Category Archives: Every Day Scoops

When do I get to have my tantrum?

Posted on September 26, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

He was 16 months when he stood with me in the kitchen, asking for an “Ookie.”

“No cookies now. After dinner. Okay?” I said and away he toddled.

A moment later I found him on the floor in the hall, writhing and screaming. Immediately, I was alarmed. What was happening? Should I call a doctor? What was he doing?

I bent down. “Baby? What’s the matter? Are you okay? Baby?”

Still squirming like Linda Blair from the Exorcist, he wailed, “Wan ookie!!”

Huh? Was this a tantrum? It was my first. My older son had never had one. I watched with fascination.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. This was the same child who when I tried sleep training, absolutely trained me. I didn’t think a seven month old could cry that long and continuously. Ultimately, I spent the next two years sitting at the base of his crib every night until he fell asleep. Well trained, but not exactly what I was going for.

When we potty trained, it was the same business. Forget the stickers or M&M’s. No bribery, reason or compromise could make him go. Finally, I threw my hands in the air and gave up. The next day, he decided he was ready and went on his own.

Now eight years-old, he is my most charming, social and independent child. Yet he is still a spit fire, who has spent the last seven years mastering his button pushing technique. He no longer writhes on the floor, now his tantrums are much more manipulative and exhausting.

Yesterday, when we were about to leave, he decided that he didn’t want to go to his brother’s baseball game. While I understood, frankly, he had no choice.

I took a deep breath. “We are going. Please don’t make this difficult.”

Hands over the ears. “Lalalalala! I can’t hear you!”

I hate when he does that.

“Your friends will be there.” I said nicely, through gritted teeth.

“I’M NOT GOING!”

“I’m going to have to take away your iTouch.”

“Good! Take it! I don’t want it anyway!”

“Come on!” I practically begged.

He went to hide behind a chair. “NO! You can’t make me!”

That was it. I could make him and sadly, I showed him how, by dragging him by the arm into the car.

His little body felt even lighter than the fifty pounds it was. He screamed the whole time and embarrassingly, I screamed back.

Once in the car, I took deep breaths. I was so angry, I couldn’t speak. I was mad at him and at myself. He was making me a bad parent, I thought spitefully.

Why not blame the eight year-old?

“Baby,” I said calmly. “None of that was okay. I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

He just shrugged. “Okay, me too.” Now that he was in the car, the drama was over. “When do you think I can get my iTouch back?” he asked sweetly.

He can turn off as quick as he turns it on. I’ll give him that.

He has always been unbreakable, but every so often it would nice if he could just give me a break.

I know it’s hard to believe.

11 Comments

Posted in Every Day Scoops and tagged bad mommy moment, frustrated mommy, give me a break, parenting, tantrums, willful children. Bookmark the permalink.

I lost my edge, but kept my fingers.

Posted on September 24, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

When I got the email from a friend telling me she had given my name to this college girl who got credit for coming to my house to give a presentation, I thought I was doing someone a favor for school. So, even though it was annoying and it took up a bunch of time I didn’t have, I met with her.

As soon as she started her presentation, I realized I had been suckered. Or, I don’t read my emails carefully enough. Yes, she was a college student, but this was a job, selling high end cutlery door to door through recommendation. Think Avon lady with a knife.

I didn’t want to buy anything, but I could tell I was in trouble. First off, I’m a people pleaser. Second, I’m an idiot and third, I actually needed knives.

She started her schpeel and demo, cutting through a thick rope easily. Before she pulled out the aluminum can, I cut her off. “Listen, I know they’re good knives. Just tell me how much.”

Very smoothly, she rattled off numbers higher than my couch and dining room table combined. I maintained poker face. Oh yeah, I’d consider buying a set knives for a couple of grand. No problem. Was it the leftover cereal bowls and frozen pancakes on the table that gave you the impression I was a top chef?

Instead of showing her the door, I bought four knives for about $250. I know. What was wrong with me? Still, I justified that I needed knives, these were good ones and I’d never buy another knife as long as I lived.

Quickly, I realized how short that would be if I wasn’t careful.

The first time, I pulled a knife from its sheath to inspect it, I thought it looked pretty… dangerous. I turned it over in my hand, and when I looked down again my finger was oozing blood. What? I didn’t even feel anything. Crap.

