I came to the realisation this year that I think the Christmas tail was now wagging the dog. I no longer feel in control of Christmas. Budgeting is a dim and distant memory; not it is an orgy of excess and some 'responsibility-driven' purchasing.
"Oh we must buy for Aunt Fanny because she will get something for us."
No, no, no, NO!!!
This has to stop and I have made it my resolution this year to not be controlled by the feeling that we need to buy for others.
We have a set of friends that we have an annual Christmas tradition of going on one of the steam trains to see Father Christmas. I would much rather have an agreement with my friends to do no presents, but instead to create a memory, have an experience.
I have begun to talk about this with some of our friends and so far received universal agreement. Children seem to get overwhelmed by all the presents they receive these days, and the day can become about opening presents rather than the gift itself. It takes a lot of work as a parent to restrain a child's exuberance and connect them with the fact somebody has taken the time to get them something.
Inevitably, and through nothing but the best of intentions from friends and family, you are left with a pile of gifts that are not wanted. Appreciated but not wanted. They might not fit, or might not last, or simply might not be to somebody's taste. There is no criticism it is just the way of the world. I do not want any of my friends to feel they have wasted their money, in the same way that I do not want them feeling like they have to make use of whatever it is we have got them or their children.
So next year I am hoping for a slimmed down Christmas. It is a cliche but one that I think is particularly important to hold on to:
Rather than presents from people, I want their presence in creating memories together.
Henry will have fewer presents, but hopefully will be able to appreciate them more. I certainly do not want his idea of Christmas to be one that is represented by a sea of presents.
Wish me luck.
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Friday, 12 January 2018
Wednesday, 4 November 2015
Tantrums and tears
Picture the scene.
A father is carrying a screaming child who he has wrapped up in front of him from one end of the gardens to the car park. The child is crying out that the father is hurting him; it appears to be a firm but non-restrictive hold.
Some passers-by wince.
"That would never be our child" thinks a father. "Ah...wait. This is my child. I am that parent. Bugger."
I thought we had some tantrums during the terrible twos and I entered Henry's threes with a certain air of smugness.
"Yeah, he's had some tantrums, but nothing too bad."
Smug sod. I hate past-me.
Henry has very clearly been demonstrating that we are not in control and we are nothing like as good at this parenting thing as we thought we were. He has demonstrated some real barnstormers in the last two months. On two occasions I have worried that the incident might end in pea soup.
And here is the really difficult part to accept as a parent. No matter how patient you might be, how good your distractions might be, how much you ignore and how focussed you are on the good - three year olds get tired. And they cannot be controlled.
Nobody can be controlled, except yourself. You can attempt to create conditions that give the illusion of control, but really all you are hoping and praying for is that the child makes the choice you want to. And in this period of development, sometimes, he or she just thinks:
"To hell with what you want. I am an individual! A small, tired, incredibly vocal individual! Hear my roar!"
And all that is left for you as a parent is to weather the storm and pick up the sobbing pieces afterwards. Because once the storm has blown itself out you are left with a very vulnerable, upset little boy that doesn't really understand what just happened and needs reassurance that everything is ok in the world. It would be so easy to get caught in a vicious cycle where each other's frustration feeds and adds to the other's. The trick to parenting is securing their world and putting aside, for the moment, everything that was triggered in you - the lack of control, the frustration, the guilt and, I will admit it, the anger, and get back to being what your little boy needs you to be.
It is so very difficult, but so very important. Acknowledging we are human is not something we do often enough as parents. Emily and I are very lucky to have each other, close family and friends with children of a similar age that we can share stories with, offload and seek advice without fear of judgement. I dread to think what it would be like without them and I appreciate them every day.
A father is carrying a screaming child who he has wrapped up in front of him from one end of the gardens to the car park. The child is crying out that the father is hurting him; it appears to be a firm but non-restrictive hold.
Some passers-by wince.
"That would never be our child" thinks a father. "Ah...wait. This is my child. I am that parent. Bugger."
I thought we had some tantrums during the terrible twos and I entered Henry's threes with a certain air of smugness.
"Yeah, he's had some tantrums, but nothing too bad."
Smug sod. I hate past-me.
Henry has very clearly been demonstrating that we are not in control and we are nothing like as good at this parenting thing as we thought we were. He has demonstrated some real barnstormers in the last two months. On two occasions I have worried that the incident might end in pea soup.
And here is the really difficult part to accept as a parent. No matter how patient you might be, how good your distractions might be, how much you ignore and how focussed you are on the good - three year olds get tired. And they cannot be controlled.
Nobody can be controlled, except yourself. You can attempt to create conditions that give the illusion of control, but really all you are hoping and praying for is that the child makes the choice you want to. And in this period of development, sometimes, he or she just thinks:
"To hell with what you want. I am an individual! A small, tired, incredibly vocal individual! Hear my roar!"
And all that is left for you as a parent is to weather the storm and pick up the sobbing pieces afterwards. Because once the storm has blown itself out you are left with a very vulnerable, upset little boy that doesn't really understand what just happened and needs reassurance that everything is ok in the world. It would be so easy to get caught in a vicious cycle where each other's frustration feeds and adds to the other's. The trick to parenting is securing their world and putting aside, for the moment, everything that was triggered in you - the lack of control, the frustration, the guilt and, I will admit it, the anger, and get back to being what your little boy needs you to be.
It is so very difficult, but so very important. Acknowledging we are human is not something we do often enough as parents. Emily and I are very lucky to have each other, close family and friends with children of a similar age that we can share stories with, offload and seek advice without fear of judgement. I dread to think what it would be like without them and I appreciate them every day.
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