My seven-year-old squared off against my five year old. Their noses hovered inches from one another, shoulders hunched forward, teeth bared, lips quivering with fury.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

With eyes locked on each other, they both yelled "Mooooooom!"

Fearing that my arm would be bitten off, I debated whether I should hose them off with our extendable faucet, or perhaps I could distract them by throwing a favorite toy and encouraging one of them to fetch, while waving a second toy in front of the other sibling to keep their attention. In the end, I slipped a rubber spatula between the snapping beasts and gently applied pressure to first one, then the other's foreheads. It made them laugh, and the battle ended with yet another conversation about how life doesn't have to be one endless competition.

This parenting gig is hard sometimes.

Lately I've felt that my tools are inadequate. I've lost my edge and I'm not sure where or how, but I find myself reacting, instead of acting. The inmates are this close to running the asylum, and I'm resorting to chucking toys down the hall or clowning with a spatula to keep things from getting ugly. Maybe they are already running the joint, and I'm delusional. *Shudder*

We recently had a dog trainer in to work with our neurotic pooch. Apparently, my status as Alpha Dog in the family was all wishful thinking. "We do not sing 'no.' We speak firmly and do not repeat. Obedience is a must, or there is a swift consequence." So sayeth the dog trainer. Every behavior modification has an associated disciplinary action. Also, I am a pushover, and a world-class softy.

Chief among the new techniques is keeping a four-foot leash on the dog's collar all the time. She drags around the leash, so that she can be corrected if she jumps or something. And then there's the spray bottle for undesired barking. A week into it, and the dog is sullen, but behaving. Oh, the fantasy I have, of my children trailing leashes, and of barking "No!" and squirting them into submission. Would I trade my happy, wisecracking children for pouting, but obedient children? Is it too late to crate train them?

Ahem.

I plan on enrolling in some classes at our local positive-discipline oriented center, to add some new tools, and sharpen the ones I already have. I always assumed that once I cleared the toddler years, things would be looking up. I'd be able to reason with the kids. They would have an understanding of the way the world works, and would be willing to cooperate to make our little family the most harmonious, loving, team-playing, choral-singing family since the Von Trapps. Alas, there seems to be a hitch in my pipe-dreams. My pipe-dreams resemble pipe-bombs right now. Instead of voices raised in song, we have angry standoffs over the amount of cereal in a bowl. I'm frustrated with the discord. And I'm realizing that my status in the pack has slipped.

I'm glad for the availability of local classes. I've been pouring over the course descriptions, and it seems that there is hope for a softy like me. I suspect that becoming an Alpha Mom doesn't involve squirt bottles. Pity, really, because I'm already planning a holster.