Dramatic Play

I read this parenting e-magazine last night to get advice on dealing with two whiny drama queens (one in training, learning from the master who should have received an Oscar nomimination for her evening performance). It was so bad that at one point I had to leave the room before my ears bled and I was overcome by a tantrum I could only have stopped with huge quantities of wine or chocolate.

The article, 8 Parenting Mistakes Parents Make, (I know. I'm a glutten for punishment. As if I don't generate enough guilt on my own.) says don't lie to your child if she doesn't want to do something. Instead, sympathize by saying, "sometimes I don't want to go to work." Well, I never lied to my child. I just yelled that we'd be here all night at this rate, and then I wanted to burst into tears. So did she. But then I thought about it. What does it do to the child whose stay-at-home-mom just said, "sometimes I don't want to go to work?" Hmm. Therapy later in life, I guess. But I'll try it tonight. She's going to need therapy anyway. And we still have a mountain of homework after missing school for the California trip.

The drama has to stop! I want to write that sentiment on a sign and picket in front of her door, but she claims she can't read yet.

I thought I would sign Maisey up for theater classes, but I decided I don't want to encourage it. We spent two and a half gruelling hours doing homework last night (and we didn't finish), because drama queen performed a complete three act tragedy about everything from missing Daddy (who's in China) to missing out playing with Alex (who just went home after playing at our house for 3 hours), to my being a Mean Mama (vilified for wanting my child to be literate). What's funny is, well, nothing is funny. This is like nails on a chalkboard. I really would rather be pulled by wild horses than help with first grade homework.