Walking on Eggshells

How bizarre it is to feel as if you're walking on eggshells with regard to one of your children. One of my three is currently acting out in a way that needs to be curtailed. Step one, access severity of disturbing behavior. Step two, research and explore curtailment procedure. Step three, execute a livable plan for curtailment. Step four, hold your breath and walk on eggshells everyday until either the disturbing behavior is magically exiled or something more pressing takes center stage in you head.

Bonding with my Baby

Tonight I was fortunate to have a friend host two out of three of my young children for a sleepover. I was left to cuddle with my sweet five year old - my baby. Everyone with children (or a pet) has one. It's the last one and we all know it. My sweet baby flew from my womb like a rocket thanks to a three-times-a-charm mantra. But there really is a special bond with that baby. For me, it didn't crop up immediately as significant - different from the others (I feel suddenly transplanted to a Lost episode). Anyway, tonight my baby and I heaped ourselves in blankets and bathed in the black and white reality of "I Love Lucy" episodes for an hour. We shared pretzels and Kix cereal. When she noticed me falling back on a bad habit (mine is picking at hangnails - how glamorous), she cooed, "don't pick, don't pick". And when I didn't listen, she rang out again with the same sage advice. I whispered back to the sage, whose wisdom I read with respect, "I know". What I notice about the baby isn't that the child is more special than the other children in the family, but rather the parent has a greater appreciation for time with her children in general because it is the best measure of finite and fleeting available. Given the chance, any among my children would fill the same role, notice the same insights. But rushed through chores, homework, activities, friends, and scripted inquiries of their day, there are days when neither parent nor child has time leftover to relish much of anything.

Kids and their Stages

It can be all too easy to think of your children in a certain fixed way. The way they rush through the slalom course between this stage and that one. The youngest of my brood is currently finding her inner-student, begging for homework. My middle son flashes to anger when scolded, then storms into mutiny and eventual unchecked sobbing. The oldest is smart and sassy, and dare I say, intellectual in a way her parents are not. She practices fresh and snappy retorts to her parental overlords, but quickly backs down in response to her mother's less encouraging expressions. Each phase, stage, call it what you will, is du jour, with no promise for tomorrow. It reminds me that parents have to adapt like persevering guppies in old water. The hard part is that sometimes we, as parents, forget to move on to the next stage. Maybe we were at last comfortable with the preceding stage. Or maybe we don't even notice that yet another transition has been initiated. Whatever it is, our job remains like that of a vigilant oracle, ready to anticipate the next new thing.

Boredom

Are you bored? Based on the number of times my kids claim boredom, I'd guess it was their primary objective. Yet how can the three of them be bored? At 5, 7 and 9, they are perfectly juxtaposed to laugh at poop jokes on cue. Teasing and unsolicited torturing provides hours of entertainment, as does climbing on off-limit furniture, and sliding down staircases in sleeping bags. There are at least a couple thousand dollars stowed away in IKEA bins, disguised like Legos, Barbies, Polly Pockets, Littlest Pet Shop, and Playmobil. Then there are the basics like old fashioned wooden blocks, dollhouse, puzzles, books, boardgames, arts and craft supplies, an over-flowing dress-up bin, a family of Potato Heads and baby dolls with all the fixin's. The yard offers a playset, bikes and scooters, wooded acres and climbing trees. Heck, we even have a lovable Labrador called Rudy. When my oldest daughter describes herself as bored, she either wants to bake cookies or use the computer. The only thing I can figure is that the word boredom, say it isn't so, has been mislabeled. Boredom is really code for "forget all that other crap, all I want to do is... "

Switching Gears

As a parent, I feel more like a stick shift than anything else. I move from one mode to another with just a twitch of my emotional gears. One minute, my youngest is screaming that the dog wants to come inside. The next, because I'm actually upstairs finally brushing my teeth at eleven, or maybe I'm taking a shower at three just before racing to the bus-stop, I roll my eyes, rushing to her side to quell the nagging. When I see her, I get into her face, grab her by the arms and with an equally charged response, I mock her saying something like "get off my back you battle-axe". She lights up and explodes with laughter like you've never seen. We hug and laugh, and then I let the dog inside. I love switching gears - what a roller-coaster it is.

Dad's Home

What is this phenomenon where one parent can fly solo while the other is away? You tap into auto-pilot mode with relative ease. To survive, you might dumb the whole routine down a notch or two (or five), depending on how many kids you have. You serve breakfast for dinner one night, nachos another, and take them out to a restaurant. The house may be more unkempt than usual, and the bathtub might be dry as a bone. You lie to yourself about how easy it is, and how you could do this indefinitely. But the minute that spouse returns, your system undergoes a series of shut-downs only akin to a security breach at the White House. You may still be there in body, but you cannot be reached. As you eke out a break to regroup (and maybe use the potty sans kids in the bathroom), you tell yourself that it wasn't half bad. In fact, it was pretty easy and if you had to, you could do it all over again tomorrow. The truth is, it can seem easier to parent solo because you are acting on behalf of only one person (yourself), instead of two.

What makes parenting so extra-challenging is that you NEVER do it in a vacuum. Instead, parenting almost always takes place in front of a huge mirror. Of course, even the most renegade among us check our own reflection occasionally. But when we parent with a partner (that huge mirror I just referred to), everything we do is a little harder because we aren't just trying to please ourselves. We have the dreams and goals of another parent to respect. And those dreams and goals are what our partners want for their children. The only way to win here is to respect, share, listen, repeat (and don't forget to breathe).

Candy

Neither one of my three children can go to the neighborhood pharmacy without the unrelenting expectation of a candy reward. I can easily recall how this all started and admit my seems-like-yesterday compliciteness. When they were very young, I would get through long-haul errands such as trips to the grocery store, Target and the like, by first grabbing and then ripping open a huge bundle of Twizzlers. As they suckled the strawberry goodness, I told myself it was survival. Now look at us. My kids expect sweets whenever and wherever they want them. My youngest whines and chants for more. Today I gave her a box of mints for no reason, and 3 hours later she had squirreled away all but the last few. When I told her that was enough, she FREAKED out. Surprise! Oh, the damage I reap. Yet I only have myself to blame. Admitting guilt is easy, but breaking the pattern and ensuing damage that I began feels impossible.