ADVERTISEMENT

FOLLOW US

OUR BLOG

Tips For Getting Girls Into Sports

Would it surprise you to know that girls are twice as likely to drop out of sporting activities through their teenage years than boys? Or to realize that most young girls start engaging in organized sports up to two whole years later than boys? …

How To Help A Friend Who Is an Addict

One of the most devastating things that can happen to any family is substance abuse in any form. Anything in excess is never good for anyone. That could be anything from too much food, exercise, alcohol or even shopping. Addictive behaviors can turn relationships upside down for those who…

OUR DAILY PINS

Advertisements

My mother (that's her on the right, sandwiched between my husband and my brother-in-law) used to say that I was never happy unless I was complaining.  As a kid, I never understood what she was talking about. How could anyone think that my astute commentary on the current state of affairs, delivered with just the right dramatic effect for optimal communication, was complaining?

Flash forward 35 years later. With two daughters of my own, ages five and seven, I get it.

Here’s what’s getting to me lately: Whining.

Dramatic whining. Whining that covers multiple octaves and decibels. It’s maddening. It makes me want to pull my hair out. And it has my utmost respect.

Before I had children of my own, I used to watch my friends crumble under the pressure brought on by their own whining children. Normally intelligent, sophisticated people, crushed under the weight of another day of the repeated moans and groans of their children, were reduced to whining themselves in a pitiful attempt at discipline.  I’ll never forget the high-pitched, drawn-out cry of my girlfriend, Elizabeth, as she tried in vain to scold her daughter, Sienna, after a prolonged bout of whining. “Sienna, would you pleeee-eeee-eeee-se, just SHUT UP?”

Elizabeth was whining. And I tsk tsked at her weakness.

But, seven years later, I find myself shamefully doing the same damn thing.  In top whining form, my girls can have me shakily reaching for a bottle of merlot by 8:30 a.m. on any given Saturday. Whining leads to wining.

Which is why whining has my respect. It’s a powerful tool, Wielded correctly, it can bring an otherwise strong, self-assured adult to their knees. Pit a small scrawny four-year old against a six-foot tall, confident dad… no competition is most areas of conflict. Dad can and should win every time. But if that four-year old has a strong desire for what he or she wants, and an iota of sense, he or she will start whining. Game over.  If dad has had a long day, or maybe is lacking sleep, so sad -- poor dad. He never stood a chance.

I think it’s called the Mother’s Curse. When your mother wishes upon you a child that is exactly like you, so that you may suffer as she did. Well, I’ve been cursed. I’m guessing many of us have. But I will never admit that to my mother. I won’t give her the satisfaction.

------------

For more, please visit It's Not Wine, It's Mommy Juice!

Views: 13

Comment

You need to be a member of Mom Bloggers Club to add comments!

Join Mom Bloggers Club

© 2017   Created by Mom Bloggers Club.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service