The blogosphere is all abuzz about this post on this blog. It’s as if the universe is trying to speak to me sometimes. Last night at a rare dinner out alone with my husband, we discussed something along these lines. Lately, we’ve been spending a lot of time trying to figure out why our oldest son behaves the way he does. He wakes up way too early in the morning and whines way too much. Like a lot. Like for hours straight. We were discussing two instances and trying to analyze why he was behaving the way he was.
One was Sunday afternoon. Max had the stomach bug the previous Thursday, then I got it that night into Friday, then my husband had it Saturday night into Sunday. Needless to say we were all tired, cranky and not feeling well. In my mind, I was going to put the boys on the couch in front of the TV full of Christmas Specials for the afternoon. WRONG! They wanted to play, they wanted to eat lunch (the nerve!), they wanted their mother to be present. But I wasn’t, so they cried and whined.
The second circumstance was yesterday morning. Max woke up too early crying. Since he hadn’t eaten dinner the night before, he wanted a glass of milk immediately, and I stubbornly was making him wait until a decent hour; you know, 6:00 a.m. So, he continued to cry and whine and thrash about. So much so that I left him in bed with my husband, and went downstairs so I could ignore him.
While talking about it at dinner, my husband said, “I just don’t understand what’s wrong with him. I don’t know why he has to act like that.” My response was, “It’s my fault. He acts like that because I do.” So the answer is no, I wouldn’t want to be my child, and yes it is my fault. I would want a mom that is present, that plays and laughs more and doesn’t worry so much if the house is tidy or the laundry is folded. I would want a mom who wasn’t tired all of the time and spent less time worrying. I would just want to feel loved and heard and understood.
I don’t know who you are Abraham Piper, but point taken. Well done.