Mother's Day Reminder: 100+ Ways to Screw Up Parenting and Still Raise Pretty Great Kids

100+ Ways to Screw Up Parenting 

and Still Raise Pretty Great Kids

(in no particular order)

In spite of the fact that the vast majority of my children have come from very challenging places, I’m fairly satisfied with the way all of them are turning out.  They are resilient, loving, people who struggle daily, but who persevere and are tough, in the good sense of that word. 

They love each other and are committed to making their lives different.  Several are now married with children of their own.  I’m seeing a break in the cycle of poverty and poor decisions that impacted them as children.  And my birth children, who walked beside their adopted and foster siblings through all the issues, have grown-up with a desire to give the world more than they receive.  Overall, we have raised many unique individuals and I’m happy with the works in progress. 

Another adoptive mom called me in tears yesterday saying, “What am I doing wrong that not a single one of my children will listen to anything I say?  What kind of a mom am I? 

I paused and listened to her desperation and then said, “A mom like me.  You aren’t doing anything wrong.  And you are doing lots of things wrong. But this isn’t about the mistakes you are making or even what you are doing right.  You are a good mom with a virtually impossible job. You are weary and this is a very hard life we have chosen. You can do this and they know that you love them.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment.  “This is so hard.”

Yep.  It is. But so often when I talk to parents, I just want them to remember that they are human and they will make more mistakes than they can count.  But mistakes are not what define them – especially in the eyes of their children. 

The truth is, when they are older, our children usually don’t remember what we remember.  They barely remember our faults and mistakes.  Except in cases when parental conduct is on an extreme for an extended period of time and physical or emotional harm results (i.e., abandonment, abuse, addiction, mental illness etc.), children more often remember how they felt, rather than nitpicking every decision you made.  If they feel that you loved them.  If they feel that you cared.  If they feel that they mattered to you. Then the mistakes are pretty much irrelevant.

Just for fun, I tried to think of 100 ways I have messed up parenting the 53 kids that have come through my home. Because I have been parenting for 24 years and I still have little ones, it is safe to say that I have tried a variety of approaches to this parenting gig.  In some ways, I’m lucky because I get to keep practicing!  In others, I’m not so lucky because no matter how much knowledge I have, I find myself continuing to make mistakes!

Anyway, I made myself stop at 106 – which is likely to make my OCD readers a little edgy!  But it wasn’t even a challenge.  If I had allowed myself, I could have come up with 500 without too much more thought.

Let’s face it.  Parents are hard on themselves.  And even harder on each other.  Sometimes we feel like we have all the answers and everyone else is doing it wrong.  Other times, we know that we are desperately in need of help, but we are afraid to admit our shortcomings for fear of criticism. Neither position is particularly compelling.

As a mother of so many children over such a long period, I have learned one solid truth about parenting.  Kids are resilient and parents are human.  We will make tens of thousands of mistakes as we attempt to navigate this parenting experience. Sometimes, we will have days or weeks of constant mistakes.  Other times, it will feel like everything is working better than we could ever imagine. But in the end, it is a balancing act.  Trying to avoid the extremes on a regular basis, while trying to find that magical place that allows us to raise productive members of society who have something to contribute.

So here’s my list.  If you don’t find yourself somewhere on here, please contact me immediately.  I want to know how you do it.  (I’m serious!)

Yelling.
Not yelling when the situation demands it.

Losing your temper.
Losing your mind.

Spanking.

Not spanking.

Being overly impatient.

Wishing that this wasn’t your job.

Making this job all about you.

Telling your child the truth in a hurtful way when you are frustrated or angry.

Refusing to tell your child the truth so that you won’t “hurt feelings.”

Crying in front of your kids.

Trying to hide all your emotions from your children.

Creating a fantasy world with Santa Claus, the tooth fairy,
 the Easter Bunny, etc.

Refusing to participate in “white lies” with your children.

Having no rules for your child.

Having too many rules for your child.

Allowing your own emotions and frustrations
 to impact your parenting.

Ignoring your own needs for the “sake” of your children.

Standing up for your child when his conduct is unworthy.

Failing to stand up for your child
 when they deserve your support.

Trusting your child when they are not trustworthy.

Failing to trust your child 
when they are actually telling the truth.

Allowing your child too much freedom.

Giving you child too little freedom.