The second time, I pulled out a knife, I just wanted to make a small tear in a plastic bag I was having trouble opening. This time, I felt it touch my finger, and knew without looking that the bag wasn’t the only thing with a tear. Yup. Gaping, gushing wound.

Bandaged on two fingers, I now assessed the knives skeptically. When my oldest asked for a sliced apple, I stared them down and walked on by. When my middle wanted his sandwich cut, again, I eyed my expensive cutlery but passed it up.

I was afraid of them.

My aunt was third to try a knife. Poor woman made the mistake of wanting a bagel. I said, “I have a serrated knife but it’s verrrrry sharp.”

“Don’t worry.” She said, a little too cavalierly.

“Seriously,” I warned. “Be careful.”

One minute later her finger was gushing. “The knife just touched me.” She said in disbelief.

The next day, I ran into a friend at the supermarket. “What happened to you?” She asked looking at my bandaged fingers.

“New knives.” I said sadly.

“Cutco?” She asked, naming the brand.

“OMG Yes! How did you know?”

She held up a hand with a finger bandaged. “Sliced the top right off. It’s just sort of growing back.”

Those knives were going back immediately.

I may have dull knives, but I am a sharp girl… who likes fingers.

Buh bye, instruments of death.

37 Comments

Posted in Every Day Scoops, Uncategorized and tagged Cutco knives, cutlery, good knives, sharpest knife in the drawer, Top Chef. Bookmark the permalink.

My children are perfect, and always will be.

Posted on September 17, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

My children are perfect.

Right now, one is stomping up the stairs in a fit of temper. I asked him to go to his room to cool off, but mid-way, he has decided not to give me that satisfaction.

“You want me to go to my room?” He huffs. “Then I think I’ll stay right here!”

So now he’s back, fuming. His big, green eyes bright with insult.

“So, stay right here.” I say agreeably, refusing to be drawn into his tantrum.

“Oh, you want me to stay here? Then I’m going to my room!” He yells and stomps back up the stairs.

I keep my smile on the inside, but little bits of it come out in the upturn of my mouth.

The minute he is gone from the room, my little one, five now, not really so little, jumps in front of me, pulling on my arm, dancing around me annoyingly. “Mama! I want you to play legos with me. Now! Can we play now?”

He’s biting the neckline of his shirt, exactly like I’ve asked him not to do a thousand times. I don’t want to play legos, but his little face is insistent. He is desperate to play, clenching the shirt tightly between his teeth, squinting his eyes real hard, hoping his wish will be answered, that I will not say, “wait” for the third time, that I will just play, which I do, but not without a heavy sigh. Did I mention I really don’t want to play?

My oldest son bounds in like a puppy. “Mommy? Can you get me a snack?” I should tell him to get it himself.

He’s eleven, but I’m all too happy to be released from lego prison. Besides, he may be my oldest but he’s my least responsible; more likely than my five year-old to spill his cup of water or rip open a bag of pretzels to drop right to the floor like pick-up sticks. Right now, I’m trying not to notice that his tee shirt is both inside out and backwards.

I come back to find him happily engaged with my youngest. They are soaring their creations around each other, complete with battle sound effects. I place the pretzels and drink down, and hear my middle son storming down the stairs. He pauses when we make eye contact, just long enough to growl at me.

These three boys, so different, physically, emotionally, developmentally; each with their strengths and weakness, yet, there are moments I am blown away by their absolute perfection; their eyes full of hope, their growing psyches, their innocence and their honesty, their flawless youth.

They are not tainted by the world, have not suffered crushing rejections and disappointment. They have not been stripped of their pride, had to learn real life lessons, had their dreams shattered around them. Their lives are open, their paths, a journey and an adventure. They are beautiful in their possibility and their promise.

They are as children should be. Perfect. Untainted. And I try not to get emotional, when I realize the inevitable; that they will grow, and become people. People with baggage. It breaks my heart a little, but then I remember, they will always be perfect, because they will always be my babies.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.
Poo. Poo. Poo.

48 Comments

Posted in Boys!, Every Day Scoops and tagged always be my babies, growing older, growing up, parenting, perfect children. Bookmark the permalink.

I go for a run. Or so I thought.

