The obvious question I have for her then, is this: How exactly do we give others the power to hurt us? Do we give them this power simply by loving them?
If we make ourselves vulnerable to the sting of verbal arrows simply by allowing ourselves to feel heartfelt emotion then I'm not exactly sure how to shield myself from the spiteful barbs that come my way from my children at times. It's not like I can stop loving them... they are the most precious and sacred beings in my life. I *made* them. They will forever be an integral part of me.
That said, what a little doofus!
Tonight we were talking about Summer vacation which is rapidly approaching - just two more weeks of school to go. (Hard to believe that we're about to be the parents of a six year old first grader!!!)
Money is very tight for our family at the moment although I firmly believe that things are looking up and that soon we will be in a much better position fiscally. At this exact moment though there is no money for summer camp for my children, especially as our middle son will be attending private summer school to make up for all of the learning he's missed in the past four months.
Tonight then, I had a brief talk with the eldest boy about the lengthy school vacation that we are about to spend together.
"Honey, I'm so excited that I get to spend your Summer break with you!"
"Well I'm not."
"Not what?"
"Not excited to spend it with you."
"Oh. Well, why? We're going to have a great time!"
"You are not fun. I don't have fun with you."
"I'm sorry to hear you feel that way."
"I'd rather be with my Dad. He's more fun than you."
"Oh, yes - well I can see what you mean. Your father is a very fun man. Unfortunately he has to work during the week so I guess you're stuck with me."
"But you're not fun."
"That really is too bad. I'll just have to do my best to BE more fun for you."
I thought about it for a moment.
"Hey - wait a minute," I added. "The last full day you spent with me, I took you to the movies and to get Mexican food and ice cream. You said you had a great time! How is that not fun?"
"It was okay. But I get bored with you."
"Gosh. Well, I'm sorry but we just don't have the money to send you to fancy camps right now so I guess we'll just have to do our best at home."
"No!!! That's even BORING-ER!"
"Well honey, I'm not sure what else to say. I guess we'll just have to see how it goes."
Turning my attention from him, I began to read a bedtime story to his little brother and sister... "Mr. Putter and Tabby Bake The Cake".
Two minutes later, he was back. "Mom. MOM. MOM!!! I mean to say, I *like* spending time with you. It's fine."
"Um, okay son. So, I'm going to keep reading to your brother and sister now."
"MOM. MOMM!!! MOMMMMMM!!!!! I like spending time with you, okay? I like it."
"Sure, that's good." I continued reading the story.
My son scowled and crossed his arms in front of himself, apparently frustrated by the realization that I wasn't going to get upset in front of him. He watched me for several minutes and at last he slunk toward the bookcase, pulled out a bedtime story and came to sit next to us on the bed.
The episode was over, I tucked the kids into bed and journeyed out into the garden to decompress.
Despite the calm attitude I maintained in the actual situation, I felt seriously annoyed AND bummed about this exchange.
"Why am I letting this get to me?" I wondered, and then realized it must be due to some latent feeling of guilt or self-doubt. "Is his father a better parent than I am? Am I really no fun?"
I've written about this before. It's true, I'm not the fun parent in our family. I'm the parent who goes out of my way to take the children to Target to pick out birthday presents for their friends, the one that wraps the presents and helps them make homemade cards. I'm the one that bathes them, feeds them, gets them into clean clothes and finds their shoes when they are lost so that they will be ready to leave for the party on time.
My husband is the man who actually takes them to the birthday parties. Usually this takes place while I am home cleaning our house and cooking. Yesterday for example, I cleaned and scrubbed for four hours while my husband and sons were at a fantastic birthday party.
Therefore, my son is right. I am not the fun parent and I am not as entertaining to be around as his father is.
What do I DO about this though? Even when I am trying to be fun... arranging playdates, taking he and his siblings to the park, taking them to theme parks, taking them shopping, taking them to the beach, painting with them, taking them to museums, taking them on "adventures"... even then, I'm never enough fun in his eyes.
It's kind of depressing as a parent to think that even when you are doing your best, your kids don't think your best is all that great.
I'm discouraged to realize that my son would perhaps prefer for me to be a full time working mother so that I could pay for him to attend private day camp, rather than spend his entire summer hanging out and going to do stuff with his siblings and me.
I guess this is one of those first big steps in the breaking away/growing up process... that time in which your parent ceases to be someone you admire and becomes someone you find mildly annoying.
Just yesterday his little brother came running up to me to let me know that, "Brother says that little people know more than big people do. You don't understand as much as we do, because you're grown up."
"WOW!" I exclaimed, laughing. "IT'S HAPPENING ALREADY? I DIDN'T THINK YOU GUYS WERE GOING TO THINK WE WERE UNCOOL UNTIL MIDDLE SCHOOL. REALLY? DO YOU KNOW MORE THAN YOUR DAD AND ME ALREADY?"
"Well, um, yeah!" the five year old smiled. "A little bit more."
"HONEY!" I cheered. "HONEY!" I skipped into my husband's home office. "The children are outgrowing us! It's happened! They know more than we do already ~ and they're only three and five!"
"Wow," he laughed. "That was fast!"
We played it up and made a funny joke out of it, but the underlying message was real and unchanged.
Our children are already seeing right through us. My son already thinks he knows more about life than we do. At the age of five he would already prefer to spend his summer in the company of a "cool" camp counselor than his mother.
Like I said at the beginning, I know this shouldn't hurt my feelings.
It does, though.
I gave the kid life less than six years ago and already I've lost my utility to him. Soon all he may value from me ~ for a time ~ will likely be my credit card and chauffeuring ability.
I never really understood the Shel Silverstein novel "The Giving Tree" until I became a mother. Now the book cuts me to the bone every time I read it aloud to my kids. To me, the tree represents a mother nurturing her child.
In the beginning of the story, the boy loves the tree and he wants to play with it all the time. He is never happier than when swinging from its branches and eating its apples. The tree is so happy too, because she loves the boy. This part of the story reminds me of my three year old son who always wants to cuddle on my lap and still thinks he wants to live with me for the rest of his life.
Then time passes and the boy begins to view the tree differently, seeing her more in terms of what she can give to him rather than what they can share together. He takes and takes and takes until she has nothing left to give. He virtually bleeds her dry, taking even her branches and her trunk.
In the end, when he is old-tired-sad, the boy returns to his tree/mother and reflects quietly on how much she has meant to him.
I hate this part of the story. I don't find it remotely comforting that the boy finally appreciates the stump that he'd left half for dead years before. I can tell you right now, I'm not going to let my children suck me dry physically or emotionally... at least not if I can help it!!!
Perhaps though, the tree in the novel knows more about parenthood than I do after less than six years as a mother. Maybe she understands that her role is to stay strong and solid throughout the boy's life, not allowing herself to get her feelings hurt when he repeatedly rejects her in favor of friends, money, girls and worldly desires.
I suppose it's true that the role of a mother is not to judge, but rather to love unconditionally. With that in mind...
...despite his occasional snide remarks and heartfelt viewpoint that I'm about as smart as a rock, I adore my little boy and I really *do* want him to have a good Summer vacation.
Who knows, maybe spending time with me will turn out to be more fun than he thinks! Either way, I'll keep ya posted.
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