Invocation of The Daddy

No one who knows me would ever say I’m easy on my kids. No one. Yet, they behave better for their father.

Do I treat them like Marines or royal subjects? No. I’m a bitch, but they are my children and I love them blah blah blah.

*totally says Blah blah blah*

The Mister’s not always been around and so I’ve had to resort to phones and webcams at times, but even then, they mind him better. OVER THE PHONE.

“…And he’s tickling her and she’s screaming and she runs away and then he swoops her back up and then he tickles her and then she screams again and she runs away and then she runs right back to him! Clearly the baby wants to be tickled! Sassy, take the jump rope off your sister’s waist! Sissy, really! Don’t encourage her! Sissy is not your pony! I don’t care if you mind, I mind! Gonna get rope burn! And now Sassy’s practically force-feeding carrots to Sissy and she’s gonna choke! It’s not funny! SASSY BUTTON MOTTERN, naughty chair! Now! Bubba, SO HELP ME GOD, don’t you dare tickle the pony!…”

To solve this problem on my own, there was only one option, which was to completely freak them out, scare them with my crazed Mama eyes. I’d be crying, laughing, swearing, praying to the ceiling, speaking assorted languages, then I’d middle name them all and send them to their rooms.
I’d done this before, authentically, from exhaustion, and I was so pleased with the resulting scatter of feet down the upstairs hallway, I added it to my repertoire.

For Emergencies Only. Lil silence, lil wine, lil book, tra-la-la!

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The Mister could discipline them OVER THE PHONE.
Just stern, “Son” and “Young Lady” in those fatherly tones and they’d simmer down. Half the time, they’d snivel and return to me with apologies and hugs.

I hated it. So unfair.

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I’ve heard this is because children know their mothers love them unconditionally, and more than anything they crave their fathers’ approval.

I’m just Joey the bad feminist and this is only a blog, BUT —

I’ve noticed that if the kids want somethin about which Daddy isn’t inclined, they come to me like I’m the ambassador of Daddy. They suddenly possess tact and they employ this diplomacy to cultivate my sympathy for their causes.

You know I’m right.

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Boys go about it indirectly.
“I told Dad how I can’t take Missy yet, because I want to keep extra money in savings, and he said ‘That’s too bad, Buddy’ so I guess I’ll just wait and see how it goes.”
GOT IT.

“He’s such a good boy, hardly asks for a thing, we should just pay his pet deposit, make it easier for everyone.”
“Yes. I could do that.”
“Mmmhm, that’d be nice.”

I had less say in the workings of Bubba’s life because I am not a man and I am too soft on the boy.
Again, no one, no one else would ever say I was soft on the boy. He would tell you he had it the worst. He was NOT an easy child. It’s because of him I even developed a lecture series.
Still.

“You never wanted a hair cut at his age, either. Let it be.”
“And my father made me get a haircut and my son’s getting a fucking haircut!”

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The girls have that whole “Daaaddyy” thing down. When “Daaaddyy” followed by a request doesn’t work it triggers an alarm system in their brains.
Mama’s feminine wiles are stronger and since Mama says “It’s only hair,” she’s already on their side, right?
“You know how you say it’s only hair? Can you maybe talka Daddy?”
When it’s the girls, I am not accused of bein too soft. See how that works?

(It may be The Mister has seriously strong opinions about everyone’s hair, now that I think about it. Hmm. Did not see that comin. Writing is important.)

 

Recently, this happened:

“We’re goin to the gym.”
“I’m doin homework.”
“You’re goin to the gym.”
“I have homework.”
“You’re goin to the gym.”
“I have at least seven hours of homework.”
“You lie. Mama Daddy already discussed it and you’re goin to the gym.”

(I lie. Mama and Daddy did not discuss this per se. We agreed she needs to run at least once a week at the gym, because she’s a runner.)

SILENCE. She did not argue. She put her trainers on and scowled at me, but she went to the gym.

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The Mister’s power has grown so strong and his name is so powerful, I can invoke him like a parental deity. I don’t hate it as much as I used to. It’s unfair, but it works.

These people, and I mean all four of these people, have worn me out over the years. Truly, sucked the mercy from my bones like marrow. A mama does what she must.

four.2010

Happy Friday Everyone!