Trying so hard to be your child’s friend 
that you forget to parent.

Trying so hard to parent that you forget
 that they are growing up.

Giving your child whatever he wants without earning it.

Failing to reward your child for anything.

Praising your child for everything (good or not) 
to make your child feel special.

Thinking your child is not “good enough” (perfectionism).

Criticizing too much, too often, and too harshly.

Being afraid to critique your child 
even though your child needs to learn.

Missing nights of homework.

Placing homework and school above everything else
 at any cost.

Giving in to a tantrum just to get it over with.

Not realizing that tantrums are sometimes the only way

 young children can communicate a strong emotion.

Keeping your child up too late.

Refusing to change bed time for any reason.

Holding your child all the time.

Choosing not to hold your child all the time.

Keeping a strict feeding and sleep schedule,                                                     

 even though it means you have to miss opportunities.

Remaining flexible and allowing the day to run its course,                                

even if things get missed.

Laughing at your child when they are humiliated.

Not laughing with your child.

Attempting to entertain your child all the time.

Refusing to entertain your child at all.

Missing a major event (recital, play, etc) 
due to other obligations.
Attending every single activity for you child,                                                        

 at the expense of other important activities.

Letting your baby cry it out.

Not letting your baby cry it out.

Taking your child to the doctor too often 
out of fear, insecurity, or uncertainty.
Refusing to take your child to the doctor 

when it might be a good idea.

Choosing vaccinations.

Refusing vaccinations.
Creating a calm, scheduled, routine, predictable life,                                          

  at the expensive of last minute opportunities.

Creating a relaxed, wild, unscheduled,
 fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants life, at the expense
 of missing opportunities due to poor planning.

Planning every detail of your child’s future.

Failing to plan any details of your child’s future

Overreacting to every emotion your child feels
 and trying to fix it.

Ignoring your child when they need you.

Not using a car seat properly.
Letting fear make you overly zealous

 in your safety precautions.

Letting your child do something others perceive as dangerous because you feel like they will be fine.

Not letting your child try something
 for fear they might get hurt.

Allowing your child to fail and feel the consequences.

Correcting every mistake your child makes so that he does not bear the feelings or responsibility for his actions.

Missing the signs of depression in your child.

Thinking that every normal hormonal teen act of crazy                                

    requires institutionalization.

Comparing your child to every other child you meet.

Missing major warning signs in your child’s development.

Allowing your child to participate in too many activities,                                

 causing stress and exhaustion.

Refusing to allow your child to participate in any activities out of fear or laziness.

Allowing your children to spend the night with friends.

Choosing to keep your kids at home at night for safety.

Allowing your child to be his own parent.

Refusing to allow your child to grow up.

Over protecting your child from the outside world.

Giving your child total freedom.

Home schooling your children.

Sending your kids to public or private school.

Letting your child sleep in your bed.

Choosing not to let your child sleep in your bed.

Not sitting down for a minute and talking to your child/teen.

Trying to listen to every little thing your child/teen has to tell you, at the expense of other important people and issues.

Putting your children before your marriage.

Hurting your children to protect your girl/boyfriend or spouse.

Drug testing your child even when they are clean.

Denying the obvious signs of alcohol and/or drug use in your child.

Spinning your wheels in an effort to make your child happy.

Not caring whether your child is happy.

Making sure that your child has everything (and more) 
that their friends have.

Not buying your kids anything that makes them feel included in their peer group.

Constantly catering to picky eaters.

Refusing to make anything your child likes to eat.

Overfeeding your children, especially junk food.

Underfeeding your child.

Trying to solve every problem your child encounters.

Not helping your child find solutions to problems they face.

Doing your child’s homework just to get it over with.

Refusing to help with the homework at all.

Babying your children so they wont grow up and leave you.

Treating your children like adults 
and making them grow up too fast.

Centering family completely around your children

Forgetting you have children 
and making it all about the adults.

Making every craft on Pinterest to impress your children, who could care less.

Thinking you are a failure because you can’t make anything on Pinterest and you think your children care.

So, there is it is.  My long long list of faults.  Tomorrow, I might print the next 100!  Come on guys.  We can do this. 

Confessions of An Angry Mom: It’s Time To Get My Heart Checked.

  

Confessions of An Angry Mom:  It’s Time To Get My Heart Checked.

