I now know why parents seem to get more lenient with age.
I used to assume that it had something to do with wisdom and perspective. Much like a fruit, to ripen as a parent would bring you to the proper condition: the sweetness being your ability to discern the important battles and lessons with only a margin of the pain, frustration and heartache that you would experience before you matured.
I have recently changed my theory.
Feeling cooped up and a little cabin-fevered, the children and I took a little trip to a play center a couple towns away. This was apparently the same decision 20 other moms made that morning because the place was packed.
I would like to blame what occurred later on the fact that spending most of the week pent up with me while it rained, and rained and rained retarded my children’s ability to cope with the onslaught of activity.
I cannot, however, because unfortunately, the meltdown was due entirely to me.
Here’s the thing: in my euphoria to be out of the house, I overlooked a fundamental rule of child maintenance—caloric intake. Although we had an ample breakfast, we missed snack time in an effort to make the most of our time at the play center. So, when we finally left to go buy lunch, my children were out of gas, so to speak. But not out of initiative, my son in particular.
Usually cheery even when he is misbehaving, my son’s disposition and behavior take a nosedive when his blood sugar is low. As soon as we left the center, I started asking them where they wanted to stop for lunch. Usually on-board with the executive decisions of his sister, he just starts yelling, “NO FRIES! NO FRIES!” Of course, this being exactly what my daughter wants for her special lunch treat, a yelling match ensues.
As we head into the establishment, I already have a headache.
Waiting in line, with two toddlers and no stroller was fun, but the real excitement happened once my attention was diverted to the cashier. My son started to protest for whatever reason and my daughter, in a moment of empathy, went to touch his shoulder. He jerked it out of her reach and yelled, “NO HIT!”
In a matter of moments, this turned into an angry brawl, with my son screeching and swinging while my daughter swatted his hands away while protesting, “I’m NOT HITTING YOU!”
Like a true scientist, I pondered the results of my play vs. nourishment experiment in the few precious moments of silence while my children were stuffing their faces full of food and altered my theory.
Ripening or softening as a parent has nothing to do with perspective. What happens to a peach when you hit it repeatedly with a stone? Exactly.
Raina Dezall has a pit reinforced with galvanized steel. You can contact her at mother_load@hotmail.com.