This is the problem with multiple choice -- I can't possibly think of all the superpowers possible. Which means, of course, that this gives you the opportunity to leave a comment with any power I may have forgotten!
Can't wait to hear from you!
From an article on parentdish.com:
(Video may not be appropriate for young viewers.)
"JCPenney's has jumped onto the 'sex sells' bandwagon, trying to update their image to attract a younger crowd. But here's what I'm wondering: The commercial clearly pokes fun at the trusting mom who sits upstairs reading her magazine while the kids 'go downstairs to watch TV.'
"At the same time, it's sending a message to teen customers that today is the day to have sex with your boyfriend, right under your mom's nose. The thing is, that mom in the commercial likely makes up the majority of JCPenney's customer base. How are moms who are loyal to this classic and formerly pretty wholesome brand going to feel about this commercial that encourages their teens to break parental rules and engage in risky behavior? Betrayed? Angry? Suddenly not so spendy?It seems like a big risk to take to me.
"As it turns out, everyone, JCPenney did not authorize this ad. (Let's let out a collective whew.) There's a lot of finger pointing going on right now; JCPenney is blaming its ad company Saatchi & Saatchi, who in turn is blaming the production company Epoch films. According to Gawker, the commercial won an award at the Cannes Lions Awards this past weekend. Penney's chief marketing officer has been quoted as saying, 'It's obviously inappropriate and nothing we would ever condone.'"
What do you think?
Do your kids argue?
Never mind -- because I don't want to hear it if they don't. I once asked that to a mom at playgroup and she looked at me in disgust. "No," she answered, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "My kids always get along." Was she kidding? Were they robots or something?
So let me rephrase the question: What do your kids argue about? Mine have been arguing about everything lately. Maybe because school's out and they're bored. And it's always about something really stupid.
As soon as they wake up they're fighting over who gets in the bathroom first or about where they're going to sit at the breakfast table. Then it's the "I want the United States place mat" or "I had the pink cup first" arguments. And it's not even 8 o'clock yet. Can't I at least get a cup of coffee first?
But it continues through the day. The formula is usually that Volcano will tease Monkey with a distinct note of sarcasm (which, I have to admit, he gets from his parents) and with the direct goal of upsetting her. Like he'll say, "Oh, the doctor called, and he said you're allergic to waffles. So I guess you're not eating breakfast!" Then Monkey will howl in protest -- not understanding his twisted sense of humor -- and the fight begins.
It seems to escalate even more when I am on the telephone, as if a bell rings to signal the beginning of a new boxing round. When I say, "Hello?" the round has begun, and they're fighting over which plastic golf club they want or what DVD they're going to watch.
Usually, when I've finally reached my limit, I'll send them both to their rooms. I don't care who was "right" or who was "first" or whose turn it was. All I want is quiet.
Then there's silence. Beautiful silence, with a few sniffles here and there. I think I can even hear crickets chirping. And then Volcano usually calls down to me, timidly from his room, "Mommy? I want to play with Sister."
"What?" I sigh in disbelief. Every time, I'm still caught by surprise. Wasn't this the same person you were just yelling at? "But then you guys are just arguing the whole time," I reply from downstairs. "It makes Mommy very tired."
Silence again, as if the logic needs to be mulled over. Ahhh... sweet silence. Then Monkey usually adds sweetly, "But I love my brother," and my heart just melts. Every time. I even scold myself, as I let them out of their rooms with a stern look of warning, Sucker...
But... who can argue with that?
Here we go again... only this time, the question actually has to do with parenting!
The question of the week is: How do you discipline?
You can choose more than one choice if you wish, because I know I use a lot of different things. And please leave a comment... I am very interested to read this discussion. Especially if you choose "other." We could all use some tips! You can even be anonymous if you wish.
“I want my children to have all the things I couldn't afford. Then I want to move in with them.”
-- Phyllis Diller
Note: This makes the third time Ms. Diller has appeared in our Mommy Quote of the Week posts! Congratulations! (Like she's reading...)
Hubby and I were at the park with some friends the other day, watching all of our kids play. There came a point when Volcano was pretending to be a dragon, growling at the other kids with imaginary fire while the children returned with mock fear. He was having a blast. One of his friends tackled him to the ground, and they wrestled playfully.
"That okay?" Hubby asked. Hubby didn't know all of the kids as well as I did. We both have agreed that friendly wrestling is okay as long as you know the other kid, because then everybody knows their limits.
"Yeah," I returned casually. "That's his friend Sam." The were gently rolling around on the grass, and I was actually glad to see Volcano in such active play, really being a BOY. It's just been the past year that he's become more of a rough and tumble kind of guy.
"Who's that?" Hubby asked, as another boy joined the pile.
"That's Jack," I said, barely noticing. "He's okay too."
The play continued until some random boy in a white t-shirt and camouflage pants ran up to Volcano, grabbed him by the face, and then slammed him to the ground. "HEY!" I bellowed, getting up out of my seat. "CUT THAT OUT!"
Hubby got up too. "We don't know him?"
"No!" I shouted, as Volcano came over to us, crying. He had a red hand print on his face, and he was visually upset. "Hey, you! Little boy!" I called. "Yeah, you in the white t-shirt! Come here!"
So file this under T.M.I.: in a recent article, Angelina Jolie raves about the joys of pregnancy. "It's great for the sex life," she said. "It just makes you a lot more creative. So you have fun, and as a woman you're just so round and full."
Blech. Do I really need to hear that? And how is this "news"?
But what really chaps my hide is when she describes how she's going to handle her new additions to the family. When asked how she and "partner" Brad Pitt plan to handle six young children, Jolie said: "We really don't know. His mom and dad are on standby to come out and help. And fortunately we can hire help if we need it..."
That reminds me... have you ever seen the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show on TV, or the movie Best in Show? Dogs are bred from a very young age to perform in these shows and to win prizes. And everyone has a different job to raise and care for these dogs. One person reproduces the puppies while someone else raises them, then someone else shows them.
Isn't that what Jolie and Pitt are doing? Handing off the duties of raising a child after it comes out of the birth canal? So... she's really not a mother! She's a breeder! And parading them in front of the public is just another dog show!
It's time for another Saturday Survey! Answer the poll to the right and then leave a comment to explain. Come on... it'll take 2 minutes!
There's a story of a man who came home from work and found his three children outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn all around the front yard. The door of his wife's car was open, as was the front door to the house and there was no sign of the dog.
Proceeding into the entry, he found an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug was wadded against one wall. In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a cartoon channel, and the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing.
In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door. He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that something serious had happened.
He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom door. As he peered inside he found wet towels, scummy soap and more toys strewn over the floor. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared over the mirror and walls.
As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife still curled up in the bed in her pajamas, reading a novel. She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went.
He looked at her bewildered and asked, "What happened here today?"
She again smiled and answered, "You know every day when you come home from work and you ask me what in the world I do all day?''
"Yes," was his incredulous reply.
She answered, "Well, today I didn't do it."
(Thanks to Ali for this internet find.)