I’m scared of my kids.
I know I’m not the only one feeling that way; in fact, this may take the cake as the most unoriginal thought I’ve had about motherhood. But however universal, the fact remains: Parenting is hard for many reasons, and one of the big ones is that we’re terrified of making our kids mad/sad/upset/scared. We’re also scared of not successfully making those feelings GO AWAY when they come up.
It starts when they’re babies. I was scared I wasn’t feeding my first kid enough breast milk during his first few weeks. Whenever he cried, I’d worry it was because he was hungry. I was scared my breasts weren’t producing enough milk to satiate him and keep him growing. That’s part of the reason breastfeeding was so fraught for me, and part of the reason I only breastfed my second baby for a couple weeks before switching to formula. With formula, I was able to mostly eliminate the feeling that my baby was crying/unhappy because she didn’t have enough milk.
But the “scared of my kids” thing really intensified when they turned from babies into little toddlers.
At around 16 months, they both started displaying those toddler hallmarks of screaming and crying when they didn’t get their way, throwing themselves on the floor when we took away the glue or whatever it was they weren’t supposed to play with, scratching us when we took removed the marker or whatever it was they shouldn’t be eating from their mouths.
Somewhat unconsciously, I started making little decisions to choose my battles. Of course I’d take away the glue and the markers and the choking hazards. I set and enforced boundaries when it was for their safety and/or health, like “no walking in the middle of the street” and “no eating batteries” and “no playing with the Tylenol bottle” and, of course, “no biting other kids.”
But I let them do a lot of other things they probably shouldn’t have been doing. When my son was about 18 months old, for instance, he started opening the mini refrigerator, removing all the bottles and cans, lining them up on the floor and then putting them all back. The refrigerator stayed open the whole time because if I closed it he would scream. If he did it while my parents or someone else was over, I’d get the side eye: You’re letting him play in the refrigerator? His other favorite thing was pushing the dining table chairs around the hardwood floors, lining them up to make a ‘train’ and scratching the floors in the process. I never put a stop to that, either, because … well, because it wasn’t posing any danger to him and I knew if I put a stop to it I’d be in for a 20-minute tantrum.
Now my daughter is 18 months old and following in his footsteps. I’m not sure if she ever even saw him play in the refrigerator or rearrange the dining chairs, but she does it, too. She’s also obsessed with Gatorade bottles and constantly hands them to me, saying “open!” And I do. And then she pours Gatorade all over the floor, and I let it happen and clean it up. Maybe all toddlers do if their parents are wimps and let them. Those are among the things I let her do that I probably shouldn’t because I don’t want to listen to her scream or cry. (Also because she really really enjoys it and who am I to discourage her hobbies of Gatorade-pouring and fridge-opening.)
Both my kids love climbing down from their seats during dinner and playing under the table, roaring and growling and pretending to be dinosaurs or lions or whichever animal my bigger kid is into that week. My husband and I will sort of ignore it and keep eating because 1) we’re hungry, and 2) we don’t feel like making them sit in their chairs and getting into a power struggle. I even let them do the dinosaur/lion under-table roar thing when we’re at their grandparents’ house while their cousin is sitting in her chair eating chicken and broccoli like a little angel.
So my house is kind of chaotic.
My house is kind of chaotic and my kids are kind of chaotic. They play with things they probably shouldn’t and watch a bit too much TV and eat a few too many rice krispy treats because I’m scared of them. I don’t want them to yell or scream or cry.
I think it’s OK to choose your battles, but I also know I need to work on enforcing boundaries. I know that will become more important as they get older and we get into the whole “big kids, big problems” era.
So I’ll tell myself I’m saving up my battles for the times it will really matter, and choosing not to fight them on playing in the mini fridge and scratching our old floors.