Having to deal with an extremely combative 5-year-old, you learn to pick your battles very carefully.
Prior to having kids I envisioned myself being an extremely strict parent. More “Do as I say” than “Okay, let’s negotiate.” However, these days, I find myself letting things slide more than I ever thought I would.
Don’t get me wrong; I am very much a stickler when it comes to important issues, such as hygiene (there’s no negotiating out of daily teeth brushing), manners (“please” and “thank you” are required, not merely suggested), proper behavior (talking back and hitting are never tolerated), and safety (playing with matches, running into traffic, taking candy from strangers, etc. will be met with negative consequences).
The rules associated with the aforementioned issues are non-negotiable in our home. However, I’ve learned that it simply isn’t worth the time, energy or gray hair to go to battle over every.single.little.thing. For example, whereas I love clipping back my daughter’s bangs (to improve her line of sight), I’m not going to engage in a 20-minute battle with her when she protests.
Ditto for mealtime wars. There was a time when my daughter would only eat white meat (pork, chicken and turkey). She’d cry when I forced her to eat hamburger, pout when I begged her to try steak, and hide under the table when I threatened to take away toys following an ugly incident involving ham. I forced the issue because I feared that she wasn’t getting the nutrients she needed to grow properly. However, after discussing my dilemma with my daughter’s pediatrician, who assured me that my then toddler was perfectly healthy and it was pointless to force feed kids, I began to lighten up.
Two years later my daughter adores ham and devours steak like a ravenous lion.
I’ve learned that letting certain things slide can be quite liberating. I no longer care when my daughter ventures out of her closet looking like Punky Brewster. My blood pressure doesn’t spike when she dumps out an entire 500-count box of cotton swabs to make a dam for her stuffed beaver, and I no longer engage in heated discussions over why it’s important to return playthings back to their proper place on the shelf. Heck, these days I’m happy if toys are picked up at all.
In the end, I’ve found that holding steadfast to trivial ideas is often more reflective of a parent’s stubbornness than a child’s.
What kinds of things do you let slide in order to preserve your sanity?