About joey

Neurotic Bitch, Mother, Wife, Writer, Word Whore, Foodie and General Go-To-Girl
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55 Responses to Invocation of The Daddy

  1. Ally Bean says:

    You talk of things I know nothing about as an adult. No children here. But in general I’m of the “whatever works, works” school of thought, so I think that you’re doing a great job of getting these kids “brung up good.” As they used to say where I grew up.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Your children always look so smiley in photos that you must be doing something right! As for using Daddy in your weaponry, I am all for it, whatever works! πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

  3. John Holton says:

    Crazy Mama eyes works all the time. And the middle name thing really shakes ’em up…

    Liked by 1 person

  4. scr4pl80 says:

    I get this. “Go ask your father” sometimes works in my favor and sometimes not. My husband worked odd hours and had some health issues when the kids were growing up so I was the major discipliner in our house as well. To the girls he was mostly conned by the “Daaadddyyy” and to the son he was “That’s MY boy.” Carry on, Joey. You are making it work.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. darsword says:

    I hear ya! Pscho Mom is all they ever hear! Once they grow up and not at home you don’t even have that! What the Hell! Maybe because my older three were boys, but even the word Daddy held no sway. And it is so much worse once you are tireder than the dead. The older two had been hitting on each other all day. I’d finally had it. “Go outside and kill each other!” I said and retreated to the couch. Ten minutes later two boys walked in white as sheets and shaking. “What happened?” I asked assuming Mojave Green Rattlesnakes and cornered them. “We found that we could actually kill each other!” Arguing and bickering continued, but never to physical again. I regret using that tactic, but I had no more brain left that day. We are only Psycho Mom because they train us to get there as it is all that works. Imagine if we had creative children! No wonder I’m a tired retired Mom!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. pluviolover says:

    I enjoy other’s kids more with no moms nearby. They behave much betta’. Years back, in Starbucks with daughter. Her son was giving her fits by being a junior asshat. She tried everything short of abuse.
    I held coffee near me lips, looked him in the eye, and said, “Wanna try that with me?” As the lad completely broke down, I sipped my coffee, looked at daughter, smiled and said, “I still got it.” Now 12, he is still better (more mature with high functioning brain) when no mom in sight.

    Liked by 1 person

    • joey says:

      Don’t they though? Other people’s kids mind me better, too! I think that’s why teaching made it seem like parenthood would be a breeze. (Joke’s on me, but I bet you knew that.) Yeah, you still got it. Keep em walkin that line! πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

  7. “sucked the mercy from my bones like marrow” – YES!! I’ve been a long distance runner and a dancer and I have never, I mean NEVER, been as tired as I have on a daily basis raising my boy. My husband and I joke that he is some kind of “energy vampire” – the more he runs around, hyper, bouncing off the walls, the more tired WE feel, like he draws the energy right from our bodies. And boy, am I with you as far as being the psycho mom with crazy eyes…and I only have one child, not four! πŸ˜€
    I love the last photo of your beautiful, smiley kids!!

    Liked by 1 person

    • joey says:

      Haha, he must be a powerhouse of a kid πŸ˜€ Yes, I do think they suck out energy, and maybe some brain cells, but it’s hard to tell, because just.so.TIRED! My wee one used to scooter and skate around the house like a fiend!
      Keep your crazy eyes fixed, Jen!
      Thank you, I love that photo, too. I like the candids πŸ™‚

      Like

  8. We used to get “wait til your father gets home” or some threatening variation. It worked. My dad was a scary SOB.
    ” Writing is important.” – looking forward to reading future musings on hair.

    Liked by 1 person

    • joey says:

      The Mister’s parents took that whole, “Wait til your father gets home” approach, too. More effective for when fathers come home every night, I suppose.Sorry your dad was scary. I suppose my husband’s scary too, sometimes.
      I think I covered the hair thing before, but you may not have been me reading then.

