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.


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