Lowering My Expectations So I Can Meet Them

Posted by Sheri at 5/20/2007 10:19 PM
Categories: uncategorized
Today my 20-month-old's afternoon snack was blueberries dipped in ketchup.  A few years ago, before I had children, I would have found tolerating this a repulsive act akin to child abuse.  After the first child was born, I would have understood the dilemma, she's eating and fruit no less, but would have encouraged her to eat the fruit sans the Heinz, which technically was on her plate for the hot dog she eventually tried to feed to her stuffed bear.  Today I sat there watching her dip her blueberries and hoped the ketchup would fill her up so I wouldn't have to get up to fetch her seconds.

To this end, I propose a theory that would prove what I now term the If You Didn't Want to Live Like This You Should've Been Born First Act.  The theory is derived from a set of principles based on the Law of Diminishing Returns.  Not the actual law drenched in economic gibberish, but rather the law I'm making up.  It essentially states that with each subsequent child, a parent's ability to give a rip declines exponentially.  So for example, my brother has six kids.  When his first born was a preschooler, his wife used to spend every afternoon working with him on letters and numbers.  By the time their third kid was a preschooler, she had the older two working with #3 on his letters and numbers.  When she was pregnant with her sixth, she ate alphabet soup once and hoped for the best.

Another unfortunate consequence of an undesirable birth order (any order other than first) is childproofing, or lack therefore.  New parents have a tendency to see the big picture in a way other mortals cannot.  They can clearly visualize the reality of a jawbreaker making its way past security clearance into their home, inadvertently bouncing out of the pocket of a yuppie thirty-something friend in a business suit who for some reason unknown to man was carrying jawbreakers in his pocket, and lands thirty feet down the hall and around two corners, and plops right into the toilet.  These soon-to-be nominated parents of the year are able to anticipate that their wide-eyed toddler will discern the flying object as both sugary and sweet, be able to calmly and rationally pull a chair twice his size over to reach the bathroom doorknob, where he'll squash previous held beliefs of normal developmental milestones and demonstrate the fine motor skills of a child six years his senior to manipulate the childproof lock and be granted entry, so obviously putting him at risk for nose-diving into the toilet and compromising his safety.  These are parents of one children.  It's what they do.  It's what I did.  The Law of Diminishing Returns offers insight as to what I did next.  I taught my children if they ever encounter a jawbreaker, try really hard not to whip it at their sibling as a weapon.  But rather, try and save it because it makes a really cool nose on a jack-o-lantern.

Shoes are another victim of the If You Didn't Want to Live Like This You Been Born First Act.  My son was always expected to keep his shoes on at all times when we were outside our house.  Winter meant shoes and socks, summer meant sandals, swimming meant swimming shoes.  With my daughter keeping your shoes on means at least until we get to the car, then again for at least five minutes when we get where we're going so other parents will know shoes were a parental requirement upon arrival.  If I were to have a third child, he would be born, the afterbirth would pass, and his shoes would forever remain hanging on a shoe rack in my uterus.
 

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