the eugene bean

There’s this thing about Jake.

He prefers that now. I knew it would happen one day- that his teachers and friends would start calling him Jake, and there would be this shift- this ‘Oh My God he has become a small man’ shift.

But actually, that’s not the thing about J that I’m currently having issues with. The real parental woe here doesn’t even have much to do with J. The true problem? I’ve somehow become an inconsistent, lazy, contradictory blob of a mother.

Here’s an example for you. When Ty is strict with J (raised voice, maybe some finger pointing, maybe a swift bang of the open hand on the kitchen table) I say stupid things- out loud, mind you- like “It’s not his fault he left the door open.”

What?

Then whose fault is it? Really, the kid comes inside after playing and is in such a tizzy to Do Something Important (like sit on the sofa and beg for a snack) that he leaves the front door wide open to attract all the flies and stray kids from the neighborhood.

Another aside:
The neighborhood kids. Whoa. They are kids, and I think we can all agree that kids do dumb things. These kids are no exception. Except these kids? They all play, all 13 (Thirteen!) of them, in an area that is the size of an Olympic swimming pool. And it’s right outside my front door.

Here’s another stellar example of my lack of good judgment:
Ty: We have ice-cream for dessert tonight, I’m almost finished my dinner!
Me: J, you have 5 minutes to finish eating (Three green beans, ACK!) or you will miss out on dessert.
(Painful, slow, agonizing minutes go by in which J sniffs and licks the green bean.)
Ty: Hey! Put It In Your Mouth Right Now and Eat It. No! Don’t Think About It, Do It, Now.
Me: He already ate one, you don’t need to fuss at him.

What? What the what? When did I become such a dumbass? Sucked in and tossed around by something as stupid as a green bean? (A good green bean, by the way. From a can but tossed with brown butter and garlic paste. Easy. And good.)

Here’s further proof (as if you needed it) that my parenting skills are on the decline:
I’m talking to E after dinner and we make a deal to read Ms. Mary Mack on the sofa if bedtime preparations go well. So far, so good. I go wash dishes and Ty helps the kids get ready for bed. Then things get not so good.

(Sure, Ty could have been a little more helpful, but we’ll cut him some slack. After all, he is losing his 4th straight week in fantasy football. He had more important things to do, like try to salvage his reputation.)

However, Anyway, and Furthermore: the Great Big Majority of the not so good things? They belonged to E. He acted like a big shit: bugged his brother, made a mess, stalled, and whined.

Then we sat together and read Ms. Mary Mack on the sofa.

Excuse me? What? I’m a fool?

What is happening to me? How have I become a lazy parent? I know exactly how to stop those behaviors, I’m no idiot.

You, you 8 and 4 year old peons down there! You hear me? Huh? I am bigger and stronger and wiser and even more stubborn than you. I could squash you.

Don’t make me turn this car around. Because if I say it, I have to mean it, and that’s gonna make you very unhappy.