It is 1983. I am six years old, and like every other girl in America, all I want out of life is a Cabbage Patch Doll. I want her round head, adorable dimples, and signatured butt to be mine all mine. And like every other suburban parent, my folks make it happen for either my birthday or Christmas that year. Hallelujah! My kid life is complete! Her name is Dorena Monica. Dor-eeeee-na, how beautiful to my six-year-old ears! I could not have chosen a more lovely name if I’d tried.
But my brothers, they had a great idea for a better name.
“Doofus”.
That’s right, the joy of parenting Dorena Monica was pretty much instantly dulled for me by my brothers calling her “Doofus” whenever they got the opportunity. I am sure my indignant shrieks of displeasure were music to their ears. I should have known this would happen, as for the past two years of my life they’d been deriving great pleasure from shoving my favorite stuffed animal’s (Bob the Bear) head down into his body repeatedly. When I’d regain possession of Bob, and pull his head back out of his body, there would be not stuffing left in his head, and I’d have to painstakingly work the stuffing from his belly to his head so it wouldn’t just flop there like he’d had a stroke.
I’m getting an anxiety attack just thinking about it!
And I have a point. The point is, for a long time, I have thought my parents were a little lax when it came to defending their precious baby girl against those monsters they had previously spawned. I mean, honestly the most I can remember being said on the subject was “Well if you don’t cry about it they won’t do it anymore.” Seriously!? They just stuffed my bear’s HEAD into it’s BODY and you don’t want me to CRY about it! I’m four years old, you want me to be STOIC!??
Ok, again, I have a point. The point is, I have always believed that although every parent makes mistakes, my parents did about 99% of things right.
And last night, when Joshua and Sophie were screaming at each other over whose turn it was on the computer, and I told them I was not going to fuss about it with them and they needed to work it out themselves, I had a light bulb moment.
Sibling arguments are a pain in the butt to resolve. And I am not all interested in being a referee. No wonder my mom just let Andy smack me around (while Charles watched)! I guess she got that one right, too.
Hilarious. I grew up #4 of six children, so I learned self-defense/coping skills early. Now that I have my own crew, I struggled for a while to be the ‘voice of justice’… But you’re right. Some things they just have to solve for themselves. A book I have loved is called “Siblings without Rivalry”. It advocates setting up parameters for your kids to solve their own issues. I’ve tried to put it into practice (when I remember to take off my striped shirt and put up my whistle…)
Great post! – Julia
Ha, the thought of you being stoic… makes me laugh.
Stoic,NO!
Obviously someone in our lineage was a tad dramatic…look at us!
As to parenting percentages…well, I’d rather not take that test!
UP
Ahhhh, the memories…..I loved my fake Cabbage Patch Kid (my parents were too cheap to get me the real thing!), but I don’t remember her name.
I loved Cabbage Patch dolls too. However, I was the oldest child…so I didn’t have any problems with my siblings taking my dolls. However, my little brothers latched on to my Cabbage Patch dolls when they were 4 and 5. They renamed them Blankie and Window. My other brother, Levi and I were 11 and 12. We used to have so much fun telling them we were going to throw Blankie out the Window. Which still makes me laugh to this day.
Ahhhh, the good times.
I’m with you though, my kids fight (even though I swore they wouldn’t, being 8 years apart) and I just let them hash it out. The 2 year old can hold pretty good ground. LOL
I opened Summer Vacation by announcing to my kids: “you will get along. If you don’t get along, you will spend the rest of the day in your rooms. Both of you, no matter who was at fault. Doesn’t make any difference to Mommy whether you are playing outside with your friends, or stuck in your rooms. I will not play referee all summer long. So, either learn to deal with each other, or spend the summer in your rooms. I don’t care.”
The first day they spent in their rooms was the last–they worked out their own squabbles the rest of the summer! LOL, ‘mean mommy’ works!
Of course, little siblings can get their revenge. Rumor has it that I pushed my big brother out of his bunk bed while he slept. I was 4.
it’s like you read my mind with this post!!!!!! just last night (after the 487th time of our 4 year old son taking a toy from our 2 year old daughter, we both agreed that we actually can’t wait for the day where she hauls off and decks the kid instead of standing and crying. Obviously my pleas of “Be Ye Kind” are not working. And while I believe that God’s Word will not return void, it is taking longer to return than i’d like. So, I ask: where’s the line between letting your kids work it out (especially when they’re so young) and avoiding being the referee? Because, admittedly, I’d like to hang up my whistle too!!!!!!
Little sisters and brothers can be mean as well! Megan once head butted me in the teeth, at the time I had a full set of very sharp braces. And my husband is famous for teaching his older brothers GI Joes to “fly”…out the window of a moving car.