“I want to hold it!” my almost-3-year-old daughter shouted as I carried the popcorn bowl to the couch for movie time. “No, I’m sitting in the middle,” my 8-year-old told her. “I get to hold it.” “He’s in the middle,
“I want to hold it!” my almost-3-year-old daughter shouted as I carried the popcorn bowl to the couch for movie time.
“No, I’m sitting in the middle,” my 8-year-old told her. “I get to hold it.”
“He’s in the middle, he gets to hold it,” I said to my daughter. “That’s the only way everyone can reach.”
Perhaps it was the perfume of fresh-popped corn that won her over, but surprisingly, she didn’t carry on the argument.
It had to be a first in my house, where arguments among my three children arise over everything from plastic bath toys to what color plate they want for dinner.
A typical squabble goes something like this:
“I want the red plate!”
“I want the red plate!”
“No, I called it first!”
“Then I want the blue plate!”
“No, I already said I wanted the blue plate! Mom!”
“You’re so dumb! You always get the blue plate! Mom!”
Most of these arguments end in hurt feelings, someone in time out for hitting, or me having taken away whatever is being fought over. At dinner time, I end the plate squabble by telling them they will eat off of whatever plate I set in front of them. Period.
To which I am almost always greeted by “It’s not fair!” or even tears when it’s the youngest.
Over a plate? Really?
Yup.
When I was younger and dreamed of starting a family with my soon-to-be husband, I repeatedly told him I wanted a house full of crazy kids. I wanted chaos and crayon on the wall and swinging in the backyard and singing at the dinner table.
The saying “Be careful what you wish for” definitely applies here. I got just what I hoped for and then some.
But I never anticipated the squabbling, which is amazing considering I grew up in a house with two older sisters and a younger brother.
Our house had four plastic Tupperware cups that were used for milk at dinner: one red, blue, yellow and a green. We argued EVERY night over who got which cup. No one ever wanted the yellow cup.
I still don’t know why.
As much as I dislike hearing and trying to referee my children’s fights, I also recognize this is part of the growing-up process — just as it was for me and my siblings.
Helping my kids resolve conflict, or making them do it themselves, will help them deal with real issues when they’re big, and right now.
When my youngest started snatching toys from other children her age at the baby sitter’s, I realized almost immediately that she had learned her “princess” attitude from the way her brothers treated her. She made a demand and they met it.
They handed over cookies and video games and stuffed animals galore, all in an effort to not make their baby sister cry.
Uh-uh.
I had to step in and remind them that she needed to ask politely for something she wants and that there were some things she wasn’t allowed to have, like scissors and glue.
Did it create conflict? Yup.
But she seems to be adjusting well. She’s squabbling with the best of them, and serving her timeouts like a big girl afterwards. There have been more good days than bad lately at the baby sitter’s — which gives me hope.
Of course, I’m still hoping for less chaos, less crayon on the walls and less singing at the dinner table.
• Mommy Talk is an online parenting blog written by Racine, Wis. Journal Times reporters Janine Anderson and Marci Laehr Tenuta.
