The Definition of Insanity
Repeating the same action over and over again and expecting different results.
This theory is easily applicable to every day life.
For instance, downing 2-3 Willy's burritos per week will not encourage my weight loss. Even if I did talk a stroll around the block this morning.
Another example, the Yoys at their school's weekly Shabbat service from 12:15-12:45.
Yes, I'm aware it is only 30 minutes. Surely my kids could keep their sh*t together for 30 minutes. Guess again.
I actually stopped going at some point during the year because they were both so disruptive.
Then I started creeping in the back of the room a few minutes after Shabbat started so I could observe Big E. The amazing thing is, when I'm not there, he sits comfortably in his teacher's lap and is a perfect angel. What in the hell?
Today, I sent Little E to school, which I don't normally do, but I needed a few hours to myself. I arrived for Shabbat, but the Yoys weren't in the room yet.
I grabbed a chair and waited for them. Big E ran in first.
MAMA! MAMA!
What a greeting! He ran over and put his head in my lap.
Next came Little E, or as Mr. Yoy and I refer to him, Big Baby. Think, the big baby doll from Toy Story 3. This is Little E. All he says is MAMA over and over again.
In ran Little E. His face erupted into a huge smile when he saw me. He started running. MAMA! MAMA! MAMA!
They both tried to climb up into my lap, it was then that I made a deadly mistake. I moved to the floor.
First, they fought over how much room each had in my lap.
Big E soon moved onto practicing his gymnastics moves in a very tight space. Oh yes, please excuse Mary Lou Retton, he feels the need to do a somersault right now. I grab his flailing feet to prevent any injuries.
The remainder of the program consists of the two of them running back and forth across the room, wrestling, tackling, yelling, and just being horribly disruptive.
I whispered in my meanest Mrs. Yoy hiss:
IF YOU DON'T SIT DOWN RIGHT NOW WE ARE LEAVING!
Big E looked right through me. Like I was dead. He continued on his tyrant.
Again, I told him we were going to leave. Another teacher asked him to sit down. I had had enough.
I checked my watch. Twelve more minutes of this if we stay. I called it. I got up and walked out.
Big Baby followed me immediately. MAMA! MAMA! MAMA! I strode down the hall.
Big E followed in tears.
I WANT TO PLAY WITH MY FRIENDS! I WANT TO STAY!
I was raging mad. I was so frustrated. I know he is only three, but good lord, why can't he listen? Just once?
I headed for the doors with the two whiners. Big E didn't follow me into the parking lot. He stood in front of school.
FINE. STAY. I'M LEAVING.
He began crying. I grabbed his hand and got them both into the car.
I WANT TO WATCH TV!
Yeah, right. I'm so mad, you'll be lucky if you get dinner! (I thought to myself but didn't say that one aloud).
On the way home, he apologized profusely. He announced he wanted to take a nap. He peppered me with questions.
I stayed silent. I was literally too angry to talk to him.
I know that this is a common complaint from parents, but I am feeling defeated. How do you get them to listen? I'm seriously going to lose my damn mind.
This theory is easily applicable to every day life.
For instance, downing 2-3 Willy's burritos per week will not encourage my weight loss. Even if I did talk a stroll around the block this morning.
Another example, the Yoys at their school's weekly Shabbat service from 12:15-12:45.
Yes, I'm aware it is only 30 minutes. Surely my kids could keep their sh*t together for 30 minutes. Guess again.
I actually stopped going at some point during the year because they were both so disruptive.
Then I started creeping in the back of the room a few minutes after Shabbat started so I could observe Big E. The amazing thing is, when I'm not there, he sits comfortably in his teacher's lap and is a perfect angel. What in the hell?
Today, I sent Little E to school, which I don't normally do, but I needed a few hours to myself. I arrived for Shabbat, but the Yoys weren't in the room yet.
I grabbed a chair and waited for them. Big E ran in first.
MAMA! MAMA!
What a greeting! He ran over and put his head in my lap.
Next came Little E, or as Mr. Yoy and I refer to him, Big Baby. Think, the big baby doll from Toy Story 3. This is Little E. All he says is MAMA over and over again.
In ran Little E. His face erupted into a huge smile when he saw me. He started running. MAMA! MAMA! MAMA!
They both tried to climb up into my lap, it was then that I made a deadly mistake. I moved to the floor.
First, they fought over how much room each had in my lap.
Big E soon moved onto practicing his gymnastics moves in a very tight space. Oh yes, please excuse Mary Lou Retton, he feels the need to do a somersault right now. I grab his flailing feet to prevent any injuries.
The remainder of the program consists of the two of them running back and forth across the room, wrestling, tackling, yelling, and just being horribly disruptive.
I whispered in my meanest Mrs. Yoy hiss:
IF YOU DON'T SIT DOWN RIGHT NOW WE ARE LEAVING!
Big E looked right through me. Like I was dead. He continued on his tyrant.
Again, I told him we were going to leave. Another teacher asked him to sit down. I had had enough.
I checked my watch. Twelve more minutes of this if we stay. I called it. I got up and walked out.
Big Baby followed me immediately. MAMA! MAMA! MAMA! I strode down the hall.
Big E followed in tears.
I WANT TO PLAY WITH MY FRIENDS! I WANT TO STAY!
I was raging mad. I was so frustrated. I know he is only three, but good lord, why can't he listen? Just once?
I headed for the doors with the two whiners. Big E didn't follow me into the parking lot. He stood in front of school.
FINE. STAY. I'M LEAVING.
He began crying. I grabbed his hand and got them both into the car.
I WANT TO WATCH TV!
Yeah, right. I'm so mad, you'll be lucky if you get dinner! (I thought to myself but didn't say that one aloud).
On the way home, he apologized profusely. He announced he wanted to take a nap. He peppered me with questions.
I stayed silent. I was literally too angry to talk to him.
I know that this is a common complaint from parents, but I am feeling defeated. How do you get them to listen? I'm seriously going to lose my damn mind.
Stamped on my forehead.
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