Parenting in the fast lane
I had a little epiphany yesterday. And I wasn’t even drinking at the time.
I was in the great company of my favourite psychologist this week and was telling him about how Mignon was driving me mad with her whining at the supper table on Tuesday night.
We had chicken pie, rice and salad for supper (all her favourite things) and from the get-go we could see that things were going to go pear-shaped for her. In the back of my mind I knew she was probably overtired, but I chose to ignore that screaming little voice and all the flashing warning lights.
She was whining and crying about how she couldn’t cut her chicken pie, literally sitting in a little heap on her chair, when Isabel and Daniel had no problem and it is very much something she is able to do for herself. To cut a long story short it ended up in a time-out for her amid much sobbing and crying and drama. (have I ever mentioned how much I hate drama?)
Supper is a special time for us (or it’s meant to be). It’s the one time of day no-one is in a rush or staring at the TV/computer and we normally have a lovely chat and hear stories about their day that we never would have heard otherwise. So you can imagine that we jealously guard this time with them.
The other thing that is really important to me is fairness. How could I possibly agree to cut Mignon’s chicken pie when we just made Daniel and Isabel cut theirs? What message does that send to them? (this has more to do about my own family stuff. See also: drama)
In the end Etienne basically just picked her up and took her to bed where she stayed until the next morning, she literally passed out. I ended up feeling like a complete bitch, wondering how I could have handled it differently without compromising on the things that are important to me as a person and a parent.
So, the following scenario was presented to me by my shrink:
He had recently heard about a family who believed in the power of prayer and didn’t take their sick child to the doctor. The child then died and by law an autopsy had to be done and they had to go to court. Apparently the judge then suggested that they should have considered placing their love for their child before their personal principles.
This made me think. I have all these issues I am dealing with and mistakes I am trying not to make with my own children, do I sometimes place those principles and the mistakes I so desperately try not to make before my love for my children and what they might need at any given point in time?
The short answer: You bet.
So, next time I’m going to say to Isabel and Daniel “Guys, thanks for cutting your own chicken pie, would you mind if Mom/Dad helped Mignon tonight?” And before jumping on my principles I’m going to try to take a step back and ask myself whether they interfere with my love for my child.
Damn, parenting is hard sometimes.
I have made the most epic of all epic parenting mistakes. Ever.
Daniel hasn’t been well. It started with a sinus thing and skipped along into his chest. We both had a sinus/bronchitis thing this week and where I slowly got better, he just got worse despite being on Antibiotics and was coughing for most of last night.
So, another day at home and another doctor’s appointment and another script later we were hoping for the best.
And then. It hit me like a ton of bricks. He has been eating lunch at aftercare and they have sandwiches on tap for the kids during the afternoons. And stuff like pasta and crumbed food that our son
never hardly ever gets at home because of his multitude of food intolerances. (Wheat, lactose, citrus, Sulphur Dioxide, nuts and most food label items that start with an ‘E’)
We (in our infinite wisdom) decided we would not be the anal retentive OCD patents and see if he could tolerate ‘normal’ foods and only twigged on after weeks of a sick child that clearly he cannot.
I remembered that he had the same chronic sinus/cough thing before we had him tested last time and it only improved when we strictly cut out the problem foods.
Know what’s the worst? When he was presented with a glass of Creme Soda and a pizza at a party last week with Moms from The New School and I visibly cringed at the sight I felt like The Tree Hugger Mom From Hell for admitting our kids don’t know carbonated drinks and I politely zipped my lips.
So sorry my boy.