Mood:
d'ohTopic: mommyhood
Tomorrow, being July 1, is the Third Mark: That point of summer vacation when the first month is over and you have two to go. One third down. It is amazing to me the difference in feeling between the Third Mark and Second-Third Mark, the latter of which being distinguished by the sense of dread - dread that simultaneously, and strangely, comes from both the sense that summer is ending too soon, and not soon enough. That is August 1st. Thankfully, we're still stationed at the onset of July.
That my children, then, are spending the week slapping each other silly is still somewhat tolerable. The torch of blame is passing now from the camp of "They are still adjusting to the summer togetherness" to the "They are sick and tired and bored to tears of each other" team. (This team was sweetly interrupted with Tobey's endearing comment about the birthday sleepover. So, it goes to show that this camp is mercifully inconsistent. It is my saving grace.)
The slapping, though, is troubling. No mother can turn completely the other way to blatant hitting, not even we hands-off (lazy) ones. That it hurts is half the problem; that it quickly becomes habit is the real concern. I had a reminder of that recently when the neighbor kid pushed Tobey in the sandbox. If an innocent chipmunk is worth his abuse, imagine a pushy little girl messing on his turf. But, then, that brings to light the complexity at work: There is satisfaction in seeing my child defend himself. And, the obvious: Somewhere, the neighbor kid got in the habit of pushing. It is, after all, what three-year-olds do well.
And so here is where the lines blur: At what point is my child defending himself from my other children? Because the eyes of this hands-off (lazy) mom can't be everywhere, often I am relying on the skewed perspectives of my children. Who was the victim, and who the perpetrator, are wildly arbitrary in almost every instance. Thus, it is all a grand set-up for favoring one over the other, for the ousting of one at the support of the other, for the line that made the Smothers Brothers famous: "Mom likes you best."
Unfortunately, and ironcially, the jealousy and hurt feelings that can result from deciphering (accurately or not) who started/deserved/participated in the violence, can often lead to more slapping.
And there we have it, Dear Readers. My full-scale justification for my typical Third Mark behavior: When the screams begin, I hide in the closet. Which is exactly where I keep a stash of Little Debbies. Call it cheap (lazy) therapy, for us all. The sacrifices we moms make are astounding.
