I was on the phone this weekend with my good friend, Paola; we studied together in Florence, Italy, when we were juniors in college. Paola's one of those people who always has the craziest stories. Her latest: Her two-year-old, Jeremy, refused to get dressed the other morning. So she drove him to preschool naked, she told me.
"You mean you put him in the car seat with just his diaper on?" I asked.
"No, Ellen. He was BUTT naked," she said. "When I showed up at the preschool, the teacher didn't even blink, it was like she sees naked kids coming to school all the time."
Desperate parenting. I have so been there, those times when you do whatever you have to do with your kids just to get by. I have changed Max in the trunk of our SUV in a parking lot. I have shoveled food into his mouth while standing in a car dealership's lot (it distracted him). My latest desperate parenting ploy involves Sabrina's preschool teachers, Marybeth and Louise. When Sabrina's having an on-the-floor meltdown, I'll say to her, "Sabrina, do you want me to tell Marybeth and Louise how you're acting?" And she'll stop throwing herself and sniffle, "Nooooooo." I saw Marybeth the other day, and 'fessed up. She laughed. She said it was OK to invoke her name, but also suggested I could say, "Now, how would Marybeth and Louise respond if you did that?" Me, I still prefer the outright threat.
What sort of desperate parenting measures have you guys resorted to lately?
Oh, and in case you're wondering what I've decided to do about the exercise thing, I'm looking into the running program Julia O'C suggested, Couch to 5K. Stay tuned! Maybe a few of us could do it all together? Maybe after Halloween?!
