As a dedicated mom, I can spot my kids’ cries from a mile away. It’s like I have a built-in radar system, capable of distinguishing between a minor whine and a full-blown emergency. I might have flunked algebra 2 and skipped calculus, but as a parent, I’ve mastered the art of interpreting the silences between the screams — effectively calculating when it’s time to intervene. And oh, how self-satisfied I feel as I sip my iced coffee on a park bench, thinking, “Thank goodness that wasn’t my kid.”
Except it kind of was.
“Mommyyyyy!” A scream pierces through the usual playground chaos, instantly making all the other moms perk up like meerkats on high alert. But while I glance over, I’m not really panicking. My ears are well-versed in identifying the nuances of my children’s cries. I may not have aced math, but as a mother, I can read the room like a pro.
However, my moment of smugness quickly dissipates when I see my son, Jake, clutching a Thomas the Tank Engine that absolutely does not belong to him.
“No! I’m not giving it back!” he yells, oblivious to the distress of the other child.
“But it’s mine!” the other boy wails, reaching out for his beloved toy.
“No. I want it!” Jake insists.
And in that moment, all my calmness evaporates. I want to scream at my son. Even amidst the chaos, I realize this is one of those cringe-worthy “teachable moments” where I should approach him calmly, kneel to his level, and have a gentle conversation.
A “perfect” mom would say, “Sweetheart, it seems you’re feeling frustrated.”
A “perfect” mom would say, “Jake, that train isn’t yours, and this little boy wants it back.”
A “perfect” mom would say, “What can we do instead of yelling?”
But instead, I find myself shouting, “Dude, that’s not your train! Give it back, now!”
Guess what? Now Jake is screaming too.
It’s been a long day — let’s be honest, a long three and a half years. I am mortified that my sweet little boy — the one who dances to Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” with me and shares his snacks with friends — is the cause of another child’s tears.
Meanwhile, the other kid’s mom has arrived, enveloping her sobbing child in a hug and glaring daggers at my son. I can’t blame her. I’ve been there. Just last year, I wanted to unleash my inner lioness when a little girl took away my son’s favorite toy, leaving him heartbroken. In that moment, I wanted to snatch the toy back and give that girl a piece of my mind.
And here’s the ugly truth: I’d rather be the lioness than the mother whose child is causing someone else pain.
So, what do I do? I can wrestle the train from my (surprisingly strong) three-year-old and yell, “Give me the train right now!” But then I’m that mom, the one everyone thinks can’t control her kid. Alternatively, I can force him to apologize, but let’s face it, he’s not truly sorry; he just wants to keep that darn train. Or, I could remind him of that time he felt sad when someone took his toy and hope it sparks a bit of empathy in him.
There it is — the “teachable moment” for both of us. Because karma, in the form of a three-year-old with a Thomas the Tank Engine, has shown me how it feels to witness my child acting out. I hope this experience will make me more understanding toward the next little troublemaker who crosses my child’s path.
For more parenting insights, check out this other blog post on home insemination.
To sum it up, parenting is full of highs and lows, and sometimes your little one is the source of chaos. But through these moments, we learn and grow together, hoping to foster empathy and understanding in our children.