We don’t have rules in our house. I didn’t have any rules growing up, at least not that I remember, so maybe that’s why I’m so anti-rule now. We all do what we want, and as long as we’re all responsible about things and happy and kind and all that bullshit, then we’ll all go on doing whatever it is we want to do. That to me seems a lot more conducive to a happy house than, say, Rule #1: Men Clean The Toilets, which actually isn’t a bad rule, I guess (since I am not a man, after all), but eh, they’re just toilets. Having rules about toilets seems kind of silly. Although it does give new meaning to the term “throne.”
Anyway, so we’re mostly rule-free here. It is rarely a struggle to put LG down to bed at 6pm, so we’re not in need of bed-time rules yet, and Chris and I impose no rules on one another. If the dishes need washing, we wash them, regardless of who cooked and if the laundry needs laundering, well, I do it, but mostly because I like to, like the neat-freak I am. It’s come to my attention, though, that our house could use one major rule.
House Rule #Only: No Kids On The Couch Without A Parent
House Rule #Only, Sub-Rule A: No Standing On The Couch Ever, Even If A Parent Is There
A couple months ago, we were really struggling with the parenting of our lovely offspring because none of us knew what the other was saying, like, ever. Anytime LG was awake, she was yelling or crying because she wanted something, but we had no clue what. So, we ended up basically giving her whatever would make her happy. This was probably the wrong thing to do, I guess, but when you only spend a collective five or six hours with your kid during the week, you want those hours to be happy. So, if it made her happy to crawl around on the couch, or stand on it, or FLING HERSELF OFF OF IT (actually, that did not make her happy), then so be it. Go at it, kid.
Fast-forward a couple months and we’re finally to the point where she can understand us and we can…understand her…more than we did…I guess, and the point is, there’s about 100 times more communication than there was a few months ago, during CouchGate. Now when she stands on the couch, I yell, over and over, “On your tushie! On your tushie!” and eventually she’ll sit down. Mostly, she’ll just laugh maniacally. But whatever.
It is because I do not like yelling (and also because I do not like being worried that she’s going to swan-dive off the couch AGAIN) that I instituted our newest only house rule, as seen above. I don’t know if this is a good or recommended parenting tactic or not, but me removing her off the couch every time she’s on it (without a parent) seems better than yelling, “ON YOUR TUSHIE!” every three seconds. Since she’s pretty easily redirected (“Not on the couch! Let’s go look out the WINDOW!”) I’m hoping she just forgets about the couch eventually. I am crossing my fingers.
Meanwhile, snuggling under a fuzzy blanket to watch a movie is always okay. Even if it only lasts for two seconds.
Callum still hasn’t stopped walking on the couch and it drives me INSANE. Also he’s old enough that redirection doesn’t really work when he really wants to do something. And, last week he actually fell off the arm of the couch and landed on his face, and even THAT hasn’t deterred him.
I feel your pain, is my point. He does eventually listen but not before I have several minor heart attacks, and even after he listens he just does it again, so it’s a never ending battle.