Wii-sy Come, Wii-sy Go

I got the kids a Wii this weekend. The heavens opened up, choirs of angels broke into song, the earth stopped its rotation for just a moment all in response to the momentuous occasion.

And now its gone.

Here is the dark truth to why parents buy their kids video game consoles. Its so we can take them away. Unfortunately, my family rarely reflects what you see on a sitcom. My kids aren't like those "Cosby" kids or the "Full House" crowd, they don't learn a Very Important Lesson in the span of a half-hour. I wish they did, although those t.v. kids were always kind of dull.

Being a parent is like living in a war zone. A gentle one most of the time, but there are battles that must be fought, lines drawn, etc. etc. For my family, there is a major battle that has been waging for years. My kids won't clean up after themselves. Can't just say "go clean your room." Doesn't work. So I am constantly looking for more leverage.

The Wii is our latest weapon. We let them play with it for a couple of days, got them hooked then went and inspected their rooms and the other areas upstairs. BAM! The Wii is gone now and they don't get it back for a week, even if they get the upstairs looking like a model home. They have this afternoon to do some cleaning, and if it hasn't improved, something else gets taken away.

I don't enjoy taking things from my kids. Mainly because if I take everything away, they are downstairs bugging me. Also, they will win this one if we get too far. For the most part, you could put one of my kids in an empty room with a piece of paper and they could entertain themselves, I was the same way, drove my mom crazy.

Now to put a writing spin on it. Ummm....okay, conflict. I've noticed that my writing is darker, more conflicted since having kids. I'm surrounded by conflict and really, conflict is all the same in that it brings out the same emotions whether its trying to get my kids to clean their room or a heroine trying to convince the faeries court that the great horned demons are going to attack. The frusterations are similar. The horror of seeing how my kids' bedrooms are destroyed is similar to the horror my heroine feels when she sees her apartment ravaged by goblins looking for the lost amulet of Paicoma. You get the picture.

I'm going to drag my youngest upstairs and battle with her over cleaning up the barbies. It will be a battle of titans, two monsters engaging in a fierce fight, blood and tissue flying with grusome abandon, at least that's how it will show up in one of my books.