This is a thankless job

Our familiar dinner time frustration took on a new dimension Monday night. Most evenings, I can anticipate a familiar set of battles - them: "How much more do I have to eat (before I can have dessert)?" or me: "Stop screwing around and eat your food already!" Aside: Seriously, Mark and I can have our whole meal eaten before Paul has even gotten a couple bites down. That's how pokey and unfocused he is about mealtimes.

This night, however, an all-out battle erupted. It's one that had been simmering for days, and it chose to boil over the night Mark was working late and unable join us for supper (lucky SOB!). To make a long story short, Ben got this Lego Ninjago guy for his birthday. Gus loves Ninjago and has been known to take and play with Ben's guy. Let's just say that Gus is not super-considerate about the whole thing.

So Ben has a point. It is his toy, and he, and everyone else in the house, is sick of Gus getting his way by whining. (I've seriously got to find a solution to that.) Gus also has a point. Ben does not play with this Lego guy. He doesn't really play with toys at all anymore. He's just kind of dug in his heels and decided he does not want Gus to have this toy. Gus couldn't find his Ninjago Jay on Monday, so I let him play with Ben's, justifying it using the Gus POV.

Monday night at dinner, Ben discovered what I'd done and completely lost it. He sobbed and yelled in frustration. I made him leave the table until he was calm. When he came back, I told him it wasn't really Gus's fault, that I'd given the toy to Gus. He screamed, "I know! I'm mad at you!" Ouch.

This is just another incident that solidifies for me how hard it is to be a parent. When you have more than one child, you simply cannot please everyone. Kids are naturally self-centered, and no matter how hard I wish they could see my point of view and how hard I'm trying to succeed at this difficult job, they can't.

Lately I've been getting a lot of the "You're mean!" from Ben. It's really hard to hear that. I know you're not supposed to be your child's friend, and that's not really what I want. At the same time, though, I want to be thought of as a benevolent dictator, at the very least. I want the boys to know how much I love them and that I'm always looking out for their best interest. I short, I want to be understood.

Sadly, I think wanting my 3-, 6- and 9-year-old to understand my heart's deepest intentions probably is too lofty a goal. For that, I may need to wait a good 10 to 15 years or so. Or until they're parents. Then, they'll know. Oh, will they ever.