Bad Parenting 101

I don't like to think that I am a bad parent. But I am.

I don't like to portray myself as a bad parent. But I am going to.*

I use scare tactics to curb my child from killing herself, or making an ass of herself, or just plain out irritating me, whichever the case may be. There, I said it.

And I feel so much better.

Okay, not really. (Not really, about the feeling better part, I still have all of my own guilt, you know, and I am probably gonna own that until the day I die.)

Now, back to the scare tactics. I say things like,

"Everytime you make that screaming noise, you are killing Bambi"

or

"One day you will be so big that when you jump on my bed, you will hit the ceiling and we will have to replace the ceiling because you left all of your blood on it. Do you know how much a ceiling costs?"

or

"If Mommy can't get privacy to go to the bathroom in peace, then I will move in with you when you get married." (She is obsessed with marriage and husbands and babies, it feels a little abnormal for a 3 year old).

I potty trained her by traumatizing her with the very real threat of throwing her big girl panties in the trash when she would have an accident.

I am unsure what is going on here. One flip-flop, a piece of pizza, chocolate on the face. I am a bad mother. 

Sometimes, when I am tired of her rough housing, when I have told her to stop repeatedly, and then she hits me in the face (again) or tries to choke me (again), I will "die". I will lay on the bed or floor, close my eyes and not respond to her pleading for me to get up, please wake up. One time, she tired to cover up what she had done by placing a blanket over me and sitting on me so that Hubs wouldn't find me. Another time, I heard her go in the kitchen, nonchalantly report my death to the Hubs, and then ask for an apple, like it was just another day.

There are times when her tantrums are too big for us to both be in the house, and I walk out onto the porch to get away from her.

There are times that I give in to the tantrums because it is too cold or I am too tired to fight anymore. And she wins.

Which makes the next battle even harder.

There are times when she trips and falls, and I laugh because I have warned her and threatened her and she has to learn (that falling is pretty darn funny! oh, and that her momma is always right).

There are are times when I have stood up, turned off the TV, turned off all of the lights in the house (with her behind me every step, screaming her head off) and crawled into my bed as though I have not heard any of the screaming, pleading, foot stomping or felt any of the angry little fists or kicks, because I just couldn't take anymore.

I have not put aside a single penny for her college education. Firstly, because there are no scholarships for retirement and I would really like to do that some day, secondly, because the scondary degree (while expensive) really does not offer a student the type of guarantees that it used to and lastly, because no matter how smart you are, how high in your class you are, we are all doing the same thing after graduation: working to pay for our cars, our kids, our houses and our retirements. As long as she grows up to find contentment in life, I am happy.

Yeah, I am a bad parent, but at least I make you feel good about your parenting.

And I guess it could be worse.

* Please don't send DCFS to my door. That's my biggest fear in life, that someone would take my child away from me, which may be why blogging about my frustrations is the healthier alternative.