Parenting is a battlefield

  I have to admit that last night was one of those brutal nights, and no not because of the time change, I'm pretty sure that will be tonight's fun adventure.  Lily kept waking up every other hour for no apparent reason, so I'm going to assume it was just to annoy me because really at this age they are still like Tamagotchis and I did the feed, change, hug routine.  At 5am Dave went to deal with her, as I had already been up multiple times and decided that the best plan at the moment was to play dead.  After 10 minutes I realized that it was quiet and Dave hadn't returned.  I got up to check on him to make sure Lily hadn't, you know, killed him and was discreetly disposing of the body.  I now know why I'm not the family favorite.  Dave was sitting there cuddling Lily in his lap looking half dead while Lily laid there looking smug and victorious.  He told me "She doesn't want to be alone".  Now usually I'm not totally immune to cuteness, but I'm fighting off a cold and Dave has to be somewhere at 8am and by looking at her there is nothing the matter.  I walk into the room like a raging battle axe shoved her a bottle and some gripe water and then tucked her in and turned off the baby monitor.  It dawns on me that I would make a wonderful war-time president.
  You see, parenting is a war with many battles, it truly is the 100 years war (I'm pretty sure if you live to see your child to be 100 you'd still be fighting them over something-probably the last pudding cup).  With this in mind I choose to run my household with an iron fist dictatorship and when the masses rebel it's time for action.  Dave is busy peacefully protesting the war like a hippie sitting around the campfire singing kumbaya and waving a "give peace a chance" sign.  Poor guy is going to get crushed, especially in an all female  household when hormone season hits.  I mean do you want to risk the chance of getting schooled by your kids or even worse turning them into HIPPIES?  Yeah you can give toddlers choices and try to use their creative spirits to nurture them but you might as well tie dye them a shirt, hand them a beanie and give them a recipe for hemp seed cookies.  I know for a fact that it is possible for some parents to be lovely-dovey and still raise kids who are not thugs or tree-huggers but given the genetic makeup of our children, I'm not going to risk it.  My sister is a vegan hipster who just started a blog about her cats, oh mom, mom mom mom-I'm glad you waited 2 years before having me, you were able to perfect your parenting game (BTW check it out http://milo-panda.tumblr.com).

Your kid deserves better than to be a hippy

  See kids are like pets, they need to know their place in the pack.  Parents need to remain the alpha dogs.  I've seen what Dave has done to the cat.  The cat tries to dominate us now because Dave has shown weakness and love.  I've tried reading parenting books and they are perfectly acceptable-that is if you don't mind a two year old making all of your major life decisions.  I'm sure once they are done telling you that they want juice in a red cup they can help you re-mortgage your house and hey if that doesn't work I'm sure there's a hippy commune you can go live at.  I agree-the first 5 years are critical in a kid's life.  They are going to test every single boundary you attempt to put up.  Don't get me wrong I believe in free choice-my rules or you can choose to move out.
They say that kids need freedom and room in order to turn into functioning adults.  However I know given the choice Lily would just as easily eat cat food or stick her tongue in an electric socket over healthy food or playing with her baby Einstein toys.  The same goes for society, yes it sucks that "the man" gives us laws but could you imagine if we left people to their own devices?  We'd have a shortage of cat food and a lot of burnt tongues.  So go ahead, call me a dictator, a war lord but when my daughter is at the Harvard graduation ceremony-supporting her soon to be rich Harvard graduate lawyer husband and your kid is shelling seashells by the seashore we'll just see who gets the last laugh.

My special little POW