Warning:  If you are sensitive to certain word choices, you might not want to read this the third column of this post.  It is honest.  When I’m really frustrated or overwhelmed, I use words that some would consider impolite. Consider yourself warned.

I’m a mother and a teacher and a coach.  Most of my days are spent teaching, training and taking care of others.   My favorite verse is directly related to my obvious NEED to remember that if I do not have a servant’s heart, then my service is just good works and I’m screwed.  The verse I quote over and over to my kids and my students is from Luke 6:45:   “... For out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.” In other words, if my heart is full of good, good things will come out.  If my heart is hard and angry, then bad things come out. 

I’m a good teacher and coach and I know exactly how to help my students, friends and clients.  But it would really help me to have a ME in my life, someone who is willing to call me out.  Although it might not be obvious from my conduct, I spend a good portion of my day in self-evaluation.   I’ve decided that I’m pretty selfish and self-centered.  Otherwise, I wouldn’t be upset about anything, because my anger seems to be rooted in the problems that someone else causes for me.

I’ve decided it’s time for true confessions.  I’m speaking for myself, but I’m willing to bet that if people are honest, almost all moms and dads find themselves thinking, if not saying, similar things.

WARNING: If this makes you laugh or cry, you might need to check your heart!

What happens.	What I say on a good day.	What I think and should - but don’t always - edit before I say on a bad day.
My 3-year-old is play wrestling with his 5-year-old brother. I warn them that someone is going to get hurt.  Someone gets hurt.	“I’m sorry.  But I warned you that you would get hurt.  Go wipe the blood off your nose.”	“What is wrong with your brain?  I tell you every single time you are running through the living room and doing head butts into his stomach that you will get hurt.  Big surprise.  Tough it out.  Now go wipe the blood off your nose and clean it up off the floor because I’m not cleaning your mess.”
My teenager waits until the night before a big paper is due to start.	“Son.  You know the rules.  You must have the final draft ready two nights before it is due so that I have time to help you edit and figure out your problems.  I have 50 other things I need to be doing right now and I’m exhausted.  I can’t start helping you at 10 p.m. the night before it is due. You are on your own.  But if you don’t make a decent grade, you won’t be going anywhere this weekend.”	“Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid. You are too smart not to understand the problem here.  Procrastination doesn’t work.  Don’t expect me to feel sorry for your decision to procrastinate.  I’m not feeling the slightest bit guilty.  Just pissed that I have to keep repeating myself. Now go fix the problem that you created. “
Two children get into an argument.  One hits.  The other returns the hit.	“I’m sorry, but you deserve each other.  Both of you are hitting to solve your problems and it hurts.  Both of you know not to hit.  Use your words.”	“Why do I have to say this 25 times per day?  Haven’t ya’ll figured out the problem yet?  Maybe you will beat the living crap out of each other and decide on your own hitting is not the best plan. “
I tell my extremely stubborn 6-year-old to go pick up his towel and hang it on the hook.  He starts shouting and wailing, “No!  It isn’t my towel.  I already did.  I don’t want to.  Why do I have to get the towel, no one else did?”	“Excuse me. ‘No,’ is not one of your options.  The correct answer is ‘Yes Ma’am.’  Now go pick up the towel.”	“UGGGGHHHH.  I can’t stand this!  I hate stubborn disobedience and intentional defiance. What am I doing wrong that makes you think that it is okay to refuse to obey?  I get so mad I just want to throw something or hang YOU up in that towel.  Why are you so damn stubborn?  It makes me not want to be around you at all.  Is that what you want?”
My adult daughter calls to tell me that her car just died and she needs help getting to and from work.	“Sure.  What time do I need to come get you?”	“Really?  Really?  It is always something.  I finally get a few hours to myself and what do I get to do?  Drive my adult children.  What fun.  I can’t wait. “
I tell my 7-year-old to get her snack and put it in her backpack for school.  She hears me, but continues to play and forgets. I move on to the next thing. On her way out the door the next morning, she suddenly remembers and tries to run back inside to get her snack. NOTE:  This is not a child who must have a snack to function in school. I have some kids that can’t afford to miss a snack.  She can.	“I told you to put the snack in your backpack. I’m sorry, but we are running late.  You cannot go back to get a snack.  Next time, maybe you will obey when I remind you. And you are not allowed to get a snack from the teacher.”	Thinking… “Oh great.  Now I have to take the time to email the teacher so my child doesn’t use this as an excuse to get a junky snack from the teacher’s community snacks.  Uggh!  I don’t have time for this! But I know that she is going to whine at school and tell the teacher that I didn’t give her a snack.  And I don’t want the teacher to have to deal with her either.  If I don’t call, then the teacher will feel sorry for her and give her a snack out of the community snack bucket.  It will be chips or something she loves, so the lesson will be lost.  And I’ve already spent far too much time thinking about this stupid issue.”
