There have been several instances of late that confirm I’m an enabler.
Without question, and I know Pam would agree, I tend to baby the kids more than her. In my defense, and this may sound strange because it takes more effort on my part, the easier track to take at times is to just do mundane things for my kids rather than coerce them to do it for themselves. Somethings are just not worth the inevitable fight when I put my foot down. Of course, that’s an unacceptable stance for a parent and bad for all of us.
Some examples of late to prove I need to change my ways.
•Beckett, 9, likes to play with his iPad in the morning before school. Our rule is he must be ready to walk out the door before he can use it. He doesn’t like it, but it’s a reasonable plan and works well for us in our pre-school routine.
One morning this week he impressed me. He had set his Echo for 6:45 in the morning on his own and came flying down the steps. As soon as I saw him, I told him how great it was to see him dressed and that, because of his independence, I would do him a favor and grab his shoes and socks from his room that he forgot. After a few minutes, I found him standing in the bathroom holding his tooth brush. When I asked what gives, he said he was waiting for me to brush his hair while he brushed his teeth so he could have more time on his iPad.
I’m still confused by that logic. Clearly, his independent will has limits.
•Over the last few months, a goal has been for Carson, 8, to shower by himself without our help and causing a mess. He knows that’s what his big brother does and seems to want to do the same.
One night recently Carson was in the shower and I could see it looked like he was taking care of business. However, after a few minutes, I started to wonder when I saw him writing words on the glass door.
I opened the door to find him standing under the water extending his shampoo bottle toward me. He, too, was waiting for me to do something. In his case, he wanted me to wash his hair. When I asked him what was going on, he hunched his shoulders like he didn’t know how to do it. It was more like he was unwilling. For the 624th time, I showed him.
•For some reason, Beckett has become a picky eater.
Because he’s so thin and active, I’m bad at caving in to this penchant. In fact, it’s more the case I don’t push him to try new things and make him meals I know he likes.
On rare occasions, I have put my foot down and refused to cater to this pickiness. There was a night recently when I made him chicken tenders and peas for dinner. He ate all the peas first. I assumed he wanted to get the vegetables out of the way. That’s how I was as a kid. I learned after a few minutes it was because the chicken looked different. It was grilled tenders instead of fried.
He got me all worked up because he wouldn’t even try it. He asked if he could have something else instead. I refused.
As the night went by, I was starting to cave, especially after seeing how skinny he was stepping out of the shower. I was having second thoughts on my line in the sand when he said he was hungry and hadn’t had enough for dinner.
I stood my ground and told him I would give him some more peas and reheat his chicken, which he did eventually eat. This was one instance when my mind beat out my heart, which was telling me to just give him what he wanted so wouldn’t go hungry.
It was a learning moment for both of us.
•With Carson and some of the unique issues we face as a family with him, we pick our battles. There are times when I feel it’s mental warfare wading through the different parenting choices that arise daily.
What I do for Carson I would refuse to do for Beckett. While it’s a wonderful lesson in tolerance for Beckett, I understand the times when he’s a little short on patience and throws the “unfair” flag. Beckett has come a long way on this front but it’s clear he has some resentment toward his little brother. That hurts his parents and is a constant distraction for us.
For example, on the walk out the door on Tuesday morning, Carson slipped on the steps and fortunately fell directly on his rear end. It could have been so much worse.
Beckett chimed in immediately with some rude comments about how this was going to cause him to be late for school and how Carson should not be so clumsy.
It was cold hearted, which is not his nature. Rather than having a big blow up minutes before school, I gave him a look that upset him. He then began referencing the time when Carson tried to push him down the steps five years ago and how I didn’t punish him.
I didn’t engage but what he said stuck with me all day. Whether that’s enabling or something altogether different, it did bring to the surface that horrible feeling of parental guilt.
When we caught up later, I wanted to talk about it. However, it was as if the whole thing never happened as he could barely remember what I was talking about.
I’m not sure if that flightiness is a good thing or not but at that moment I was fine to move on after I had said my peace.
