Soccer and Sideline Parents

It was down to the third quarter of a close game; the score was 0-1. The boys were tired from giving it their all and playing in the hot afternoon sun. Half time was almost over and it was time for a pep talk. Coach huddled the team up and did his best to convince them to dig deep. After all, they were only one point behind the league’s fiercest opponent, and giving up now would mean giving them victory. As coach rattled off their field assignments, he sent the boys out to claim their territory, which they all did with unwavering determination. Except one kid. He was pouting because he didn’t want to play in the position that coach had assigned to him.

He moped onto the field and just before the whistle blew to start the quarter he broke down crying. Now, I understand that he REALLY wanted to play a different position, but part of playing on a team means you play your best, no matter where the coach puts you. This kid defiantly crossed his arms and hung his head in disappointment, tears streaming, as coach pulled him off the field and hustled in a replacement.

The child’s frustration turned into anger as he sat down in protest at the sideline. Coach gave his best “I understand you don’t want to play that position, but that’s where the team needs you” speech but it fell on deaf ears. Instead, he got an earful in return from an eight year old about how much he hates that position, hates soccer and isn’t having fun!

Now, if that were my kid, I wouldn’t have hesitated to pull him aside, calm him down and make him apologize to his coach. After all, what good is he to the team if he refuses to listen to the coach? It was unquestionably a teachable moment.

So I was shocked to see his mom crouch down be side him, comfort him, then proceed to angrily question the coach, “Why isn’t he playing?!”. Coach tried to calmly and patiently (while also trying to coach a game) explain to her that her son had refused to play in the position he was given. Now, let me just say, that I understand as a mother the intense desire to protect your child; to ensure their happiness and rescue them from their frustrations. I GET THAT. But this was one of those important character-building opportunities to teach her son- if not by example- how to deal with life’s disappointments.

Instead of turning to her son and helping him see the value of being part of a team and the importance of listening to the coach, the mom stood up and raised her voice to the coach, and demanding an answer, shouted, “Why can’t he just play in the position he wants to play in?!”. Like son, like mother. Really? That’s what you want to teach your child? Throw a tantrum and get your way. Who cares about the team or the authority of a coach? You’re going to prevent the coach from coaching because you think your son is the only thing that matters right now? What about the other seven kids on the field- including mine- who are tired and playing their hearts out. Take a seat, lady, this is not the time nor the place.

At first I was slightly horrified and really irritated by this situation (can you tell?). After all, the coach is a volunteer, is great with the kids and has done a phenomenal job. (I later made it a point of telling him that). I find it really unfortunate that this woman was teaching her son that when you don’t get your way, throwing a tantrum and disrespecting authority is perfectly acceptable. And then it occurred to me...outside of soccer, SHE is this child’s authority. So, while she may not have recognized it in this soccer moment, I’m sure the day will come (probably after years of therapy) when she realizes that she is, in effect, teaching her son to defy HER. And, suddenly, I found peace with it all.

You Know My Preschoolers Have Older Siblings Because...

My three year old is telling his playground friends “you’re not making good decisions!”

My toddlers know all the characters in Star Wars and Pokemon

My sweet babies sing songs about burping, farting and pooping

My three year old’s vocabulary includes the phrases “that’s stupid”, “I hate that” and “oh, whatever”...used completely out of context

My daughter is trying to shoot the boys and gets mad when they don’t play dead

They insist on wearing backpacks (full of toys) to school like the big kids

They already complain about homework they don’t have

“Ewwww! That’s disgusting (which they can’t really pronounce)!”

And families without older siblings steer clear because of it.  Can't say I blame them.

Parenting the Child that is ME

It’s taken me years to begin to understand how it’s even possible for two people, namely a parent and child, to be so alike in so many ways and there be so much conflict because of it. It defies logic, really.

My oldest was born an old soul. He didn’t even look like a baby when he was an infant, he looked like an old man. He has always been serious, pensive, quiet, an enforcer of rules (notice I don’t say “follower” of rules...), cautious, intense and wise. He’s a very sweet kid, (usually) very good with his younger siblings and is unstoppable (literally) when he puts his mind to something. He is a child any mom would be proud to call hers. But those are his good qualities.

He’s also very stubborn, strong-willed, literal, argumentative, quick tempered and a bit mischieveious. He’s my button pusher. Therein lies the answer to my question. We are a lot alike in many good ways, but MORE alike in the less desirable ways. And whether we mean to or not, and we react to situations in the EXACT. SAME. WAY.

And, just like we as parents swear that we won’t be like our parents, we try in earnest to keep our kids from embodying the things we don’t like about ourselves. Given my son’s propensity to act and talk in much the same (negative) ways, it starts to make sense that my conflicted frustration grows as emotions escalate. And there you have it, it is because we are alike in the wrong ways that our similarities become our differences. Now I have to figure out how to be less like myself, more like the me I want to be and embrace the child that is.

