Picking My Battles = Backing off of theirs

Today on Mom.me, I wrote about letting them fight... 

Once upon a time, we lived a harmonious life of love and light and siblings who cradled each other lovingly beside a crackling fire. And while they certainly adore each other and sporadically show it, fighting has become a sort of second language around these parts.

Not that they don't get along beautifully as well because they do. Much of the time, they do. (Archer is my co-parent in the morning on most days. Fable, too.)

But, with Tamara gone since June, I've been overwhelmed, with more to do and less patience to do it. If, "MOM! I NEED YOU!" was a drinking game, I would be dead with alcohol poisoning by 6:12 am. And then I would re-die every fifteen minutes forever. 

Which is fine. I want to be there for them. I LOVE BEING THERE FOR THEM! But sometimes... well... 

I lose it. They lose it and then I lose it and suddenly we're all just very, very, extremely, very lost...

...It was then I realized that, in fact, anger DOES do strange and unexpected things to people, even young people, siblings who love each other, and that perhaps all of this sparring and bickering and crying and wanting to sit in the same chair at the same time is an important training period for young humans. This is the time they deal with conflict and resolution, compromise and apology… and lucky for them, they have each other, people who will love them unconditionally while they experiment with being a little bit shitty.

Because so much of being a brother, a sister, a twin… is learning how to:

A. Stand up for yourself

B. Pick your battles

C. Let it go

D. Assert yourself.

E. Empathize.

F. Respect others

G… and yourself

H. All of the above

I. This is the longest multiple choice question ever.

J. K, I’m done now

And in a way, this explosion of angst and bickering is like watching four someday-adults warm up.

“You were the same way,” my mom tells me of my brother and me. “You were awful to each other at this age.”

Anyway. After the Infamous “Mom Used the F word five times in the car” incident earlier this summer, I have made it a point to let them fight… realizing that if you can’t beat ‘em, let ‘em beat each other… Not physically, of course, but I have come to recognize that a battle over “who gets to play with which legos” is not mine to win. Or even participate in, really...  

You can read the rest of the column in its entirety, here.

Godspeed, mamas.

GGC