I listed to a podcast the other day that got me a-thinking (as so many podcasts do.) It was an interview on Fresh Air with Jennifer Senior, who wrote the book All Joy And No Fun (about parenting, are you shocked?) I haven’t read the book, so I can’t really talk about that, but I loved the interview. What got me thinking was something the author said about becoming a parent in your 30s (specifically stay-at-home-parents.) She said that for the last almost-decade we have spent most of our time [in the work force], talking to adults and having rational conversations. Now all of a sudden, we’re talking to these people who don’t get reason and logic at all and that can be frustrating (understatement.)
I FEEL THIS so hard, guys. It is my natural instinct to talk to LG like an adult. Not necessarily because I am used to the workforce or whatever, and not even as a conscious thing; it’s just what I do. And let me tell you, it does not always work. She does this thing (as so many threenagers do, I am sure) where she just FREAKS out about very little, dumb things. Like her chair won’t push out from the table because the legs are stuck in between tiles. Or her books won’t stack and they keep falling over. Or she puts her sock on backwards. These are things I can totally help her with, they are not emergencies, and yet she freaks the fuck out over them.
I try to be rational and explain to her that these are not things to cry about. If you’re stuck in your chair, Mom will help you. If your books keep tipping over, Mom can show you how to stack them so they don’t fall over. If your sock is on backwards, Mom can show you how to put it on so the heel is in the right spot. But, for the love of god, please do not scream about any of these things. Despite the fact that talking rationally to a two-year-old is kind of ridiculous, I am at a loss for what else I should do. I am certainly not going to swoop in and console her over spilled books. I am also not going to ignore it. I feel like it has to be understood that there are moments in which it’s okay to get frustrated for a second, but then we move on. I am a grown-ass lady and I’ve been known to throw things in frustration, so I get it. Just, you know, not 30 times a day.
(Funny aside: I’ve been trying to get her to take a deep breaths when she’s about to freak out and she does NOT like that. “No, Mommy, no breathe!” Okay then!)
Another thing the author mentioned in the interview is how we’re expected to be our kid’s playmate. Oooooh boy. I can’t tell you how much guilt I feel for not actively playing with LG each day. There are plenty of times when I send her upstairs to nap and she…does not nap. She plays and and reads and I can hear her chatting away and part of me feels like I need to go be involved in her playtime. Like it’s not fair that she’s playing alone or something? Which is ridiculous because I loved being alone as a kid, so who’s to say she doesn’t also? She practically sprints upstairs after lunch each day. And beyond the fact that she appears to enjoy playing alone, I am not 30-going-on-3. I’ve got adult things to do and I do not need to play with an almost-three-3-year-old doing almost-three-year-old things. I wonder why I don’t feel like it’s enough that I clean/clothe/feed/read to/take to the park/cook with/set up with various crafts and art stuff. That is most certainly enough! And yet here we are.
Where do you fall on reasoning with unreasonable toddlers and playing kid games with your kids?
I listened to that one too! And it made me feel weird because I DO NOT feel any great responsibility to get on the floor and play. They ask me all the time of course, and sometimes I do, but most of the time I say things like, “I have to unload the dishwasher so we have clean plates for dinner. You can help me if you want!” And sometimes they help but most of the time they decline and they are totally fine with that. The only time I feel badly is when Charlotte wants me to push her on the swing because she can’t pump her legs yet and her sister can. In those cases I usually DO abandon my grown up stuff if the weather is decent.
Charlotte has been screaming a ton lately and it makes me insane. She has one volume and one tone to express her displeasure and it it will break anyone’s ears. Three is going to be interesting with her. (Three is my least favorite age so far.)
A year or so ago it dawned on me that I am not a Get on the Floor and Play parent. That is T. He can play with the kids for HOURS on the floor. I cannot. It is both boring and I have other things that I think about that need to get done in order for us to have clean undies and food to eat for dinner. I am, however, the I’ll Take You Anywhere parent. I’ve always been willing to throw someone in the car and take them places. Even when Iris had that damn oxygen tank and Ezra was two–let’s get out, fools! That, though, was not T.
So I guess we each have our thing.
My OB gave me what I think is wise parenting advice. I’m there to make sure he’s safe and secure (and all that entails) but I am not in charge of his happiness 100% of the time. Sure, I can give him ways/experiences/opportunities to find happiness, but part of parenting we forget is if we give them everything to make them happy, they won’t know how to seek out these things on their own. Does that make sense?
I am not a big fan of playing with Eriana. I do it, sometimes, but not nonstop. By the time I get her from school and we get home each day there’s about an hour, sometimes less, before I need to get dinner started. So I try to be a sport for that short amount of time, even if I have to sit on the floor and diaper baby dolls for 30 mins straight (why do her dolls pretend poop so much?). And I will play with her on weekends, but I think a lot of it is working mom guilt.
My daughter has always been vocal about the things she does and does not want. Sadly this has morphed into the tiny terrorist routine. She has a seriously smart mouth on her too. I say “please pick up your room.” she says “I can’t” Or “I don’t have to!!!” and then throws herself into the floor and starts screaming. And not the I saw a bug scream but the I’m bleeding and going to die scream. And I know it’s just the age, but sometimes I feel like a bad mother because I have no idea how to reason with her. Lol and then I see these articles and I feel a little better. Not much but a least a little. Lol thank you for sharing.