I've often been asked by my friends and family, how do you do it? How do you and your hubby both work long hours but still have the time to raise three little demanding cherubs and manage a house and business? I like to call it, organized chaos, with an emphasis on the chaos rather than the organized. Up until we had our third child, our life was relatively calm and quiet around the house. The two older kiddos were uber close and liked to frolic in green meadows and make daisy chains together. OK, maybe not daisy chains but they did like mutual mud fights and chicken chasing relays. Kind of the same thing - just without the Walton Family spin to it.

When Gun-Gun joined our family, it was a whole different story. He came loudly screaming into the world at nine and a half pounds of fists and fury. He professed his freedom by promptly peeing on the delivering doctor and than schatting on the OB nurse. When he "peaked" at the age of 18 months. I tried to ignore the subtle changes in him...protruding horns from the temple, forked-shape tale stump just above his tail bone...but it was to no avail. Gun-Gun slowly turned into some sort of monster created from all of the evil Karma hubby and I had coming to us. The mother-in-law quietly informed me one day that I was once again raising my hubby as a toddler and this was sweet justice to her.

After a frantic call and a consult with my very sympathetic pediatrician, he assured me that Gun-Gun was a normal, however a very active child. Most importantly, the Ped assured me that neither hubby nor myself did anything to “break” him; it was just the way he was intended to be. Yes, I had done a superb job (self-proclaimed of course) of child rearing with my oldest two - with neither of them going through the “hitting” phase or God forbid, the “Vampire” phase (biting for the fun and enjoyment of it). However, Gun-Gun appeared to me to be right on the track for a life of juvenile delinquency – smoking on street corners, kissing random girls, and listening to *Heaven forbid* rap music with cuss words. We had to do something.

The painful raising of Gun-Gun came out in so many issues...So what if we can’t go out to restaurants anymore because Gun-Gun likes pinching waitress, head banging windows, and random screaming? We’re saving money and calories on junk food, so ultimately it’s a win-win situation. And who cares if I have to pay good money for a babysitter so that I can grocery shop without little Gun-Gun fingers grasping and breaking my selected items? He’d probably make me buy stuff I really didn’t need, anyway. Who gives a care if I can no longer have houseplants (non-toxic of course) because Gun-Gun thinks they look better uprooted than in the pretty planter? I didn’t really need that stress relieving hobby. Many thanks to my little boy, for keeping me at home and saving me time, money, and calories.

Rather than fighting the monster he became, hubby and I have slowly learned to embrace his differences of violent tendencies towards flying Hotwheels and PDA's - Public Displays of Aggression. We’ve learned (and are still learning) how to creatively address discipline issues both in the house and in public where prying eyes always find the screaming child and flustered parent. I’m not saying that I’m an expert child whisperer by any means, but I know what works for us and what makes Gun-Gun happy.

I'm not a huge fan of spanking and the technique of lecturing is usually followed by the rolling of two-year-old eyes, so I've had to come up with other ways to discipline the little man. We've currently settled on the method of time-outs, with the G man having to spend a few minutes in a selected chair or in his crib. He professes his disdain for this situation by screaming, throwing toys or blankies, and yelling out the new phrases, "KNOCKITOFF!! STOPIT!! NO WAY!! I OUT!!" It seems like his verbal and physical taunting he provides are way worse on the family than the discipline being imposed on him.

I've discovered something just a little bit better; I impose time-outs on myself. The concept of mommy punishment is intriguing to a two-year-old. When I've absolutely lost it, I place myself in my bedroom, on my bed, and as many child advocates advise, I give myself a minute of time-out for ever year of my life. For 32 glorious minutes, I have the absolute, undying attention of my little hellion, fascinated at the fact that mommy is in trouble. The older two have caught onto my game, but little Gun-Gun is still a fan. He watches at first and then slowly joins me on the bed to watch cartoonies (of course I'm not watching because I'm in trouble) and get some much needed hugs and wet kisses. An occasional raspberry might utter from his lips especially if he sees any exposed skin, but for the most part, he's mine for the duration of my time-out.

Yes, at times I do feel like I'm a prisoner in my own home and no, it's entirely fair to the other two who are perfectly fine in all of the previously mentioned situations. But the Ped assured me that this is only a temporary thing and many parents find themselves being housebound during certain "trying" months of their child's life. I just hope that we'll be able to venture out again before my other kids turn 18 and 15, respectively. They have been so patient in the meanwhile, and hubby and I do our best to lavish individual attention in order to keep them on "our side." Because as you can see in our house, it's just a quick little jaunt to the dark side... of the Gun-Gun monster.