This is NOT a Democracy!

My house is not a democracy... at least not at this point.

There are power struggles.  I win them.  There are battles of will.  I am victorious.  There are no negotiations.  There are no compromises.  This is my domain.

My house is ruled by Momocracy.

What exactly is a Momocracy? Well, it's sort of like tyranny with more love and less blood.  I reign supreme and what I say goes.

"You get what you get, and you don't pitch a fit!"

Breakfast (or breaksmast as it is occasionally referred to) is whatever I choose.  You wear what I pick out.  You drink what I give you.  You go to bed when I say.

And it is all (mostly) accepted because it is instituted with love.

Thankfully, because my children realize that they live in a Momocracy, we don't have many arguments over what clothes will be worn.  I pick them out the night before.  Every article of clothing, down to the socks, shoes, and underoos, is neatly lain out on the couch before bed most night.

We don't have arguments over what the breakfast beverage will be.  Sippy cups of milk and water (not together, of course) are prepared and placed on reachable shelves in the fridge before I turn into a pumpkin each night.

And breaksmast is whatever I decide it is going to be.  On school days, it is usually a pop tart, lovingly placed on the counter the night before with a little bowl by it's side.  On the days we are really lucky, The Husband wakes up before me and prepares eggs or pancakes.

We don't have short-order cooks in this house for lunch or dinner either.  You eat what you are given, or you can wait until the next meal.  It is the rule under which I was raised, and I think I turned out okay...

(yes, I know I'm a little biased on the last point)

Some people are shocked by how early I put my children to bed.  The last of the little peepers is out of sight no later than 7:30 most nights but usually before the clock says 7:05.  When The Husband travels, 7:30 really means 6:30 and we pretend that it's not still too light outside to even fathom going to sleep.  Why do I put them to bed so early?  I have the luxury of being home all day with my kids.  And in order for me to honestly be the best mom I can, I need a little bit of me time.  Anyone who says otherwise clearly hasn't spent more than five minutes in my house.

Now, all of this isn't to say that we don't have outbursts, temper tantrums, and total shit-fits.  After all, motherhood wouldn't be worth it's weight if there weren't some challenging times to make us appreciate the good times even more.  But by and large, my kids do know that "because I said so" is a good enough reason to not question a decree.

Even the Mohawk Monster is learning that negotiation is not an option for certain things like what to wear or eat, or when it is time to sleep.

Why?  Because, I said so.

Love, hugs, and blessings,
The Mama