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I say “no” quite a bit.

I mean, a lot.

Like, I say “no” like a Valley girl says “like”.  Oy!

I say it more than I’d like to, really, but sometimes, it just has to be done.  I don’t think I’ll ever be the kind of parent who let’s their kids have a free-for-all for a day when all she says is “yes”.  I tried that once and by the time the breakfast dishes had been cleared and put away, I had developed a nervous tic in my eye and was in serious need of some anti-hypertensives.

It’s not that I’m trying to be the next Mommie Dearest. I just like to have things a certain way. I want my children to behave a certain way, which basically boils down to acting like civilized human beings who have some semblance of home training. 

I toss out the word “no” like Paula Deen adds butter to a recipe.  I’m not afraid to be embarassed in a public place.  I’ve been that mom, the one whose kids are crying in hysterically in the shopping cart because they’ve just been told they can’t have Frosted Fruity Lucky Pebbly Charms with the toy surprise inside. But of course, to Mr. and Mrs. Public, they just see me pushing the cart while my kids are red-faced, snot-nosed misfits in need of a parent with a firm hand and no fear of setting boundaries.  I want to say, “Look lady, two aisles ago, it was all peace, love, and rainbows.  They wanted the cereal, I said ‘Not today,’ and all hell broke loose.”  It wasn’t like I was doing a Rumplestiltskin impression in the paper products aisle shouting, “No, no, no, no!” all the while.  I will admit, though, there are times when I wonder how that would go over instead of my even toned negative response and attempts to redirect the conversation.  I have to believe that if I went all Rumplestiltskin, they’d snap to real quick. 

In an ideal world, I’m the adult, what I say goes. I make the rules and they get followed. I’m the big cheese, you know, all of those parental adages that all equate to the same thing — “Because I said so,” and it’s all firmly ensconced in their wee little brains causing them to tow the party line. 

I say “no” when I’m trying to prevent my children from coming to bodily harm. I say “no” when I’m trying to keep them from turning into zombies after they’ve already watched an hour (cough::two::cough) of tv and are begging for more. I say “no” when they’re trying to wear shorts and tank tops when the temperature is calling for 50 degrees and fog, despite the fact that it is indeed spring.   I say “no” because I’m doing it for their own good. 

Oy, I went there. 

The thing is, though, I don’t like saying “no”.  It’s so negative.  Add to the fact that most of time, I say “no” and they keep on doing whatever it is they’re doing.  So the “no” becomes “No” with a captial “N” before it goes into a full blown, “NO!” whereupon my eys get big, my eyebrows scale up my face and rest in my hairline, and the cord in my neck makes an appearance.  Funny enough, my voice drops several octaves.  It was never more apparent to me at how much I say “no” than when the giels started singing this song and substituted my voice during one of the lyrics.  

A little backstory: on the kids radio station, there’s a song called “Highway 40”.  The folks that are singing it, Freddie Prinze and his puppet sidekick, sing the lyric, “I’m going down Highway 40 in my big ol’ pick-up truck.”  That’s the entirety of the song. The hook is that they sing the lyrics in different voices every time.  For instance, they’ll say, “Let’s sing it like monsters!” or “Let’s sing it like old ladies!” or my favorite, “Let’s sing it like Tom Brokaw!” Classic.  

In any event, the girls were at dinner and decided to give it a go.  They did it like monsters, like fish, like Dracula, like Scottish people (Mo’s idea) and like French people.  Then Mo said, “Let’s sing it like Mom when she’s angry!” which basically sounded like the monster version with a few “no’s” sprinkled in.  

Ouch. 

I’m afraid all of the girls’ childhood memories will be of me like some kind of suburban Kali, each of my eight arms wielding some kind of time sucking device like an iPhone, Starbucks cup, Chipotle bag, and so on, with a big, fat cartoon bubble of the word “NO” floating out of my mouth.  I can’t have that on my conscience.

So, I’m trying to  avoid using “no” and contractions like “don’t,” “can’t”, “won’t” and the like.  Believe me, this is not easy, so hard.  A self imposed no-ratorium!  If I have to put the kibosh on something like why we have to eat the dinner I’ve made instead of having sushi or pizza or anything other than what I’m serving up, I’m trying to say things like, “Maybe next time,” or “Let me think about it.”  I call it purposeful vagueness and have added a few other gems to this collection

1. “How about in a few minutes?”
2. “Maybe in a little while.”
3. “As soon as I’m done here, we’ll talk about it.”
4. “I’ll see what I can do.”
5. “That might be a possibility.”

Ka-ching!  The girls get an answer which isn’t negative, and I get to feel as though I’m back in the running for Mother of the Year while maintaining that false sense of hope that I really am running this show.

Though I’m tampering down on the “no’s”, I doubt I’ll ever master that “Yes and. . .” approach to parenting.  The theory behind that is when your wee one asks for something, you say “Yes and” followed by the parameters in which that thing can be done.  For example, when Mo asks to watch TV, I would say, “Yes, and you can do it right after you clean your room!” or when Co asks for yet another snack, I’d say, “Yes, and you have either apples or grapes!” I think this a trick that improv performers use to keep the dialogue going.  It’s also handy for when you’re playing with your kids and trying to come up with something witty for your Barbie/My Little Pony/Justice League Action Figure/G.I. Joe to say.  But, I digress.

There are times when a firm “No.” is necessary.  For instance, if the girls ask me if they can hanglide off the roof using wire-hangers, double sided tape, and a pair of the hub’s underpants, “Let me think about it,” may give them some false hope. In that case, I don’t feel as bad dishing out a steaming plate of “No,” in order to shut the door on that foolishness. 

Although, I might like to see that innovation in action. . .