This evening at dinnertime I overheard my sons participating in a conversation that was far more wise and poignant than people generally believe small children are capable of having.
They were seated in our new kitchen with their sister at the small table they love, their three tiny chairs pulled up to its sides.
I've been on my own for most of the week with them, as my poor husband has worked valiantly to wrap up our move from the old house and work two jobs at the same time.
Which is my shorthand for letting you know that I am really exhausted at the end of every day and by the time I get dinner on the table for them I am more than happy to sink into the couch in the next room and rest my eyes while they chat.
But I've jumped ahead. Here is the setup:
All three children had been ravenous, and unfortunately I lagged in getting them fed. I kept saying, "Mommy just needs to unpack ONE more box so the house will be nice when Daddy gets home..." which means that from 5pm until 6pm they were waiting patiently while I continued to get us settled into the new house. At some point I knew I had overextended their limit and began to get busy in the kitchen, but it was too late... the collective meltdown had already commenced.
Each of my kids fall apart in different ways when they are tired or hungry. My baby girl gets very clingy and throws herself on my legs or feet, rubbing her head against me and acting generally overwrought. The younger boy begins to ask the same question over and over again, repeating himself and completely ignoring my answers (E.g. "Can I have milk?" / "You may have some with dinner." / "Can I have milk?" / "I've just told you, at dinnertime." / "Can I have milk?" / etc.etc.etc.
Our eldest son is more sensitive and he tends to get dramatic and emotional when breaking down. "WHAT????!!! DINNER ISN'T READY YET???? ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? OH, COME ON, MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
This evening he went a little too far with me in his tirade about my lack of promptness with the meal and so I quietly told him that he could be excused from the table until he could act in a kinder manner to his mother. He really lost it then, and started to wail and scream ~ stomping around the house yelling, "MY MOMMY IS MEAN AND I AM HUNGRY!!!!"
When dinner was finally on the table I invited him to join his brother and sister. He did so, grumbling all the way. After making sure they had everything they needed (finely cut up chicken, Brussels sprouts, rice, milk... more milk, more chicken, more Brussels sprouts, more rice) I retired to the next room ~ four feet away from their table ~ to rest my aching back and decompress. I was in the middle of stretching my arms over my head and wondering what time my husband would be home this evening when I heard my son say "Mommy".
"What?" I asked.
"NO mommy," said my little son... "We weren't talking to you."
"Oh, sorry."
After a brief pause they renewed their conversation.
"Why are you so mean to mommy?"
"I'm not mean."
"Well you are very fussy sometimes."
"It's just that she isn't paying attention to me."
"Well she isn't going to pay attention to you if you are yelling and screaming." (This is my little one talking! The three year old!)
"I don't know how to get her attention."
"If you want our mommy's attention you need to speak to her in a quiet and calm voice. Then she will listen to you."
"I don't know if that will work."
"She will listen to you if you speak in a quiet voice and say, 'Mommy I would like your attention please'."
"What if she doesn't pay attention?"
"She will. You should also give her a hug and a kiss."
"I don't want to give her a hug and a kiss."
"You should give her a hug and a kiss and ask her in a quiet voice to pay attention to you. Then she will listen."
"OK, I will try."
(Meanwhile I, who have overheard the entire exchange, am waiting to shower my elder son with kindness just for making the effort.)
"Mommy?"
"Yes, honey?"
In a very tiny voice: "Will you please pay attention to me?"
"What a nice question honey. Will you be speaking with kindness to us this evening?"
"Yes."
"I would love to pay attention to you. Why don't you finish your supper and then we can have a nice conversation."
"Okay."
(He vanished back into the kitchen with his brother and sister.)
"SHE SAID YES! SHE SAID SHE WOULD PAY ATTENTION TO ME!!!"
"That is great! Did you give her a hug and a kiss?"
"No.... but she still said she would pay attention to me!"
"Good job, brother."
They then returned to the business of inhaling their dinner. I sat on the couch with tears in my eyes marveling at how what seems like a lousy moment can turn into an amazing moment just when one least expects it. I am always surprised and amazed when my sons turn from sworn enemies to best friends, but this took the surprise further. The boys were actually connecting with and learning from each other, with the elder boy actively listening to the advice and perspective of the little one.
So this then is the #60092th reason why I love being a mother more than anything else in the world. Just when you think you've failed and your tantrum throwing children will someday be discussing with their therapists how long you made them wait to eat dinner while you unpacked boxes, they turn around and surprise you by showing maturity and emotional savvy far beyond their years.
I am so proud of you, little guys. You inspire me to be a better mother ~ I promise to get dinner on the table early tomorrow!
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