Parenting DIY - Someone Is Going to End Up Going Blind

There are very few projects I love more than a good knockoff, DIY. I mean, I love finding life hacks and tricks that make life easier. Oh, and the total elation at recreating an expensive, store-bought item for half the price. Pinterest simply feeds my life hack obsession. However, there is a side of me that shares the underpinnings of the Steel Magnolias/Truvy philosophy: "I don't trust anyone who does her own hair. I don't think it's natural." Basically, there are just some things you have to pay full price for and leave to the professionals. There is no life hack for quality hair cuts, your health, and a string of pearls. Always wear real pearls. And now I have one more item to add to the list - parenting. I should really stop trying to DIY parent and leave this job to the professionals. My child is like a Pinterest fail waiting to happen.

So lately my kid has been sneaking and eating food. Mostly, I've caught her hiding and eating crackers in her room. Just the other day she came running through the living room with a chocolate pudding and I told her to haul her butt to the fridge and put it back. When she didn't return for a few minutes and it was totally silent, I knew she was up to something.

Me: Charley Thomas you best not be eating that pudding. 

Charley: (Utensils hit the floor, I hear the fridge door slam. Sounds of panic. She comes running into the room with chocolate all over her mouth and hands raised to show surrender). I'm sorry. Just punish me, momma. (Sobbing). I'm so sorry. I couldn't help it. It is just so yummy. Spank me. Give me timeout. I'm sorry. I ate the pudding. I did it. I had to. It was yummy....

And this is clearly where we should call A&E and host an intervention. Obviously THAT had to be her rock bottom. But while I tried to scour the Internet to research and find a way to approach this issue so that she isn't left breathing into a paper bag and twitching every time she sees a Snakpak, she had a few more incidents.

I went to eat dinner with some friends and Gary was left in charge. He allowed her to have ONE FiberOne Brownie and then he went off to work on his MMA radio show leaving the little angel alone in the living room. Three FiberOne Brownies later, my kid is a full fledge fiber addict and living in the bathroom. 

At that point we sat her down and had some real talk about what she was doing. Recalling a story some friends told me about having their children eat soap when they lied, I was inspired. So I made THE THREAT. If she was going to hide and sneak snacks, she was going to get a little Dial for dessert every time. Her eyes bugged and she expressed sincerely how disgusting that would be. Feeling really good about this approach, I felt, for once, I was a step ahead in the parenting game. And cue the face-plant. 

Last night Gary and I welcomed three extra kiddos into our home while their parents headed out for a date. Charley LOVED having other kids over, but kept tripping over her deeply engrained only-child tendencies (sometimes literally). Periodically through the night we had to remind her to 'go play' and 'wait on the others' which just made her finale all the more obnoxious. Gary ran out to grab some milk (we were clearly NOT prepared to bring little ones into our home) and he bought some gum for the two older girls. He gave Charley the two packs and told her to share. Later when our friends arrived to gather their herd, we reminded Charley to make sure Haddy had her gum. It was no where to be found. Of course, Gary and I both immediately turned to our kid. When asked where the gum was, she grinned, shrugged and looked shamefully away. Did you eat Haddy's gum? No answer. She was sent to her room to be dealt with after our friends left.

Gary lectured her and silenced all of her excuses and pleas, while I went to get the soap. I opted for a homemade variety (ummmm, not because I am fanatical about chemicals and such...I mean, I am, it wasn't main motivation. That was just the ONLY bar soap we had on hand). So with the drama one can expect from a kid who sobs uncontrollably when the puppies struggle to save Christmas in Santa Paws, we finally got the soap in her mouth. There was crying and pleading and gagging and spitting. Lord, the overly dramatic gagging. We eventually got a full minute of soap time and sent her off to brush her teeth and go to bed. As I was tucking her in she whimpered, "I just keep tasting soap. I thought you were just kidding about the soap, momma." As pitiful as she sounded, I just patted her head and told her "Momma, is never playing around."

Walking away I felt like THIS may actually have impacted her. The follow-through on the soap seemed just horrific enough to possibly make her think about this whole food-sneaking habit. Of course, she could always just get more elaborate in her schemes: cutting the pages out of a Bible to hide her flask of Kool-Aid, wall safes full of SnakPak's hidden behind her Crayola masterpieces...actually, we better start patting her down before she leaves the house. 

As I sat on the couch this morning feeling that all is well with the world. My house is clean. My little family is peacefully snoozing away in the other room. I have clearly figured out the perfect deterrent to my daughter's food issues. I mean, who needs to consult a professional - I obviously have ALL the answers. Parent Magazine should call me any minute. I went to finish up some laundry when my foot kicked something from under the couch.

Shit.

That package of gum we accused my daughter of eating? That pack of gum we made her eat soap for? That gum that was the catalyst for solving my child's food-sneaking problem and thereby, confirming that I am Super mom?

There it was. Still completely in its wrapper. Untouched. Not inhaled by my kid.

She was telling the truth. She, in fact, didn't eat all the gum. She only chewed two pieces of her own gum. She ate soap for nothing. I practically started sharing Ralphie's daydream about my kid going blind from a childhood soap-eating encounter.

So, I give up. Despite my dreams of DIY-ing and hacking my way through life, I need to keep my shortcuts limited to Ikea furniture and semi-homemade desserts.  I need to leave motherhood to the professionals...well, I shouldat least start a second job to afford to get my kid in real, professional counseling.