Posted on September 12, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

We had so many things going on that day, but I figured I’d squeeze in a couple of miles just to kick the day off right. When my husband gave the official eye roll of agreement, I grabbed my Ziploc bag with a cinnamon mint and my cell and was off and running.

Trot, trot, trot. I was cruising along, minding my own mind, trying to decide whether I should wear my navy and cream maxi dress or capris with this cutesy new top my mom just bought me – yes, deep thoughts, people – when my Runkeeper app announced in that warm, automated bank teller voice, “Five minutes, .5 miles with an average pace of 10 minutes 2 seconds per mile.”*

I wasn’t really paying attention because a 10 minute mile for today’s run was perfect. Until I turned the corner and almost collided with a woman I sort of know from either baseball or elementary school or possibly from the neighborhood. She could be a friend of a friend. I don’t know, but I knew her and she knew me and we said hello as she passed me by.

I followed her butt from a car length or so behind and started racing her in my head. I sped up a little, then worried that we’d have this awkward moment where we were running side by side. I’ll just cross the street if that happens, I told myself. I wouldn’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable.

Congratulating myself on this brilliant idea, I realized that in the minutes that had passed I was no closer to catching her than I was before. Hmm. Might have to speed up a bit more. Now I’m panting, still waiting for that moment where – oh, ha ha, here we are together – but I had made zero progress.

WTF?! I did a self-confidence check. I’m in decent shape. I’m pretty competitive. I’m not a speed demon, but I’m no slack. She didn’t even look like she was running hard, while I imagine a photo of me would reveal someone who looked like they needed medical attention.

At that moment, Runkeeper announced, “15 minutes, 1.75 miles, with an average pace of 9 minutes 17 seconds per mile.*” Well, that’s certainly faster. Yet, I’m still at least a car length – if not two – behind her.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, she trips.

I watched her fall to the ground and do a kind of half roll. My mouth dropped open, and I am definitely not thinking that this is the moment I catch up to her. I am going to make sure she is okay. I get a little closer and yell, “Are you okay?” but before I reach her, she is back up and on the move again, brushing herself off as she goes.

She doesn’t even turn around, but gives me a little half wave in acknowledgment. Within two minutes, we are back at our regular spots, her striding ahead, me lagging behind.

I’m pissed – no biggie, just a pelvic wall thing from the babies – and I’m frustrated. All my dormant competitive instincts now come alive. Oh yeah, let’s take it up a notch.

I do gain a little ground, but quickly realize as I huff and puff that I am not going to blow this house down. Besides, I wonder, what would I do if I actually caught her? I could probably only match her pace for about a minute, before giving some ridiculous little wave of triumph and slowly falling back to my rightful place behind her.

No. I was humiliated enough. I slowed and followed her swaying short shorts until I hit my block and turned. She, of course, continued on, forever in front of me, just out of reach.

When I got home, Runkeeper clocked my fastest mile at 8:27. Not bad. I probably should run with her more often.

*Numbers are approximately accurate, just in case you’re checking my math. 😉

17 Comments

Posted in Every Day Scoops, Weight Watching and tagged aging, competition, exercise, Runkeeper, running, speed demon. Bookmark the permalink.

Another day in paradise…

Posted on September 3, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

It just changes you. I don’t know whether it’s the brainwashing from years of watching the television commercials showing pristine beaches and sun drenched skies; the happy faced islanders inviting you into their secret, but the moment you arrive at your tropical destination, your eyes soften by the view, and so do your perceptions, your values, your needs. As your blood pressure drops with each gentle wave lapping to shore, you can feel yourself slowing, smiling more easily, melting into your lounge chair.

It is easy. All of a sudden, life is easy. Those urgent issues and obligations that required your attention, the laundry and errands that needed to be done, all disappear on the endless watercolor horizon.

The children in their suits, splashing, running, turn golden – even with the constant gooping on of the sunscreen, and soon you even relax about that. Because they don’t just turn golden from the sun, they shine with health and happiness and pleasure. They are native, they are free, they are perfect. And you see it. You see their perfection in this crazy dream of a place, where you are lazy but energized, sublimely dreamy, yet more keenly awake then you’ve been in months.

