Sometimes kids are really frustrating. Okay, not necessarily kids, just life in general. Now that I think about it again, it's the kids...
For those of you who don't know, I belong to a NASCAR Sim Racing league, and I've been racing with them on Tuesday nights for almost four years. This has never been a problem because on Tuesdays the kids are with their mom, so I've got the night to myself. Every now and then -- like when a holiday comes up -- we race on a different night. Because of Valentine's day falling on Tuesday this year, the league decided to race last night.
Since I have the kids on Mondays, I was prepared to skip last night's race. I went home and asked them whether or not they minded if I raced, and specifically said that I'd skip the race if they wanted me to. Both of them said it was okay to race.
While I was running practice, my wife and older daughter went out for some one-on-one time, leaving my younger and me at the house alone. My younger daughter started playing her guitar, dancing, singing and generally occupying herself, but occasionally asking for my attention. When she'd ask, I'd stop, remind her that I was practicing but would watch her anyway, and said that once the race started she couldn't interrupt me -- unless she asked me to not race, which I was still prepared to do.
When race time arrived, I told her that I was starting, and reminded her that I wanted to be left alone to race. I didn't figure it'd be a big deal, because my wife and older daughter got home at that time. Cool. The young 'un would be occupied.
The race commenced, and I began to concentrate. The outside world disappeared as I focused on the track. With my headphones on, it was difficult to hear what was happening in the world, but every now and then, I'd hear kids squealing, laughter, music and whatnot... just enough to distract me.
Eventually, the distraction got the better of me and I slammed into the wall. I was going to try to continue hobbling around the track for points, but still being distracted, I hit a wrong key on the keyboard and dropped myself from the race. I figured that was God's way of telling me to hang out with the kids. The second that I was out of my chair, my wife informed me that I was needed in my younger daughter's bedroom. I walked in, saw her on the bed with the guitar, noticed that she was upset and sat down beside her.
"What's wrong, kid?"
"I don't want to say. I'm afraid that you'll get mad." I figured that she was going to tell me that she wanted to quit guitar, and mentally prepared myself for it. "I feel like the race was more important to you than I was," she continued. I wasn't quite prepared for that. I explained that her perception wasn't how I felt, and reminded her that I had given her sister and her the choice of whether or not I raced. "I knew that you wanted to do it, and I didn't want you to be mad or feel bad."
Okay, it was beginning to look like I had a woman-in-training. I gave her the choice. She made the choice that it was okay to race, and then somehow I was supposed to miraculously read her mind and know what she was thinking, despite the fact that it directly contradicted her words. In all honesty, I was pissed, but I didn't want to make matters worse, so I ate the anger and didn't say anything. Instead I told her that I understood how she felt, and that next time this happens, she should be willing to tell me what she wants. Feeling satisfied that I did the best I could in this situation, I went to the kitchen and started cooking dinner.
That was when my older daughter told me she had a queasy tummy and asked for a salad, instead of what I was preparing -- one of her favorite meals. I subconsciously rolled my eyes, knowing that the drama bug had magically passed from my younger daughter to my older daughter. My older daughter never even had a chance to miss me, because my wife was keeping her occupied, yet somehow she too felt slighted that I was playing my game. I was even more pissed, but again chose to eat the anger rather than escalate things. So I spent the next little while interacting with the kids while I was cooking. By dinnertime, my younger daughter was once again happy, and my older daughter's appetite magically reappeared.
My mission of keeping them happy was accomplished, but it would have been so much easier if they'd just told me up front that they wanted me to play with them instead of race. And oh yeah, to complicate matters more, I later found out from my wife that the little 'un was never really pissed at me about the race. She'd had a hard day at school. Apparently her boyfriend was dissin' her, so she dumped him, and she was upset about that.
This is my 9-year-old, by the way... and it's a boyfriend that I don't officially know about. Apparently she's not ready to tell me that she's got a boyfriend. I was a little relieved that she wasn't pissed at me about the racing, but I was also a little irritated that she took the whole boyfriend thing out on me... espeically considering that I don't officially even know that she's got a boyfriend. After all, I'm not a mindreader.