My toddler crawls behind the couch and unplugs the lamp cord which is directly below the safety cap on the upper plug.  He then proceeds to take a fork and stick it as far as he can into the socket.	Leaping forward not knowing what he is sticking into the light socket, I shout… “OMG!!!  NOoooooo! Stop baby. That is a No No!  No! No! That will hurt baby.  OUCHIE!  No baby No!  Thank goodness we use plastic forks!  That would hurt baby.”	“OMG!!!  NOoooooo!  Stop!  What are you doing child?  Are you crazy?  That is a No NO! Did I say that is a No No, because I meant to say it was a NOooo NOOOOO!  You can’t do that!  OMG.  OMG. OMG.  Thank you God for watching him and taking care of him. Thank you for plastic forks. I can’t do this.  I’m not smart enough or fast enough.  I can’t be  everywhere all the time.   Ugggh!!! Pant. Pant.  OMG. OMG. OMG.”
My teen doesn’t want to go to church with the family.  He would rather sleep in or go to the church where his best friend goes.  He whines and moans and complains and asks if he can just skip “this week” or  go to another church.	“I understand that you don’t want to go, but this is my only opportunity to gather the entire family together at one place and I need that every week.  It is important to me.  And because it is important to me, you must go.  Sleeping is not an option and you can go to youth group at your friend’s church.  Now get dressed without complaining and be ready at 9:30.”	“Screw it.  I don’t care if you come or don’t come.  Sleep all freakin’ day or go with some other family to church.  I HATE listening to you complain week after week.  It puts me in a pissy mood and makes going to church miserable.  Every time you try to get your way it is saying to me that I’m not important enough to you to cooperate.  I hate that feeling.  I want you to go whether you like it or not just because I need it. I spend most of my time meeting ya’lls needs.  Is it so wrong for me to ask ya’ll to fulfill one of my needs?  But whatever.  Do whatever the hell you want and I’ll go worship God by my damn self!”
My son spills his juice accidentally.	“It’s not a big deal.  Go get a towel and clean it up. Then get the juice and I’ll pour you some more.”	“Crap. Crap. Crap.  I know it was an accident and you weren’t doing anything wrong, but now I have to get all the sticky juice off the floor and counter and chair.  More work.  More work.  Does it ever end?”
My son spills his milk after I tell him to sit down and quit playing at the table.	“Go get a towel and clean it up.  That is what happens when you play at the table.  No more milk tonight.”	Crap. Crap. Crap. I JUST mopped the floor an hour ago! I tell you over and over again to stop playing at the table.  Can’t you just obey me? Can’t you just listen so you don’t keep making messes?  I’m tired.  I’m sick of cleaning. I’m sick of disobedience.  I just want to quit this job forever!”
My adult child calls at 10p.m. and just wants to process with me.	“No. I’m not busy. What can I do for you?”	(Eyes rolling.) Ahhh.  Maybe if I just don’t answer the phone she will go away.  It’s late.  I just got into bed.  I’m exhausted.  I hate talking on the phone on a great day.  I have already had my fill of helping people today. Do I really have to listen to more people talk?
My son needs to go to the bathroom in  a public place. He must go in the women’s room with me.  He starts to pee without lifting the seat and gets pee all over the seat because he has unsophisticated aim!	“Sweetie.  You need to remember to lift the seat before you go potty.  If not, you get pee on the seat and girls don’t like to sit on your pee.”	“Lovely.  Just what I want to do.  Wipe your  pee off the seat in a public bathroom.  Whatever!”
Same bathroom trip… My child tells me that he needs to go poop.  Before I realize what he is doing, he has LIFTED the lid and is going to sit on the toilet!!!	“Wait! I didn’t mean the lift the lid when you POOP! Oh well, at least you tried to obey!”	What can I say.  Good or bad day --- this is the point to simply laugh!!!!
My adult daughter wants me to play Nanna and keep her kids while she and her husband get away for a few days.	“I can’t wait to see the grandkids and I know that you guys need a break. Can you bring them over now?”	“Agggh.  I really want to see the kids and I definitely want to give my daughter a break, but I am so freakin’ tired.  I just want to crawl into a hole and hide.  When is it MY turn to take a break?”
The teacher sends home a note asking for a family picture. I read the note and remember it 3 days later.	Note to the teacher:  “This is our family picture.  It contains as many kids as we can gather in one location at one time. Please don’t expect my child to be able to explain all of our rather unique relationships.  All he knows is this is his family!”	“Crap.  I vaguely remember that I am supposed to send a picture to school, but I have no idea which kid is supposed to bring it.  Crap!  Crap! Now I have to look through 8 school folders and assignment books to figure out which child OR I have to print 8 copies and send one with each child and hope for the best. Doesn’t anyone know how hard it is to get a picture of this crazy group?  My kids, even my teenagers have to ask how many siblings they have.  Anyway, I’ve looked in eight folders, and I still have no idea.  Whatever.  My kid is the only one with a family the size of Texas and not a single photo to prove he has a family at all.”
My pre-teen gets so angry at me that he punches the wall and his fist goes through it.  He runs upstairs to his room and sends me a text.  “Just tell me when you are going to make me move out and where I will be living. I need to know now.”	“Son, what makes you think that just because you make a mistake we won’t keep you? I needed to know what you would do if you were pushed to your limits.  I needed to know that you wouldn’t hurt me even though you were raging.  You didn’t hurt me.  You hurt a wall. And your fist.  The wall can be fixed.  The important thing is that you proved that you won’t physically hurt a woman.  As for the hole:  You need to research how to repair sheetrock and start learning.  Either you will pay to fix the hole or you will learn to do it yourself.	Oddly.  I don't have bad days when I'm dealing with really big stuff.  I would have reacted this way no matter what my mood on any given day. It's the little stuff that gets me.

