Having three kids is hard. Sometimes it’s in the ways you would expect. Other times things you never expected sideline you.
As I was putting things away this afternoon (I’m still catching up from the whirlwind that was Christmas/New Years) I glanced at a picture of my oldest that I haven’t looked at in a while. He is around four and MMM is probably one and a half. I remember taking the picture. It was a gift for my husband for father’s day. I took them in my in-laws backyard. It was a warm, sunny day and the boys were being really good. What I don’t remember is how little my oldest was. I remember him being older, the big brother.
I’ve been thinking about this lately. My expectations for my oldest are all out of whack. I keep forgetting that he is still a little boy. I often expect him to act like a little man, mostly because he is the oldest. Sometimes I need him to be a big boy. Sometimes it’s fair; sometimes it’s not.
I mostly just wanted to write this down for me to remember. When I get frustrated with him for not behaving I need to stop and evaluate. Am I being reasonable? Are my expectations on par with his age? Is my reaction equitable considering he is only six?
My mother-in-law jokes that this is why we should have more than one kid. In a way I agree. I’ve learned so much from parenting my oldest. I’ve learned some things about what I should do but I feel like mostly I’ve learned what I shouldn’t be doing. I’m hoping to be more fair to my oldest. I don’t want to stop having high expectations for him but when he falls short
I want I need to be more gentle with my sweet little boy.