On Why I {Don't} Play With My Children {On-Demand}.
We just returned from our first ever and glorious vacation to my new favorite state {Maine}. Life there wasn't perfect, but there was the fresh newness of a place we had never been. There were still outbreaks between the children, one who threw up for two days (and whose vomit I slipped on while carrying the sick child, thus resulting in a oozing sore on my arm all week) and little women who had a hard time reigning their emotions when expectations were dashed. While there, we were all still "us", but generally happier, less encumbered, more congenial. We stayed in a little log cabin in the middle of the woods, on a large island. We had nothing there except for the bins of clothes I packed and a few fresh lobsters we fetched down the street (ok, and maybe some wine). I had my husband's continual help with the children, along with my stepson and his buddy's presence and throughout the week my desire grew that all highways be shut down indefinitely, preventing us from getting home and thus forcing a relocation and new way of life.
It was on Friday morning, the last day of vacation, when my son made yet another clumsy, brainless decision to fall down the stairs and majorly scrape up his arm (at least, that's how my compassionate heart viewed the whole ordeal that involved an attempt at flying and lots of loud crying) and then 20 minutes later when my middle child slammed the van door on all five of her digits at the end of her left arm...it was after those incidents that the unwelcome thought "real life stops at no state boundaries" occurred to me. Real life would seep right into Maine as it boldly does at our "regular" home (as the kids referred to it). The next day we left for a 13 hour trip home that feels like has still not ended, as the transition to summer living has been disjointed and demanding. I am hardly dealing with it graciously.
One thing I have been faced with is the CONSTANT requests for me to come and play. If I obliged every time, I would spend my entire day pretending to be a customer, refereeing games of Chutes and Ladders and jumping rope, which can be a hazardous to full-grown women without a properly fitting bra (or so I've heard, so I steer clear). Lest you think me completely heartless, I DO occasionally play with my children, and pretend to be having fun, but really, it's something I must force myself to do. I feel it is their job to play...either together OR by themselves. The only reason I do not struggle with guilt more than I do on this topic because of my own childhood. My mom (unknown to me) went through a series of miscarriages and a near-fatal ectopic pregnancy that kept me an only-child until the age of 8. In all those years of being my own (and only) playmate, I am hard pressed to remember many times that my mom actually PLAYED with me. I am sure she did, but I struggle to recall it. And you know what? I had the privilege of having one of the happiest childhood's one could have. There was nothing lacking... I knew I was loved, I knew I would be fed and taken care of. Yet it was up to me to find something to play. If I complained of boredom (which I know I did), she gave me work to do. It cured me quick.
This "I'm bored" hump is a big one to get over. There are plenty of cute and creative ways to help point out ways to combat boredom, but I'm not hear to list them for you {Pinterest is there for that!}. I am simply here to say this:
-If you are tired and struggling to embrace every moment of summer, you are not alone!!!
-If your children are complaining of being bored, that is good. Push through it and either give them work to do, an idea or just time to hone their imagination. This can be a long and tiresome process. Pour yourself a strong drink if that helps. Or bang your head on the wall. It hurts, yes, but it does distract from the whining sounds of the b-word being emitted.
-Playing with your children at every request does not guarantee a happy childhood or make you a better mom. If you like it, and you don't mind that they'll always ask for more: GO for it!!! It can't hurt them really. But if you struggle with feeling badly that you don't LOVE playing, that you don't do it all the time...I would encourage you to loosen your grip on that guilt. It's needless. Encouraging children to "find things to do" (ie: sharpen their imaginative and creative skills) will not hurt them either!
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Proof that attitudes know no state lines. |
It was on Friday morning, the last day of vacation, when my son made yet another clumsy, brainless decision to fall down the stairs and majorly scrape up his arm (at least, that's how my compassionate heart viewed the whole ordeal that involved an attempt at flying and lots of loud crying) and then 20 minutes later when my middle child slammed the van door on all five of her digits at the end of her left arm...it was after those incidents that the unwelcome thought "real life stops at no state boundaries" occurred to me. Real life would seep right into Maine as it boldly does at our "regular" home (as the kids referred to it). The next day we left for a 13 hour trip home that feels like has still not ended, as the transition to summer living has been disjointed and demanding. I am hardly dealing with it graciously.
One thing I have been faced with is the CONSTANT requests for me to come and play. If I obliged every time, I would spend my entire day pretending to be a customer, refereeing games of Chutes and Ladders and jumping rope, which can be a hazardous to full-grown women without a properly fitting bra (or so I've heard, so I steer clear). Lest you think me completely heartless, I DO occasionally play with my children, and pretend to be having fun, but really, it's something I must force myself to do. I feel it is their job to play...either together OR by themselves. The only reason I do not struggle with guilt more than I do on this topic because of my own childhood. My mom (unknown to me) went through a series of miscarriages and a near-fatal ectopic pregnancy that kept me an only-child until the age of 8. In all those years of being my own (and only) playmate, I am hard pressed to remember many times that my mom actually PLAYED with me. I am sure she did, but I struggle to recall it. And you know what? I had the privilege of having one of the happiest childhood's one could have. There was nothing lacking... I knew I was loved, I knew I would be fed and taken care of. Yet it was up to me to find something to play. If I complained of boredom (which I know I did), she gave me work to do. It cured me quick.
This "I'm bored" hump is a big one to get over. There are plenty of cute and creative ways to help point out ways to combat boredom, but I'm not hear to list them for you {Pinterest is there for that!}. I am simply here to say this:
-If you are tired and struggling to embrace every moment of summer, you are not alone!!!
-If your children are complaining of being bored, that is good. Push through it and either give them work to do, an idea or just time to hone their imagination. This can be a long and tiresome process. Pour yourself a strong drink if that helps. Or bang your head on the wall. It hurts, yes, but it does distract from the whining sounds of the b-word being emitted.
-Playing with your children at every request does not guarantee a happy childhood or make you a better mom. If you like it, and you don't mind that they'll always ask for more: GO for it!!! It can't hurt them really. But if you struggle with feeling badly that you don't LOVE playing, that you don't do it all the time...I would encourage you to loosen your grip on that guilt. It's needless. Encouraging children to "find things to do" (ie: sharpen their imaginative and creative skills) will not hurt them either!
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