Now, what do I do about the second and third children who have the same problem? I guess the good news is that neither of them is like me.

Preschool 3.0

This is our third (and fourth) go around with preschool and, I have to say, it is a much different experience this time around. It’s not that the school has changed...it’s that I have.

Preschool 1.0 was our bubble. That’s were my son met his friends, and I did too. We had play dates and birthday parties, mom get togethers and frequent coffee visits. I knew every mom’s name and considered all of them friends. By the time my second child started preschool, I had two in preschool (going opposite days), and became even more entrenched in the environment. We would arrive early so the kids could greet their friends, stay late so we could linger on the playground, and I would happily volunteer when needed. I formed a tight knit group of friends with whom I could relate because we had a lot of the same challenges, and for most of us, were experiencing preschool for the first time with our oldest children.

So what’s changed? My world. Our bubble has expanded far beyond those iron preschool gates, and I no longer have the luxury of leisurely coming and going and sacrificing my free time. My time without kids is precious and I am now one of those moms who is arriving just in the nick of time in the morning and is quick to leave after pick up.

It’s not just my schedule that’s changed...looking around the school yard I notice that more moms than not have a baby in their arms and are bonding over sharing the same challenges with similarly aged children like I once did. I am not one of them. I have become the “mom with older kids”. You can tell us because we don’t bring our kids to school in their cutest, cleanest outfit (and mine, who dress themselves, are usually completely mismatched). We don’t rush to our child who may have fallen or stay longer in the classroom because our child is anxious we are leaving. We aren’t packing homemade, organic snacks for our kids and we don’t cringe when we see the paint set out for the kids. It’s school. It’s messy. That’s how they learn. And at least it’s not at my house. I don’t know many of the moms’ names, and the ones I do know I know from bonding over preschool 2.0.

So, while preschool 3.0 has been a different experience, it’s still a meaningful one for me. It’s a valuable reminder of how much I’ve grown, how much more confidence I have now and how much of a better mother I’ve become because of it. And this time around I can focus more on what the experience means to my children, not just me, which makes it more fun for everyone.

Now...where are the finger paints???

Photo: Salvatore Vuono

Having an Identity Crisis

I had one several years ago when I first decided to stay home. I found it difficult to transition from my official, hard-earned work title to the very unglamorous, generic title of “mom”. I struggled with how to fill in forms when they asked for my occupation...”mom” seemed too vague and since it was not a paid position, didn’t seem relevant. “Wife” implied no kids, which pretty much implies no work, which was no where near accurate. “Volunteer” seemed too contradictory, since that would imply that I had the freedom to come and go as I pleased, pick and choose which responsibilities I took on and make my own decisions about how and when to help others. No... “servant” might be a better description...but maybe a bit too harsh. And “President” and “CEO” of our household seemed a bit of a stretch. Then there are all the smaller jobs that I fulfill, like tutor, cook, nurse, chauffer, coach, teacher, nanny, housekeeper (the list goes on...), but that brings me back to the fact that none of these are paid positions. So, who am I?

I finally made peace with the title of “at-home mom”. Having been a working mom, I felt that somehow having an occupation outside of “mom” precluded me from being “mom” on these silly forms. At least “at-home mom” makes it clear that I work hard to take care of my kids, family and home. And I REFUSE to fill in “none” for my occupation.

So, here I am, several years later, and I’m facing the same identity crisis. Only this time, I’m going back to work (kind of). I’ve started taking on some part time work, but I’m left questioning how this changes my “occupation”. Now I’m a “working at-home mom”...or do I list my part time occupation as my primary occupation and not mention being at home with kids? Or, does part time work not even count as a true occupation, and should I should omit it completely? But it’s work that I do- paid work- and shouldn’t that count for something?

I’ve now settled on the official title of “part time working at home mom”. It’s kind of long, but it says it all...the only question left to answer now, is do I list my family or my paid job as my employer?

Top 10 Questions/Comments I Get As A Mother of Twins...And My Responses

1. Are they twins?
Why, yes. Yes, they are. (Then people respond, “I thought so...but they’re so big”. Apparently twins grow just like real babies.)
2. Oh, you finally got your girl!
Yes, but with 3 older brothers, she hasn’t figured out she’s a girl yet.
3. I don’t know how you do it.
I try not to think about it.
4. Are they identical?
Ummm, no. This one’s a boy and this one’s a girl.
5. Did you use fertility?
No. (thought: but if I had I’m not sure I would share the details of my personal reproduction with a perfect stranger)
6. Do you have twins in your family?
I do now.
7. How much did they weigh when they were born?
He was 6 lbs, she was 5.11. (Which usually prompts the response, “Wow, that’s a lot of baby”. My translation: “Wow, you must have been HUGE...” Yep, I was pretty much bursting with babies).
8. Do they have their own language?
Yes, English
9. Oh, a boy and a girl, you’re done now, right?
I find this question a little presumptive- see #5- and you should see their face when I answer, “Actually I have four. But, yes, we are done.”
10. Were they full term?
Luckily, yes (or close enough, just one day shy). At which point I am guaranteed to hear a story about someone they know who had twins...

