I was very much looking forward to the Orionid meteor shower tonight... according to one of our esteemed local meteorologists, the best viewing is between 1-7AM, EDT. Although, allegedly, you could perhaps see them anytime after full darkness.
I've been out hourly, even semi-hourly, for the last 5 hours (since just after I put Peanut to bed). And there's not much.

This is supposed to be a huge meteor shower? Because meteor showers mean shooting stars. Shooting stars equate, in my 10-year-old mind, to make a wish.

Maybe it's the high atmosperic clouds, the ones that make the sky a very milky light blue, instead of the awesome cornflower blue I'm accustomed to this time of year.

Maybe it's the amount I've had to drink today. Michigan pulled out a nail-biter. That game ended several hours ago.

Maybe it's a long weekend home spent mostly at home with my child (see previous posts, please). And that after such a day as yesterday, he needed some Mommy reassurance. I couldn't remove my child from my leg all day.

Any of the above could alter my perception of the sky, and the alleged Awesome that is taking place in the Cosmos.

The most I have seen is -- wait, was that a spot on my glasses, or was it a high-atmospheric shooting star? I'm still not quite sure.

All I can say is that I could use a wish or two upon a falling star tonight.

A lesson in gratitude and respect

Peanut has today off from school for Teacher Development Day. We both woke up early this morning, and he was, as usual, playing his Nintendo DS. I put a pot of coffee on, and was checking email and other such assorted morning tasks. He grew increasingly frustrated with not being able to get past a level in Super Mario, and eventually literally ripped his DS in half.

Excuse me, sir?

I realize your Irish temper leads you to some destructive behaviors, but this is beyond unacceptable.

After a few minutes, when I could finally look him in the face, I demanded not only his DS, but also his backup DS, his Gameboys, and all games and accessories for any and all portable gaming devices. It took him all morning and halfway through the afternoon to clean up the mess from the destruction wreaked while looking for said devices.

He just came out from his room to tell me it was clean. Upon inspection, it looks good. But we're not nearly done yet. Oh, no. Not even close.

Every time this morning he would emerge from his room, he would have a sullen look on his face and a sanctimonious air about him, as if he had done nothing wrong. Furthermore, he pulled his usual meal-time stunt of refusing to finish his lunch, and after over a half hour of Dad and I hounding him to eat, he pretended to vomit. Unfortunately, this is not uncommon. It happens at nearly every mealtime. And let me back up my parenting by stating that I don't offer him unreasonable portions, and I'm a hell of a cook... in fact, I'm his favorite cook. So it's not like the food was inedible. This particular offering was about 3 spoonsful of grits and a fried egg with melted cheese. Dad and I both devoured our (much larger) portions.

Finally, I head to the shower and clear my head. Ahhh, nothing like bubbles and soothing scents to make me think through a problem. The shower realizations? This child lacks respect and gratitude (as evidenced by the eye rolls and imperious looks he gave his grandfather and me all morning).

One of my major parenting philosophies is that the punishment should fit the crime. With that in mind, I developed a 3-pronged approach to the punishment of the offending act.

1. Donate 90% of his toys to children in need.
2. Volunteer some time at a Santa's Helper-type program, so that he can interact with children who are grateful for their toys and will treat them with respect. Fortunately, it's just about perfect timing for such programs.
3. Volunteer some time at a soup kitchen, so he can see firsthand what it's like to be hungry, and to have an idea of how grateful the people served are for every morsel they consume.
3a.  Don't take the Paul Ryan approach to volunteering in a soup kitchen. Actually cook and serve food to the hungry!

Oh, and he's grounded for a week, and no TV or computer or other game time for the weekend. And Nathan and I will discuss Halloween festivities when Nathan gets home from a long, strenuous day at work.

One thing I've noticed over the past five years: when doling out punishment, the punishment extends to me as well as him. It's rather frustrating, and I feel bad for all my childhood sins. 

Your thoughts, dear readers? I'm a Mommy on the verge of a nervous breakdown.