      Liked by 1 person

  9. Benson says:

    “Wait til your Father gets home!”. I am sure every kid in the country, if not the world, has heard that before. At least the “Baby Boomers”. My Mom said it often but she could swing a mean paddle on her own.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. I tell you surely that you will one day be able to look back on all this and laugh, even at the truth of it and the pain and the weariness. I think it’s like childbirth: you MUST forget to go on living. πŸ™‚ We have two girls and they have that whole opposite-sex-parent-bonding thing going on. Yet for some (many) things, they come to me and I realize that I’m blessed to have a husband who loves and cares for them and me and can take up that slack, even when there are times I want to smack him about the head until he cries. πŸ™‚ I remember days with the girls…. But this too shall pass and they shall be wonderful people and you shall be proud and happy and glad to see them when they come home and glad they’re out living on their own.

    janet

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Dan Antion says:

    My poor mom just had two boys. That meant three people who never listened. She would invoke the β€œYour father” as if he was the alter ego of dad. She could conjure your father but he had been such a troublemaker as a kid that he was hard pressed to follow through.

    Liked by 1 person

  12. Carrie Rubin says:

    It tends to be the opposite with us. My kids could sneak more past their dad and get away with it. His protests weren’t too strong. But a look from me and a tone of voice, and they knew (and still know), I meant business. But there are a few times my husband needed to “get his scary on,” as I like to call it, and man did that work when it needed to. πŸ˜„

    Liked by 1 person

  13. cagedunn says:

    My experience was a few foster kids, mainly teenagers – all well-versed in the art of manipulation and emotional war/blackmail. It took only a short time for them to realise that ‘the look’ would be closely followed by ‘the cost/consequences’ of failure to comply. We also had a list of ‘rules’ – the 3 unbreakable rules, and the millions of others that had to be discussed to enable a bend, break or derailment of that constraint. I’m not sure I survived well, but they all seemed to (and most now have fosters of their own). It’s the toughest experience of all, learning how to deal with emotional manipulation from our offspring.

    Liked by 1 person

  14. Thank goodness for this outlet, Joey, or you really would be stark raving mad!! LOL IF a man would step into a woman’s shoes for ONE day, he couldn’t do it. BIG (((HUGS))) coming your way! I freaking LOVE the way you write! Write to save your sanity!!! πŸ˜‰

    Liked by 1 person

  15. loisajay says:

    It is at times like these that I fall to my knees and thank God my kids are grown up and moved out. πŸ˜€ Whew! Raising kids is no walk in the park.

    Liked by 1 person

  16. I never had to use the phrase “wait till Dad gets home”, which I heard growing up all the time. I don’t remember ever middle-naming them either. (such a great phrase) I think I was determined to do just about everything different than what I saw. I could get to psycho mom when I needed to, but their dad, the strong and silent type, instilled a certain respect/fear in them that I didn’t realize until they grew up and mentioned it. I knew his inner softness. They didn’t see it. So it seemed to work for us in ways we didn’t plan.

    The 4 humans in that photo, smiling, sitting next to each other…so sweet. It is all working for you, Joey.

    Liked by 1 person

    • joey says:

      I love the stories you share ❀
      I get that, about the inner softness they didn't see as you did.
      Thank you, we do have a good time. Even when it's crazy, it's happy. πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

  17. Joanne Sisco says:

    We were 5 kids in our house and my mom never once invoked the ‘wait until your father gets home’ threat. She invoked the bamboo rug beater.

    Not once did she ever use the rug beater on any of us, but we were all sufficiently terrified of the threat that it translated into immediate obedience.

    Now I wonder what happened to that rug beater.

    Liked by 1 person

  18. JT Twissel says:

    Such a sweet group of Lil Devils! Have a great weekend 😎

    Liked by 1 person

  19. Erika says:

    Parental deity, lol! We screwed up somewhere. “Wait until your father hears about this” means nothing in this house. But, yeah, stark raving lunatic works as long as it’s coming from me.

    Liked by 1 person

  20. JoAnna says:

    My dad had the same effect on us as your Mister. I always figured it was because he was in the Marine Corps and not because he was 6’2. He had a quality of depth in his voice.

    Liked by 1 person

  21. marianallen says:

    If Crazy Mama Eyes don’t work. I smile. Apparently, I have a smile that can chill the blood, when coupled with Crazy Mama Eyes.

    Liked by 1 person

  22. Sometimes the dad thing works and sometimes it doesn’t. I do bring their dad in to phone call/text when I’m going crazy….other times, I just hide in the closet and tell myself “this too shall pass”.

    Liked by 1 person

  23. You all are such happy people. ❀

    Liked by 1 person

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