Pushover

I am a pushover mom. Seriously. On Wednesday, I poured Brandon some Fruit Loops for breakfast. He pointed at the cheese popcorn. So I let him have some of that. And then he pulled out the box of Rice Krispie treats. He had two. My parenting mantra has been, “it’s not worth the fight.” Real mature, I know. Who runs this house and makes the rules? My one-year-old.

So it’s time I take back control. Tonight, I let him whimper until he fell asleep on his own. It kills me to hear him cry, but I am telling myself over and over that there is a difference between what he needs and what he wants. He’ll tell me what he wants, but I know what he needs. He wants to stay up and play, but he needs sleep. He wants to eat cheese popcorn all day every day, but he needs a balanced diet. And maybe by letting him get what he wants I’ve also been giving myself what I want, rather than what we need.

I want a peaceful, quiet, hassle-free evening. What I need is a boy who learns that he is capable to fall asleep on his own. What I want is for Brandon to be happy in this moment. What I need is for Brandon to develop healthy habits.

I’m not a perfect parent. This is my first time raising a child. I have taken the easy road so far. It’s time to take this responsibility a little more seriously. I’m not his babysitter. I’m his mother. Man, I’m starting to sound like every mom unliked by children universally. I remember how uncool those moms were when I was growing up. I also know how well-adjusted their children turn out to be.