We have become a cliché: We can’t keep straight which child we’re addressing. One night I shouted for Alex for five minutes, telling him to get in the tub, before Alex said quietly from the depths of the fiberglass and water, “Mommy, I’m in the tub,” and I realized all this time, I’d been calling the wrong son.
And last night at dinner, I nailed Christian at it, too: “Nickel-juli-alex!” he roared. “Stop tormenting your sister!”
It’s always nice to know you’re not alone. We’ve taken all manner of flak about how laid-back we are about head bumps and boo boos. I point people to Julianna’s medical history in order to explain that we are never, never going to freak out about the normal bumps, bruises and idiosyncrasies of childhood. When a child comes wailing and overreacting, I give boo-boo kisses and send them on their way. Christian says, “Are you bleeding?”
I thought we were the only ones who said this, but last night at DQ, a little girl flew by me and launched herself into her daddy’s arms, and that was the first thing out of his mouth, too.
I’ll try to give you something with more depth tomorrow, I promise. Maybe I need to make a new policy that when Christian is on vacation, I go on “vacation” too.
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Completely know what you mean about the kids’ names. Most of the time, our girls’ names are Ka-Sarah and Sa-Katherine. We are also fairly glib about owies. My usual question is, “Do you need to go to the hospital?” The nine-year-old is pretty tired of that one.
Being laid back about bumps and the such is not a bad thing at all! We have always been that way with Brett. Encouraging him to “walk it off” after checking calmly and discreetly that nothing was broken. I have seen too many parents (some of my siblings) that as soon as the kid falls they rush over and gush over them which then leads to their child crying every time they fall.
Funny story: One day we were at the park with my siblings and my at the time 3 year old nephew who cried at every stumble, trip, noise, or anything out of the ordinary, was running around and playing. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him trip and fall on the sidewalk. He started to cry then he looked around and saw that nobody was watching him and he popped up, brushed himself off and went on his way! Cracked me up after all the fuss his parents always made and he was just fine!
I was always in trouble growing up, even though I was a “goody two shoes”. Being the eldest of 4 children born within 4 years held it’s special pride of place…. even when there was discipline to be doled out. No matter which one of my siblings was the target of my either of my parents’ wrath, (usually my mother) I was always the first name we’d hear- it would usually go something like Kath-Mike-Ter-RICHARD! By the time she landed on the actual desired name, that one was always loudest. It sort of gave me a complex and I would be startled whenever I heard someone call my name- good or bad!!! However on those rare occasions when I WAS the guilty party, it made me feel good to know she was so used to skipping my name she’d get through all four (so they’d experience how I felt for a change) and she’d have to go back to the beginning again to get to me! On those days, I knew I’d better run! But as an adult, I just look back and laugh. So I don’t think you’ll be scarring any of your children in the process, Kathleen! As a teacher, recess duty on the playground taught me a TON with kids coming up every 2 minutes to tattle tale or cry about some innocuous injury. I learned the three filters that I eventually used on my own children: 1. If it’s not on fire 2. If nobody is bleeding or unconscious 3. if an animal wasn’t involved –then it’s not an emergency. Otherwise, just like you, lots of hugs and booboo kisses, maybe a popsicle and “off you go” with a smile, of course. But now I’m reminded of the time when I was about 9 and my mother and I were in the kitchen; my brother came running in from the woods hollering “Mom! Mom!” all the way. She rolled her eyes and muttered something like “what now” before he got to the house, and the next thing we heard was ” You should have SEEN him! He looked just like SUPERMAN! ” 30 minutes later we were all piled into the station wagon heading to the emergency room because apparently my youngest brother thought he could fly. Ah..those were the days. 🙂
That is HILARIOUS! In retrospect, that is…probably not so much at the time! LOL
I usually ask my kids if they need me to cut off whatwver appendage it is they believe has been incurably wounded. And several occasions, Lelsey (my wife) has reprimanded me for telling our four year old to “man up”.
Why does this not surprise me? LOL
Whenever I ran into an inanimate object or fell, my father would say something like, “You hurt the poor floor/wall/door/whatever-it-was…. I hope it didn’t break anything.”
I guess it was meant to make me laugh ~ floors can get broken bones? Conjuring images of the wall wearing a giant bandaid ~ but his nonchalant way of ignoring my pain always made me angry. LOL
Of couse, now I’m guilty of saying the same thing to my kids. “Did you hurt the table? Tell it you’re sorry.” They don’t appreciate it either. 😛
That’s our response as well. 🙂