Part 1 of 2 - "Take Only Pictures. Leave Only Footprints."

I have been writing for many years, but only recently started to blog.  It's time for a little humor. This story was originally written in January 16, 2007.  It is told in two parts.  You won't want to miss the end of this hilarious story!

The sign on the way out of the camp site said, “Take Only Pictures.  Leave Only Footprints.”  We are typically a law-abiding family, but sometimes, things are simply beyond our control. 

Last month (that fact will become important much later in the story) we took our family on our 2^nd Annual “Escape the Chaos of Christmas” camping trip.  For my husband, that means a tent and sleeping bags. Problem is, only 4 of our 18 children have been boys—and the majority of our girls aren’t the outdoorsy type. 

I’m head of the girly girls.  The last two times we went camping – oh, who am I kidding? -- the only two times our family camped – we had young babies, it was December, and I couldn’t bear the thought of our infant freezing to death – even if we do live in Alabama.

Therefore, I insist on renting a cabin with running water, a kitchen, and a space for the pack-n-play.  I meet with little resistance. Everyone prefers the comforts of heat, a soft bed, and no living creatures with more than 2 legs– even if that means 13 people crammed into a cabin built for four, with a single bathroom.

Months before the big event, my husband begins asking, cajoling, and finally begging for his girls to join him in the tent for a fun, frolicking evening around the campfire.  He’s not a seasoned camper – as evidenced by the fact that he didn’t know food inside the sleeping tent is a bad idea – but the girls don’t know the difference. 

The kids that are willing to humor their father and sleep in the “man” tent insist on the campsite nearest the outdoor bathroom facility.  Moreover, after spending all day inside the cabin in their sweats without a shower, they line-up for the only indoor bath in order to shower, shave, straighten their hair and apply full make-up before spending one night in a sleeping bag in the bitter mountain cold. No amount of reasoning convinces them that this is not necessary. I find it highly amusing.

I’m fairly certain that they are not trying to impress anyone.  I doubt the bears care about make-up.  It’s more about comfort.  They simply feel better sleeping on the ground when they are clean and pretty.  

