Friday, October 25, 2013

Giving Silly a Break



I adore this little boy of mine. He falls asleep in crazy positions. He is hilarious and super smart. The more you talk to him, the more you want to listen to him. I went to his parent-teacher conference yesterday and she made it pretty clear that on top of being smart, he is also a great listener and a good friend and helper; she stopped short of calling him her absolute favorite, but just barely. She told me he almost made her cry one day because the girl across from him struggles sometimes, and he noticed she was having a hard time so he got up, went around to her desk, explained everything again and helped her get her work done. He saw someone in need and took care of it, all on his own. Makes this mom's heart melt! On the way out of the meeting I mentioned that Silly had a soccer game that night; she told him to score a goal for her, so you know what, he did! He was working hard that whole game, determined to score for her.



On the other hand, he is no 24/7 angel. He is a 7 year old boy, after all, who gets a little crazy sometimes (occasionally injuring his brother in the process) and has selective hearing. He sometimes blows little things out of proportion and then stays all bent out of shape about it for a good while (doesn't get that from me...). It is not unusual to have to ask/tell/remind him to do something a dozen or more times. It sometimes feels like his whole brain gets erased in his sleep every night because he wakes up acting like he has no idea what the usual routine is. Having to repeat myself is a major pet peeve of mine (which is a bit of a problem when I'm a mumbler, and also mother to 3 children! You'd think I'd be over it by now) so I get pretty fed up over having to say the same things over and over every single day. But I worry about fulfilling the middle child stereotype. Cakes suddenly got responsible last year, so we never yell or get mad at her for anything (except the fact that going into her 4th year of piano lessons she still refuses to learn the names of the lines and spaces on the treble and bass clef, for the sole purpose of driving her music major mother insane). Bubba is the baby, so I baby him, and I am strangely not at all bothered about fulfilling that stereotype, but he is still little so there are things he needs help with a can't do on his own. We worry that Silly feels picked on and a little less loved. He sees Cakes with a few more privileges because she's older, and Bubba who gets to skate by because he's younger. I'm pretty sure he feels like he gets the short end of the stick, and sometimes it's true.*



I've been pondering and praying over what to do with this boy; the right way to talk to him so he'll listen and obey or simply remember that he's supposed to do the same things every single day without so many reminders so I can be a nice mom instead of a nagging mom. One day last week I walked through the front hall and he'd thrown his backpack and lunch box in the middle of the floor, like he does pretty much every day, and every day I repeatedly tell him to pick them up and put them away. I was literally opening my mouth to call his name when the words, "Just help him" came into my mind. So I did. And I thought about what a great kid he is. And how he does such an extremely excellent job at school and church of listening, and following directions and being a great helper. And I know that takes an incredible amount of self control for a little kid, especially a boy. I should be more appreciative of that and cut the kid a little slack. Is it really the worst thing in the world if I put his backpack away for him? Or pick up the dirty clothes all over his floor? Make his bed? Turn off his lamp? I could have much bigger problems, but I don't, so why make such a big deal over these little things?

I went to Target last night to buy him some new socks. I mentioned to the cashier that my son needed new socks because he keeps going outside with his socks on, but no shoes, and completely ruining his socks. I told her I threatened to make him buy his own socks. She laughed and said, "Gotta love 'em!"

I said, "Yep, I do. That's why I haven't made him pay for them yet."

*Do you think I used enough parentheses?

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