I won’t pretend to be humble about it—my kids are on the path to becoming the next great investigative reporters. How do I know this? They have an insatiable urge to report every minor incident that occurs in our home. It’s as if they’re in a race to deliver breaking news, with each child clamoring to be the first to share their juicy tidbits. They shove each other aside and shout over one another, desperately wanting their voices to reach my ears first.
However, if they aspire to make headlines in journalism one day, they could definitely use some guidance—specifically, the wisdom that not every little thing is worth reporting. Yes, I want to know if there’s something genuinely important happening, like “Your daughter is using lipstick to draw on the wall!” or “One of them is hurt!” But the trivial complaints such as “He said my hair is too fluffy,” or “He put his foot in my cereal,” are enough to push me to the edge.
These unnecessary complaints are delivered in a tone that could rival a mosquito with a serious case of PMS. I can always tell when I’m about to hear something ridiculous, as it starts with a drawn-out “Mom-meeeeee?” that reaches a shrill pitch. Then comes the delightful barrage: “He said I look funny!” “He called me ‘silly’!” “He said my pajamas look like something a cartoon character would wear!”
I genuinely want my children to feel heard. I want them to approach me with significant matters (and the keyword here is significant) and trust that I won’t dismiss them. But how do I convey that they should share some things while keeping other trivial matters to themselves? It’s a perplexing challenge, akin to telling kids, “Never take candy from strangers—except on Halloween.” It’s tough for them to gauge what is truly “important,” especially when they think that someone saying their shirt is ugly is a cause for alarm.
For the most part, I choose to ignore the silly tattles. If I react to them, I inadvertently send the message that they’re worth my attention, which they definitely are not—unless they want to see me lose my mind entirely. Just the other day, one of my kids whined, “My brother called me a goofy head!”
I responded, “Are you a goofy head?”
He paused, considering the question. “No.”
“Then he’s mistaken, and it doesn’t matter. Now go play.”
My rule is simple: if no one is bleeding, physically hurting someone else, or engaging in risky behavior, then their complaints will either be ignored or brushed aside. Yes, I want to be informed if someone is attempting to leap off the furniture, but if the most significant issue is that “he said I’m shaped like a potato,” then they’re on their own.
I consider this a valuable lesson in conflict resolution. If you’re looking for more parenting tips, check out this blog post on conflict resolution strategies. And for those exploring family planning options, consider visiting reputable sites like Make a Mom for at-home insemination kits or the NHS for fantastic resources on pregnancy and insemination.
In summary, while my kids may be eager to share every little detail, I’m learning to discern between the significant and the trivial. This approach not only preserves my sanity but also teaches them lessons in communication and problem-solving.
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