How to Discipline Your Mom

Definition of Passive Aggressive:  indirect resistance to the demands of others and an avoidance of direct confrontation.  A defense mechanism that allows people who aren't comfortable being openly aggressive get what they want under the guise of still trying to please others. They want their way, but they also want everyone to still like them. 

And for those of you who think visually, here is an example that I found in our office this week:

Just in case this isn't clear: This is a handmade drawing of me with and X through it.  Under it, are words just in case I wasn't clear: "No Mom" and in case I wasn't sure which mom it was: "Joy."  Clearly this should be in the dictionary under "Passive Aggressive."

The culprit?  I am such a sleuth, here is how I figured it out: Aiden would tell me this to my face.  If you want further insight into this, please look up "Aggressive."  Jacob would never dare do this or say it to my face.  Please look up "first born" or "pleaser."  That leaves Jeb.  Oh, Jeb is so sweet isn't he?  He would never?!  Well, beside eliminating his brothers, the backwards 'y' gives it away.  (Thank you to our impressive public school system - you're teaching handwriting just brilliantly!).  Jeb is a classic example of the kids who just can't be mad to your face but he'll let you know in a letter or a drawing. And when I told him I was going to draw him a picture on the chalkboard since he was so good, you should have seen his face!  He sprinted to the office and I caught him mid-erase.  

I guess I should have never taken that tablet away this week.  You see, it's MY fault that he had to draw this...

Twelve Years and Counting...

January the eighth has come and gone.  It's a pretty significant date for me - the day I became a mom. Jacob turned 12 this year and it was the first time I looked at him and realized that he's not little.  Worse yet, I suddenly realized that I've only got 6 years left until he's gone.  Now, gone may not be the right word.  What I mean is that he's leaving for college in 6 years.  My time with him is more than half over and I can't believe it.

Let's back pedal a bit to explain how this thought popped into my head.  His birthday was on a Thursday.  School was back in session and to be honest, the day before had been terrible (school stuff that I'd rather not remember).  He and I celebrated over a cinnamon roll in the wee hours of the morning before school and before the rest of the house was up.  He came home and went to soccer practice and we were ready for him when he got back.  Dinner in the dining room on fine china while we ate his requested meal (enchiladas) and substituted millionaire bars for birthday cake, per his request.  He hadn't asked for much, so he was really surprised when he opened a Swiss Army Knife.  This wasn't your typical knife.  This was a well thought out knife.  A knife that was purchased in Switzerland seven years earlier.  I remember the day clearly- I stayed at the hotel with three napping boys while Tom went to buy three knives - all engraved with the date: 08.04.08.  I remember thinking that it would take forever to give the first of the three knives  - 13 years old was a long time away (I guess we couldn't wait!).  The reality of it was that Switzerland felt like just a minute ago.  But, that was seven years ago and now I've only got 6 years left - only a second really.

Switzerland 2008

Wisconsin 2015 and The Knife!

Jacob choose to not have a birthday party this year due to the school issue mentioned before.  A harsh punishment that I felt terrible about, but it was his choice of punishment.  I felt that he hadn't cemented his new friendships and a party would be nice.  This is the guilt of motherhood and the reality of following through on decisions.  Turns out we did have a big birthday dinner, but on accident!

Steakhouse Burger as big as your head!

About a week after his birthday, the younger boys had a Friday night church event so we took Jacob out to dinner - he didn't want to go.  We found this place called Jakes, which was perfect cause of the name and from the outside it looked like the kind of place we'd go to with my grandparents when I was little.  Cozy.  We opened the door and discovered this was a steakhouse!  Everyone was dressed up and I was in my wellies and Jacob in his soccer jacket (I can't remember what Tom was in, must have been better than us!).  Anyway, they handed us the menu and my face must have said it all cause Tom gave me the look that said, "don't worry about the price and don't make Jacob feel bad."  In the end, I settled down and we had a great steak dinner, totaling $200 for the three of us (yikes!).  Better memories than a party at Dave and Busters with friends that he won't remember in ten years.  Better lesson for a mom who wants to cherish the next six...