But it goes with the territory. And the best part is that when you meet someone else with twins you have an instant friend with whom to share stories, co-miserate and exchange admiration. Having twins isn’t easy, but I feel privileged to be among some of the strongest women I know.

Life in Two Minute Increments

Having twins has its perks. But it also has its drawbacks. Apparently today is I-want-what-you-have day, as it has been filled with a series of tug-of-wars over certain toys. All. Day. Long. My solution? The timer, set for two minutes and mandated sharing. Why two minutes? Because that’s about the maximum amount of time I can tolerate the crying and screaming that ensues when the desire to play with a toy overwhelms their senses. That, and it’s just enough time for a three year old’s attention span to wear off.

And when the timer doesn’t work, time out does. Which also lasts about two minutes. And since most of our day seems to be comprised of timers and time outs, it’s being lived in increments of two minutes at a time. And it keeps me from losing it...I can keep my cool through two minutes much easier than I can get through two hours. Today is one of those days where trying to teach my kids patience and perspective reminds me to do the same.

I don’t know what’s worse...the whirlwind last minute frenzy of trying to pack for a family camping trip, complete eight loads of laundry and squeeze it into duffel bags, dig out the buried supplies and equipment and make multiple trips to the store- with kids- for the things we keep forgetting...OR...actually having to go camping with all four kids. The second one is optional, the first one is not.

Don’t get me wrong, I actually enjoy camping. But camping with kids isn’t my idea of fun. “In my world”, as my kids put it, camping includes lots of recreation, no schedules, resting in a lounge chair and reading a book or taking a hike when and where ever I want. Camping with kids is without question a LOT of work. There is lots of recreation...to keep the kids busy (thereby wearing out the adults), no schedules (which translates into staying up way too late, waking up with sunlight and foregoing any naps), and resting with four kids really never happens, no matter where we are. Add to that not getting a good night’s sleep and, well, there you have it. (Besides, with half my kids gone, staying at home is as close to a vacation as I get!)

So, I’ll put up with the first (non)option, if I don’t have to endure the second. Maybe when the days of potty training are far behind us and the older kids aren’t constantly fighting it will be tolerable (and maybe even fun). In the mean time, I will brace myself for the aftermath that is camping...the whirlwind UNpacking from a camping trip, eight loads of dirty laundry to clean and put away and refilling the backpacks with school books and binders. But at least I’ll get a good night’s sleep.

The Quiet One

I’m always amazed to see a sibling sitting perfectly content and seemingly unaware of their brother or sister right next to them who is SCREAMING at the top of their lungs. Here is one thing I’ve learned about parenting: it’s usually the Quiet One’s fault. The Crying One is usually quick to point that out, but the Quiet One also knows I didn’t see it. So what does the Quiet One do? Deny it, of course!

So now that it’s become a game of Quiet-said-versus-Crying-said, the original offense becomes less and less relevant until there is a full-scale meltdown about whom I believe. Suddenly, the Quiet One has masterfully manipulated the situation into MY fault for not trusting the Quiet One’s version of the truth. Worried I am going to break Quiet One’s ego, fill Quiet One with self-loathing and basically screw Quiet One up for life, I hesitate...for a moment. I may not have seen it, but this is a perfect example of how actions speak louder than words. And Quiet One’s actions (or lack thereof) are screaming GUILTY!

So Quiet One has now turned unsuspecting mother into Yelling One at Quiet One, while trying to comfort Crying One. And, as I ponder why Quiet One is lying to me, I reminisce about the myriad of lies I told as a child- not because I was a bad kid, but simply because I didn’t want to get in trouble. So I’m compelled to teach Quiet One yet another lesson on the importance of being honest with consequences for lying...right after Yelling One emerges with her sanity after deep breathing exercises in the garage.

WHY BEING A MOM MAKES ME A BETTER PERSON

~If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing
~You have no one else to blame for your bad decisions; if you don't like the outcome, make a different one
~What did we learn from this and what are we going to differently next time?
~Hurting people solves nothing
~You're not allowed to call him names but you can tell him how you feel
~Practice makes perfect
~We're all good at different things...that's what makes us special (in other words, no one is good at everything)
~It only hurts for a little while and then it feels better
~If you're not nice to him then he's not going to be nice to you (or, "treat others the way you want to be treated")
~You don't get things because you want them, you get them because you earn them
~If we did this all the time, then it wouldn't be special
~It doesn't matter how it started, what matters is how it ends
~You will get in A LOT more trouble if you don't tell the truth, then you will if you do tell the truth
~Life's not always fair

Let's face it, these lessons take a lifetime to learn (they are just as applicable to the workplace as they are to the playground).  And my kids are more than happy to hold me accountable when I'm not putting these things into practice.  At least I know they are listening...and that being a parent is making me a better person.