But I digress. Obviously, we survived the four-day camping trip.  When it comes time to pack the cars (it takes two cars to transport our family anywhere) each girl assumes the task of collecting her personal items, stowing them in her designated, pre-sized duffle bag and placing all of the extraneous parts and pieces directly beside the car so that they can carefully crammed into the car at one time.  After years of traveling with a large crew, I have packing down to a science.

The two and one-half hour drive home with 8 people in a Suburban is a bit crowded, but we are not above using a portable DVD player to keep them from killing each other.  Fortunately,  I had to leave a few hours earlier with some of the kids to get our 10 ½ month old to her “as close to 9 months as we are able to remember and can actually find the time to make the appointment -- well check-up”  But that’s another story.

Somewhere in route, I received a frantic phone call from one of my girls – speaking in a rushed, high pitched tone, she says, “Mom!  Mom! (Insert screams!) Can you hear me?  There’s something in the car.  Mom! I promise you!  We have some furry creature in the car with us.  It just crawled across my fo..oo..tt! (Insert 7 screaming girls!)  It was the kind of voice that made my mother heart jump as I immediately envisioned dead bodies strewn across the road.  Listening to her words, I realized it wasn’t quite that dramatic, but I still couldn’t make sense of what they were screaming about. 

She continued, “Mom!  Dad doesn’t believe us, but I promise you some furry thing just crawled across the floorboard of the car.  We must have packed up some animal when we packed the car.  Mom!  Please tell dad that we are serious.” 

I try reasoning with my loving husband. “Are you sure it’s nothing,” I say sweetly.  Okay, anyone who knows me, knows that’s a lie – I never speak sweetly. But I do ask him.  Then I figure any animal crazy enough to get in the car with 7 screaming girls and my husband deserves the punishment.  Besides, I was in another car.

Anyway, he refuses to pull over on the side of the interstate, refuses to unpack all seven girls, the entire truckload of camping supplies, 6 hair straighteners, 8 pillows, the dvd player, and all the dirty clothes to find an imaginary animal.  He did suggest that they open the windows.  He was ready to get home. Creature or not. 

The remainder of the trip home the girls kept their feet in their seats and refused to sleep – all watching intently for the next sign of fur. There was none.  When the girls got home and emptied the car, there was still nothing.

Perhaps the problem is that seeing fur in the Suburban isn’t all that unusual – however, it is more likely to be that furry green mold that grows on a two-week old peanut butter sandwich than a small animal.  In spite of the lack of evidence to support their story, the girls remained firm in their belief that there was, in fact, an illegal stow away from the camp ground.

Flash forward 21 days and approximately 2,000 miles on the odometer. 

I give my 20-year-old daughter two plastic applicator tampons to put into the glove compartment.  She lays them on top of the tire warranty that we bought with the new tires just days before the camping trip. These items are emergency equipment in a car full of teen-age girls.

Two days later, we are loading the car for coop.  My 14-year old daughter opens the glove compartment and finds a perplexing scene.  Holding up one of the plastic wrappers that has obviously been chewed open and a plastic applicator with a tiny hole in the handle she looks quizzically and said, “Is this supposed to look like this?”

Initially, I wasn’t paying attention to her, which is not all that unusual because I’m taking a head count of kids, making sure the baby is properly restrained, checking behind others to make sure they what they need and loading my teaching materials before we drive off.  But her facial expression causes me to notice her.

I glance over at the items she is holding and then divert my eyes to the open glove box where I see that the cotton that has been removed and shredded into tiny pieces which are now lying on top of the tire warranty.  Upon further investigation, we discover that the warranty is missing a one inch semi-circular chunk from the right corner. The edge of the paper has a pattern that bears an uncanny resemblance to tiny teeth marks. 

What can I say? My husband was wrong.  The evidence is overwhelmingly against him!

How a small rodent has survived a month inside our car is a mystery. How anything can survive in our grungy 1998 Suburban that is literally falling apart at the seams is a mystery.  How it could go unnoticed during a 500 mile trip to Florida with 8 children, an  800 mile trip to Kentucky, and a minimum of 12 trips per day taxiing kids on every  errand you can imagine, is priceless. 

Okay.  We took plenty of pictures.  We left at least 13 sets of footprints.  It was the “only” that gave us a little trouble. 

The story continues in Part 2, which I will Post simultaneously.