You wonder why you don’t take vacations more often? Why vacations aren’t more like real life? Why we can’t somehow meld these easy feelings into our every day. Why this can’t be real life. Because it certainly feels real. It feels vibrant and full. It feels warm and intoxicating. It feels like what life should be, if life were about finding peace in your soul.

But even in a place with service so relaxed you might wind up getting dinner while waiting for your breakfast, the days roll by, and soon you have rinsed your child’s sand covered toes for the last time, and you suck in your last sweet breath of air suffused with nature’s Valium.

The colorful fish disappear with the packed snorkel gear and we see the last lazy chameleon idling across the way. It is a long trip back to real life, our eyes and our brains gradually adjusting to the harsh change of scenery; the long uncomfortable plane ride, the cranky, bickering children. The bright, unnaturally blue waters recede into the background, replaced by grey buildings and technology and people who seem more grey as well.

It is shocking yet familiar and we readily accept what we know. We pull up to our quiet street, which looks altogether different but no less beautiful than where we were, and carry exhausted children to their beds, which they curl into, smiling blissfully, like they’ve been reunited with a lost friend.

Giant bags of laundry and unpacking left for the morning. The time line that was offline is resetting. Things will be done again. But for now, there is sleep and hope for one more night on an island of dreams.

13 Comments

Posted in Every Day Scoops and tagged island time, life, philosophy, relaxation, st. thomas, vacation. Bookmark the permalink.

A review of books and parenting

Posted on August 15, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

Okay, so I’m a week or two, or three, over deadline, but the last challenge in the 31 days to a Better Blog over at Yeah Write was to write a review. Even though I’ve never written a review, I’ve recently read some pretty good books, so I figured, why not? And because I’m quite the multi-tasker, I thought I’d try a double review, of both books and my parenting skills.

How do those things tie together you wonder? Let me introduce you to my rating system.

1 star – I’m making fresh dinners, playing ball with the kids on the lawn, going bike riding, etc… Book? What book? Oh, right… that thing in my bag getting covered in cookie crumbs and marks from loose crayons.

2 stars – Kids and I are running and playing. The book comes out randomly while waiting for kids to finish up whatever they are doing. Still rather watch Housewives.

3 stars – I’m reading while pretending to watch kids play on lawn. Here’s an iTouch, kid, now go away. We’re out for pizza dinner, where I read and ignore their antics, oblivious to any dirty looks.

4 stars – Hiding in bathroom to finish chapter. Will fix your boo boo after I finish my page. Here’s some scissors, go play outside. How annoying, you want to eat? Fine. Humph! Sure watch TV all night. Just don’t bother me, I’m reading.

Now that you know the system, here’s a review of the last four books I’ve read.

I just finished Plan B by Jonathan Tropper. Tropper wrote, This is where I leave you, one of my favorite reads, certainly of last year – or it may have been the year before that, who could tell with how fast these years fly. It may even make my all-time top 10, although I’d really have to give that some more thought. Anyway, total Tropper voice in a likable ensemble, only he’s 30 years-old and having an identity crisis… Who am i? What am I doing with my life? Whine, whine. Filled with fun, 80’s references and easy to read, but lacking the depth, heartbreak and hilarity of This is where I leave you. Plan B gets a B – 2 ½ stars.

Me Before You by Jojo Moyes. I picked this book up because I read somewhere that Anne Lamott recommended it. And truly, since reading Bird By Bird decades back, I will read whatever Anne writes and I will read whatever Anne recommends. I still fondly recall being so inspired by that book, I’d run to my desk early to ignore my work and write. Ah, those were the days.

Me Before You is the story of a quadriplegic who wants to die and his caretaker who has no life. Sounds depressing, but it’s actually not heavy handed and I was completely sucked in. So sucked in that for the three nights it took me to finish, my kids had cereal and milk and apples for dinner. Which is way better than when I was reading the Hunger Games, because no one ate during the 18 hours it took me to finish that book. Me Before You – 3 1/2 stars.

Reconstructing Amelia by Kimberly McCreight is about a mother trying to piece together the details surrounding her daughter’s unexpected death by retracing her last days on social media. Once I started, I was hooked. Reminiscent of Gone Girl in the suspenseful pacing, and changing perspectives, just not as psychotic or as good. A great summer read, even after summer. Solid 3 stars.

