Grievances

Confession time: parenting is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. And eight and a half years into this grand voyage, I'm beginning to realize that it isn't the kids who are difficult. It's me.

Take mornings, for example. There's a lot to do. The kids need to eat, Celia likes to sleep, and Lucia usually throws at least one tantrum about something before 7:45. Getting out the door with all three of them is a challenge; leaving early is a miracle. But I'm sure things would go a lot more smoothly if I actually got out of bed at 6:00 instead of 6:30. This is not an impossible task for me. I just don't do it.

At night, my main focus is getting everybody fed, showered, into bed, and asleep. My kids, however, seem to think their job is to stay up as late as possible. (I guess this makes sense...they are kids, after all.) We are thus placed into direct conflict.

A wiser, better, more patient parent than me would use humor and a light touch to move them all through the process. I know this, and I even know how to do this (I did teach at one point!), but I usually opt for a more blunt approach instead, where I say "If you don't do X I will take away Y," which never seems to work, and which always seems to make everybody (including me!) unhappy.

And why am I even rushing them all off to bed? I have nowhere to go; no pressing matters to address. Most nights, I have nothing to do except clean and get lunches ready for the following day.

So the problem is me. My kids are being kids. They haven't yet figured out how to be efficient in the morning, and they want to stay up and read--often, with me!--at night. This is normal stuff. Whatever I find difficult in managing all of this stems from my own issues and shortcomings, not from anything that they are doing.

But today, a small breakthrough.

The morning had begun as usual--kids in various stages of getting ready, me barking instructions to nobody in particular. At some point Andres became upset because I asked Lucia, not him, to help me make my coffee. (In my defense, this was my concession to Lucia in order that she get changed before breakfast). So he said what one of the kids usually says to me in the morning: "daddy you are so mean."

I get it. I am a mean daddy, in that I do not give my children everything they want in the instant that they want it. They do have a difficult life. However, rather than arguing his point, I reached deep into my bag of parental tricks and tried a new strategy.

"I know! I am very mean," I said. "You should go make a list of all the mean things I do."

And with that, he smiled and ran off to the living room to start the list.

Now this maneuver did carry some risk. Perhaps, finally given this opening, he would generate a cascade of complaints stretching back years. (Surely I have wronged him many times since birth.) I may be in trouble.

But not 3 minutes later, he came back with the list:

Daddy mean chart
1. doesn't let me help with coffee
2. Asks to many dumb questions
3. Makes me move somewhere else
4. Has a mean face
5. Not nice
6. Makes me go shoping
7. IS MEAN

Honestly, aside from #1, #2 (which made me laugh out loud), and #6, this is a pretty terrible list (I think he knew it, too). I was vindicated. And humor had won the morning.

It was now getting close to 8 and I needed to finish getting ready for work, so I headed back upstairs. It was crunch time. We were cutting it close again. I really should have gotten out of bed at 6. And then Lucia walked into the bathroom and said those words that you really, really don't want to hear when you have to hop in the car: "Daddy I peed."

Yup, her pants were soaked. As were her socks and, somehow, part of her sweatshirt. Ok. Deep breath. Well, we weren't going to be leaving anytime soon.

I peeled her clothes off and put her in the shower. Four minutes later--after Lucia threw another fit because she wanted to stay in the shower longer--we were upstairs putting on some clean clothes. Then it was a race to get downstairs, get shoes on, get everybody in the car, and head out. Somehow, nobody was late.

Phew, what a morning. I went to work, had kind of a crummy day, and then came home.

And that's when I saw the list again. Except this time, it was taped to the wall--and it had a bunch of edits, made in green:

WOW. HOW COOL IS THAT? While I was powerwashing Lucia, Andres must have reconsidered his list of grievances. I didn't even notice it in the rush to get out the door.

Well, that's a lesson for me. Humor is a good tactic, and I should use it more often. That edited list actually makes me look like a pretty good parent.

But also: I shouldn't strive to make this parenting thing any harder than it already is. I need to stop being so difficult. I wish it were as easy as crossing out and replacing a few words! I'll have to begin to make some small changes, and see where that takes me. Up at 6 tomorrow.

[Editor's note: I did not get out of bed at 6 the next day, though I fully intended to.]