Least Favorite Parenting Series - All Three Talking At the Same Time
It always happens at dinner. But it could happen anytime. Even in the middle of the night. You're going along with your day and then BAM. All three, all at the same time, and all wanting something different. If it wasn't so chaotic I would think they composed it.
Tenor - "I want milk" - Seth
Contra-tenor - "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, it's dessert night." - Sean
Soprano - "Old McDonald had a farm. On that farm was dessert night!" - Elena
Sean has started the chorus: "Dessert night! Dessert night! Dessert night!" Yet, as if to prove the point, they all want different desserts. Meanwhile I've forgotten about the milk and it seems like the Craigs are the ones who have a farm at the moment.
What's happening in my brain when this goes on? What would an MRI show? What about if all my vitals were being monitored? Does my heart rate increase? What about my blood pressure? Is there a predictable physiological moment when I'm more likely to lose my head? I like to think I can handle two requests at once. Yet I'm certain three is a guarantee for daddy overload.
When I'm healthy - "Daddy can do one thing at a time. I'll help you when I can (gently places hand on Sean). What was that Elena?"
Most of the time - "BAHHH. Wait. Seth, not now. Elena, give me a moment. (audible SIGH). SEAN? NO, it's not dessert night tonight, please eat the food on your plate. ARGHH."
In the moment I want the requests to at least slow down, if not stop all together. Yet, when I get some space, I'm grateful that my kids come to me with requests. They come to Emily and I with needs because they know we can meet their needs. They're often persistent, bold, and persistent. I want it that way.
I long to disciple little humans who have clarity about their needs. I want them to learn to ask for these needs in appropriate ways to the right people. If they can't learn this at home, in our overflowing one bedroom apartment, where will they learn?
The treasure in the three part chorus of needs is the gift of limits. Despite my best efforts, I'll never be able to meet three needs at once. Sometimes I don't even meet one need at once. And that's okay. It's okay for my kids to wait a little while to get that toy down. It's okay for me to tackle things one at a time.
My anxiety in these spaces is a cover up for fear. I'm afraid of what will happen if I cannot meet the needs immediately. Will food be thrown? Perhaps some punches? It's almost never a matter of real physical danger. What if they learn to wait? What if they learn to accept things that don't happen in their desired timeline? What if their contentment grows because of the natural limits in a family of 5?
What if I learned those things: patience, contentment, and acceptance? More-so, what if I practiced these same virtues as the three part need chorus came my way?
Once again, moments that raise my anxiety have treasure underneath the surface. Fortunately for me, my children will give me plenty more opportunities to excavate it.