Starring Jules by Beth Ain. Yep, it’s a children’s book. This charming story about a feisty 2^nd grader preparing for an audition for a mouthwash commercial completely captures youth in all its nervous hopefulness. From navigating friendship to conquering your fears, Jules voice is so truly, precociously eight, you can’t help but love her and root for her. What made this book even better was that I could enjoy it with my kids, so I couldn’t ignore them at all, thus placing its rating completely off the charts.

So what I’ve learned here is that unless you’re reading together, good books mean bad parenting. But that hasn’t deterred me. Hopefully, my kids will see how much I love books, then someday they will ignore their own children. A parent can only hope.

http://yeahwrite.me/moonshine/

36 Comments

Posted in Every Day Scoops, Writing and tagged Anne Lamott Bird by Bird, book reviews, good reads, Jonathan Tropper, love to read, Me Before You, Starring Jules by Beth Ain, Yeah write. Bookmark the permalink.

Follow the Bouncing Balls

Posted on August 13, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

“Mommy! Get that ball!” My five-year old calls out as I’m walking out the door, holding a coffee in one hand, a water bottle under my arm, my 40 pound pocketbook over my shoulder, two camp knapsacks over the other arm, and a bag of dirty clothes for the dry cleaner.

A wrapped granola bar for my oldest dangles from my mouth. “Oh yeah,” I mutter, through gritted teeth. “Let me get that for you.”

“What?” He jumps in front of me. “What?”

“Get the ball, mommy!” My 11 year-old calls out, leaning on his wiffle bat.

I’m struggling with the keys, trying to press the button that automatically opens my mini-van door and not drop my coffee, or I’d freak on them.

“Mommy? Can you get the ball?” He asks again. Seriously, does he not have eyes? Or legs?

Only my 8 year-old has the ability to see outside of himself.

“Can I help you? He asks. “I can take my bag.”

I try to smile with my eyes, the only unencumbered part of my body, but I keep moving. Any disruption would cause everything to drop faster than a pair of old boobs on new twins.

I make it to the car and dump everything onto the seat, except my coffee, which I gently place in its holder.

Whew. 8am and I’m already done, but of course, it’s just beginning. I need to drive the oldest to baseball camp, the middle to day camp and the youngest… Damn, the youngest has no camp.

“Mommy! You didn’t get the ball!” My 5 year-old accuses, which I ignore.

“Get in the car, please.”

They pile in and once settled, I run to retrieve the wiffle ball and toss it on the lawn. We’re ready.

First stop! Camp for Boy 1 in next town.

Second stop! Camp for Boy 2 in town next to next town.

Then me and Boy 3 drop the dry cleaning, stop at the supermarket and head home to play legos,haveacatch,drawpictures,watchshowwhileidoelliptical&eatlunch.

Pick-up time!

First stop! Boy 1.

Second stop! Boy 2.

Third stop. Train station in totally different town to pick up daddy.

We get there in about 20 minutes, but have almost an hour before the train. My middle has a game tonight so he changes into his uniform in the back while they eat the snacks I packed and watch episodes of the Brady Bunch on the minivan TV. All hail the minivan TV.

This is our down time. Hope you’re enjoying it. Want a cheese stick?

Once husband/coach is in the car, we head straight for the field.

Throw. Catch. Pitch. Strike. Run. We win. Yay! Or, we lose. Boo!

Either way, we head home.

Once inside, I collect their dirty clothes and send their dirty bodies to the shower.

“Look, Mama,” My 5 year-old says over and over, and every time I do, he’s in a different naked position displaying himself.

Balls. Balls. Balls.

I hear my husband click on the TV, and the room fills with baseball.

No way he’s going to score tonight.

Catching Z’s

65 Comments

Posted in baseball, Every Day Scoops and tagged balls, baseballs, carpooling, follow the bouncing balls, i'm a baseball sacrifice, parenting, summer schlepping, wiffle ball. Bookmark the permalink.

This the best sucky summer ever!

Posted on August 8, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

These are the three most frequent complaints coming out of my mouth this summer.

I can’t believe 5 year-old is not in camp.

Are you kidding me, another game tonight??

5 year-old is annoying me.

