Feeling

One of the saddest moments during each day as a mother comes when my son comes to ask for something he knows he can’t have. It’s always the same little shuffle over to me, and he stays back, five feet or so, preparing himself. Finally, he’ll walk over close enough to put a hand on my knee or arm, look up at me with those little baby eyes and slowly utter whatever it is he wants — one or two words — as an interrogative.

“Juice?”
“Movie?”
“Ice Cream?”
“Snack?”
“Outside?”

Sometimes it’s just not the right time for what he wants, sometimes the answer is no. But he knows that already, and he asks slowly and with a quiet persistence that wears me down before I’ve even had a chance to build up my resolve. I feel bad before I even shake my head. I don’t want to say no, because I am already anticipating the sad wave of disappointment that is about to cloud my child’s face. I’m moments away from watching him cloud over and lower his head, seconds away from doubting myself and wondering if I’m being unfair, right on the cusp of being the one responsible for that look.

I say no, though. I don’t always give in, though I know that sometimes I can’t hack it. I let him stay up and eat a bowl of ice cream with me because I want him to have those kinds of memories. I want him to have memories of being up with mom when he shouldn’t have been, laughing and enjoying time together. Besides, there are those days when it feels like all I do is say no, and I break it up just for my own sanity. But when I stick with it, and refuse him after one of these requests, I always feel bad. Not just because I’ve said no and I feel guilty, but because these sorts of requests aren’t followed by a tantrum or a fit - the aftermath is devastating because it’s as if I’ve really let him down.

Michael thinks he’s manipulating me. Don’t worry — I know that three year olds are perfectly capable of doing such a thing, but I’m a softy. I’m the softy. It’s ridiculously hard to be without Mike right now because I’m terrible at being the mean one. Just last night, I said no to ice cream. He lowered his head, I could see tears welling up in his eyes. He was holding his bunny and he sort of hugged it as he started to turn around. He looked up at me again and sort of pauses, like he’s waiting to see if I’ve changed my mind, or if I’m still there. I might have to shake my head again, or (more often) try to explain the situation again, why I’m saying no. It never makes a difference.

He turns and usually goes into his room. Last night, after ice cream was ruled out, he walked into his room and climbed in bed. He was totally exhausted, too tired to really cry or whine about it. I didn’t follow him because I was hoping he’d go to sleep. After a few minutes I went in to check. He was sound asleep on top of the covers with Bunny. I walked over to tuck him in and could see a tear stain on his cheek. He fell asleep crying so quietly I couldn’t hear him.

If you have kids, you’re groaning right about now, because no doubt your kid has (intentionally or no) made you feel this way before. I felt terrible. Awful. Horrible. And I know that if Mike was here we would have talked about it and felt bad but realized he has to learn to live with disappointment, and just because he’s cute that doesn’t mean he can have ice cream at 10 pm. Intellectually, I know that I did the right thing, or the closest thing to it, but emotionally, I feel like a bad mother. I made him cry. Over ice cream. He fell asleep sad and alone in his room, crying, because of me. Because I wouldn’t let him have ice cream.

So you know what? He had ice cream for breakfast.

I’m having a flashback of all the times my boys were that young. I know what you’re going through and the little tear-stained face would have SLAYED me. No doubt!

Oh. My. God. You big softie, you! Can I have ice cream for breakfast, too?

aww…you’re totally a great mom, and not just because you gave him ice cream for breakfast, but because you actully take time to think about his feelings. not all parents do that.

The image alone made me want to cry too.
I would have given him the ice cream for breakfast too.

I have a feeling that I’ll be the one having a hard time being the mean one as well. Nicholas can all ready melt me with those big brown eyes.

I forsee lots of ice cream.

oh, you’re lucky.
when i say no to ice-cream requests, i don’t get “tears welling up in her eyes” kind of reaction. i get a “NOOOOOOOO!!!!”, crazy red face… pure, concentrated anger. it’s quite spectacular.

Ahh, the anger is easier. I would have given him ice cream too.

Once I gave his dad strawberry shortcake for breakfast…I figured you’ve got fruit, grains and dairy, right, not that different from a bowl of cereal. He was in first grade I think, and he threw it all up on the playground before school started. The secretary called to say he was ill, and that he was insisting he’d had strawberry shortcake for breakfast. She, of course, KNEW he was lying, that I would never had done that….

My mother told me about a friend who would cut a piece of cake for her children even though it was a cake that she had baked for a special occasion or planned to take someplace. The friend always said “What if they got sick tomorrow and couldn’t eat cake?” I’ve thought about that a lot as my children grew up and as I now have a grandchild. Is it going to make a difference a year, a month, a week down the road whether they stayed up a little later to have ice cream, or if they had a piece of cake even though they didn’t finish all their dinner, etc., etc., etc.? Some things you say no to because it’s really bad for them or it’s going to hurt them, but some things just aren’t worth the fight and bad feelings.