For those of you who don't know, I belong to a NASCAR Sim Racing league, and I've been racing with them on Tuesday nights for almost four years. This has never been a problem because on Tuesdays the kids are with their mom, so I've got the night to myself. Every now and then -- like when a holiday comes up -- we race on a different night. Because of Valentine's day falling on Tuesday this year, the league decided to race last night.
Since I have the kids on Mondays, I was prepared to skip last night's race. I went home and asked them whether or not they minded if I raced, and specifically said that I'd skip the race if they wanted me to. Both of them said it was okay to race.
While I was running practice, my wife and older daughter went out for some one-on-one time, leaving my younger and me at the house alone. My younger daughter started playing her guitar, dancing, singing and generally occupying herself, but occasionally asking for my attention. When she'd ask, I'd stop, remind her that I was practicing but would watch her anyway, and said that once the race started she couldn't interrupt me -- unless she asked me to not race, which I was still prepared to do.
When race time arrived, I told her that I was starting, and reminded her that I wanted to be left alone to race. I didn't figure it'd be a big deal, because my wife and older daughter got home at that time. Cool. The young 'un would be occupied.
The race commenced, and I began to concentrate. The outside world disappeared as I focused on the track. With my headphones on, it was difficult to hear what was happening in the world, but every now and then, I'd hear kids squealing, laughter, music and whatnot... just enough to distract me.
Eventually, the distraction got the better of me and I slammed into the wall. I was going to try to continue hobbling around the track for points, but still being distracted, I hit a wrong key on the keyboard and dropped myself from the race. I figured that was God's way of telling me to hang out with the kids. The second that I was out of my chair, my wife informed me that I was needed in my younger daughter's bedroom. I walked in, saw her on the bed with the guitar, noticed that she was upset and sat down beside her.
"What's wrong, kid?"
"I don't want to say. I'm afraid that you'll get mad." I figured that she was going to tell me that she wanted to quit guitar, and mentally prepared myself for it. "I feel like the race was more important to you than I was," she continued. I wasn't quite prepared for that. I explained that her perception wasn't how I felt, and reminded her that I had given her sister and her the choice of whether or not I raced. "I knew that you wanted to do it, and I didn't want you to be mad or feel bad."
Okay, it was beginning to look like I had a woman-in-training. I gave her the choice. She made the choice that it was okay to race, and then somehow I was supposed to miraculously read her mind and know what she was thinking, despite the fact that it directly contradicted her words. In all honesty, I was pissed, but I didn't want to make matters worse, so I ate the anger and didn't say anything. Instead I told her that I understood how she felt, and that next time this happens, she should be willing to tell me what she wants. Feeling satisfied that I did the best I could in this situation, I went to the kitchen and started cooking dinner.
That was when my older daughter told me she had a queasy tummy and asked for a salad, instead of what I was preparing -- one of her favorite meals. I subconsciously rolled my eyes, knowing that the drama bug had magically passed from my younger daughter to my older daughter. My older daughter never even had a chance to miss me, because my wife was keeping her occupied, yet somehow she too felt slighted that I was playing my game. I was even more pissed, but again chose to eat the anger rather than escalate things. So I spent the next little while interacting with the kids while I was cooking. By dinnertime, my younger daughter was once again happy, and my older daughter's appetite magically reappeared.
My mission of keeping them happy was accomplished, but it would have been so much easier if they'd just told me up front that they wanted me to play with them instead of race. And oh yeah, to complicate matters more, I later found out from my wife that the little 'un was never really pissed at me about the race. She'd had a hard day at school. Apparently her boyfriend was dissin' her, so she dumped him, and she was upset about that.
This is my 9-year-old, by the way... and it's a boyfriend that I don't officially know about. Apparently she's not ready to tell me that she's got a boyfriend. I was a little relieved that she wasn't pissed at me about the racing, but I was also a little irritated that she took the whole boyfriend thing out on me... espeically considering that I don't officially even know that she's got a boyfriend. After all, I'm not a mindreader.
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