It’s true, this summer has not gone according to plan. Not that I had a plan, but I wasn’t prepared for baseball averaging five nights a week, and my five year-old putting the kabash on camp for even a few hours each day. On top of that, 8 year-old had some bus issues, so now I’m driving him every morning and either picking him at camp or at a friend’s each afternoon.

There’s a whole lot of schlepping back and forth, a whole lot of laundry and a whole lot of run, run, run! At times, I feel frustrated, stressed and a little overwhelmed. For some reason, I expected summer to be more relaxing, but reality has crushed my expectations.

The truth is my crushed reality is actually a very satisfying, full summer. Yes, I pretty much have seen no friends. Yes, I’ve had very little down time. And, even though, my 5 year-old and I are spending so much quality time together that the word quality is questionable, I can see a day in the not so near future when I am no longer his favorite person. He will not cling to me like this forever. I don’t know if we’ll even make it another year, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to appreciate this beautiful, bouncy boy constantly tugging annoyingly at my shirt.

I love you. Now go away.

Even as my feisty 8 year-old spits fire in my direction, I marvel at his desperate and aggressive need for independence. Plus, the minute he runs out of steam, he happily holds my hand.

Almost out of steam… Allllmooost.

While my 11 year-old may ignore me while meditating to a computer game, I live for the goofy grin I get once he recognizes I’ve been trying to reach him from the outside world.

Wait for it…

Ahhh!

And baseball? Well, despite it being my least favorite major league sport, there’s nothing like watching your kid play. Even if you’re watching with your hands covering your eyes, while gritting your teeth and holding your breath.

So on many summer nights, okay most, I am lounging in my Tommy Bahama chair, an iced coffee in the side drink pocket, surrounded by friendly parents, cheering our kids while our other kids become part of the scenery; having a catch or kicking a ball, or even sometimes, when the slushies are really blue and the pretzels are salty and soft, leaning up against the fence watching their brother play.

I’ve got nothing to complain about.

I know why the caged bird sings…

13 Comments

Posted in Every Day Scoops and tagged appreciate life, enjoy yourself. it's later than you think, enjoying the summer schlepp, God laughs, i thought summer would be better, parenting, you plan. Bookmark the permalink.

Healthy competition vs. Sibling rivalry

Posted on August 1, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

I admit it. Our family is a little competitive. Okay, a lot competitive. Okay, the most competitive! Seriously, our family is more competitive than your family.

And, since I’m brainwashed by motherhood to take it easy on the small wusses, I mean children, I’m probably the least competitive of the bunch.

All three of my boys, ages 5, 8 and 11, compete on everything from who can stare without blinking the longest to who will get to the car first. They compete on whose drawing is better, who grew more, who likes pizza the most or even who’s the rightful owner of the number five.

5 year-old – My favorite number is 5.

11 year-old – Hey, that’s my number!

8 year-old – No it’s mine, because David Wright is number five.

5 year-old – Well, I am five!

11 year-old – I liked it before you guys were born!

Their competitive streak runs deeper as well. They argue over who is the most likable, smartest, or, the ever popular, who can love mommy more, with all three of them simultaneously trying to squeeze the life out of me.

Competition might just run in their blood. My husband, aka Coach, aka Mr. Baseball, leads the charge in all the sports they play, especially baseball. When not at a game or practice, Coach and his boys are on the lawn engaged in some kind of game that usually ends with one or more of my children crying over who won or who lost.

Coach’s dad, Grandpa H, is no competitive slouch himself. Whether playing my kids, a geriatric, one-eyed, limping widow or men his own age, his joyous cries of victory, after killing a shot, echo from mountain top to mountain top.

And my mom, Grandma S, for all her giggly cute smiles, is a shark in short shorts. No one, not even Charlie Sheen on a crazy streak, takes winning more seriously.

Whether nature or nurture, I find competition healthy and productive, for both the winning aspect and the losing. However, when it occurs, as it does regularly, inside of the family, it’s another story. The results of competition as sibling rivalry range from frustrating tantrums at the least to confidence crushing at the worst.

Competing with a sibling, especially one older is almost a guaranteed set up for failure and feelings of inadequacy. No matter how much I protest and remind them that they are in completely different developmental ages and stages, they have already categorized themselves according to the other.

