few privileged others.
This is remarkable because I loathe OPK.

Most people are crappy parents who fail to raise kids that are a blessing to anyone. They neglect the needs of their children, choosing instead to cater to their demands. Lousy parents recognize their kids’ unsavoriness, but chose to do nothing about it. Kids need discipline (read: training), and who's doing your job if you're not?

Children are self-centered by nature, and too young to choose for themselves. It’s ludicrous that a two-year-old child is allowed to control a grown woman, but Moms make a myriad of stupid excuses for failing to train. Child-oriented parenting is detestable, but our society as a whole accepts and embraces the philosophy.

When Darling was a child, the motto was “Catch ‘em Being Good.” Some moron proclaimed “Time Out” was an effective deterrent for bad behaviors (and called them “mistakes”).
They said, “Everyone’s a winner.”
Around that time effective teachers were undermined by our culture’s Victim Mindset. Incentive programs sprang up only to be ignored by the very kids they’re intended to motivate. Schools began diagnosing “illnesses” instead of equipping and allowing teachers to manage badly behaved kids. Ridalin distribution replaced milk break twenty years ago.

Children need consistency. They need to be taught Absolutes. If you waffle on Right and Wrong in your home, how will you ever explain anything is firm in the real world?

When’s the last time you raged at your boss and got away with it because you’d needed sleep?
How about you accost the mailman and go to court with a teething defense?
Burn down your neighbor's house because you're the middle child. Steal a bicycle and go on a shoplifting spree. Tell the judge your temperament is choleric.
"Boys will be boys" doesn't get early parole for your son, mama.