The Mother Ship Has Landed

Confession: Let's just say that sometimes slightly unorthodox parenting tactics work best for me.

This morning my daughter did not want to get dressed. This is not unusual. I deal with the dressing fight an average of four times a week. This morning however was special. Not the good kind of special either. This morning it was five degrees outside. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. I also had an errand to run and an appointment to keep. Dressing this morning was non-negotiable. My little daughter number two did not apparently get the memo.

The typical battle ensued. The kicking, the screaming, the running away and hiding. I'm no fool. I know all about picking your battles. Some days the exhausted, overstressed, mommy in me will let it slide. I'll coddle and coo and coax, and after a long, long, long, long time, victory is achieved- usually. But this morning I was cold and tired and frustrated. And so, in a particularly stellar parenting moment, I pulled out of the mommy arsenal one of my most outlandish mommyisms ever. I told my my child, my impressionable four year old daughter, that if she did not comply with my demand to put on her tights at that very moment, aliens were going to come and take mommy back to their planet to live with them. I even went so far as to explain that this is how the term "mother-ship" was coined. Yes, coined as a result of all of the mommy's abducted and hauled off to parts unknown by aliens. Hauled off all because they had wild and defiant preschoolers who refused to get dressed in the morning! I could hardly believe it myself. Aliens? Aliens? Has it really come to this? Apparently it has.

We don't have to recount all of the ways in which that was wrong. I already realize the potential for disaster that I unleashed. The proverbial Pandora's Box that I had opened. For one thing, I could have shot myself in the foot by instilling a life long fear in her that my well being was a direct result of her actions. Not to mention I could have really screwed things up by giving her a year's worth of nightmares about aliens landing on our rooftop and toting mommy away while she stands by helplessly, tights in hand, pleading for one more chance. I know. I'm horrible. But before you fret too much, before you do what you always do when you read something I've written about my awesome parenting techniques (speed dial social services), let me tell you this; the girl did not scream, she did not cry, she did not shake in fear. She simply said "mommy there's no such thing as aliens". I didn't even dare get into that one. At that point I did not care. I did not care because she spoke those words, looked up at me with her sweet little smile and she put on her tights. And out the door we went.

Feel free to call on me for more helpful pointers.