I can’t stand the idea of my middle son thinking he’s less than his older brother, simply because he’s competing against unfair parameters. My youngest is still young enough not to be affected, but my middle guy constantly beats himself up. No matter what I say, he refuses to believe his own worth. He just shrugs and says almost defiantly, “I’m just not as good.” It breaks my heart.

It’s hard to draw the line between healthy competition and unhealthy sibling rivalry. I want my kids to be competitive, just not with each other. Yet, I don’t know how to stop it.

Early on, I even inadvertently encouraged it with little contests designed to motivate. You know… “Who’s going to get in bed first?” Or, a favorite, “Who can be quiet longest?” I don’t do that anymore, but back then I didn’t realize the seeds I was planting. Still, even without the mommy motivator or the daddy influence, I don’t know if they’d be much different.

It’s like they’re in a race with each other from birth… my oldest far ahead, my middle struggling to keep up and my youngest, not really caring as much, and just kind of attaching himself to the oldest in all his glory. Sigh.

It seems all I can do is be aware of it, discourage it, and do my best to build each of my children up on their individual strengths.

Those articles I read about birth order and sibling rivalry are true. The race starts right from the womb, with the finish line being the only one that no one wants to cross first.

40 Comments

Posted in baseball, Every Day Scoops and tagged boys and competition, competitive families, healthy competition, parenting same sex kids, sibling rivalry, tough being the middle son, unhealthy competition. Bookmark the permalink.

I’ll be right here waiting

Posted on July 17, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

“Tyler. Come on, it’s time to get up.”

I gently shake my ten year-old. His strong, tan body is twisted in blankets, little stuffed animals cradled around his head.

“Wait,” comes his sleepy, muffled response, and I may or may not drop shorts and a tee-shirt on his head before giving up and walking, in a weird side step around his massive maze of cars, army men and dragons, from his room.

“Tyler,” I yell from downstairs. “Breakfast is on the table.”

“Wait.” He calls back. “I’m finishing my set-up.”

“Camp doesn’t care if you’re finishing a set-up. We’ve got to go.”

A small, distant, “wait” floats down to me. It is almost lost in the morning noise; a 5 year-old bouncing at my legs begging me to color for him, a Facetime conversation that my 8 year-old is having with a girl friend he’s had since he was two, the ding of the toaster, the beloved pour and sputter of the Keurig.

At the table, spooning in some, uh, organic Reese’s Puffs, I again encourage him to hurry, but he is busy with the comics and ignores me. “Read this!” He says, pointing to Zits. “It’s funny.”

Then he points to The Lockhorns. “I don’t get it.”

Amusing. He’s already identifying with the teenager comic and totally doesn’t get Loretta thinking her husband is more of a meatball than her meatball.

“Tyler, get your sneakers on. I told you twice already.”

“Wait.” He says off-handedly, heading toward his laptop. “I just need two minutes on this game.”

“Tyler…” I warn thru gritted teeth.

“Wait.” He says again, almost pleadingly. His eyes dart from me to the screen. “One more minute.”

Seconds from me slamming the screen shut, he triumphantly does a last tick on the keyboard and closes it down. “Done!” He beams.

It’s hard not to beam back at that face, but somehow I manage a small growl.

Finally, everyone has what they need, and has done what they have to. “Okay, ready.” I shout to the air, because no way anyone is listening. Miraculously, my two younger boys head for the door and walk directly into the screen that they are asked not to run into, every day.

My oldest has disappeared. I find him back at the computer.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything I beat him to it. “If you tell me to wait, I might lose it.”

He smiles, nods mischievously, and says in his playful, patronizing voice, “Oh don’t worry, little mommy. I won’t say that bad word. It’s all good. See?” With exaggerated slowness, he shuts the laptop screen. “All ready.”

“Uh, baby, your sneakers aren’t on.”

Again, that sweet, goofy smile.

In a few days, my beautiful 10 year-old will be 11. Soon, he will be running out of the house, instead of me pushing him.

Suddenly, I’m not in such a rush.

“Wait!” I want to cry. “Wait.”

Hey mama, what’s taking you so long?

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Posted in Every Day Scoops and tagged always waiting, growing up, growing up too fast, mom of boys, no rush to grow up, parenting, trying to get out of the house, waiting for my kids. Bookmark the permalink.

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