I have long accepted that as a mother, I can be friendly to my children but I won’t always be their friend.
Otherwise, they will just see me as fun Mommy and not the Mommy who can discipline them when they’re out of bounds.
Today, December 3, is a crazy day for me. There was work to be done, Christmas decor to plan, a couple of medicines to take to treat this respiratory tract infection, a sick girl to comfort, a hyperactive four-year-old to play with and an extremely inquisitive six-year-old boy to manage.
Im between all these craziness, there’s my unexpected mission to pacify a raging war.
Anyone who hasn’t tried working while trying to break apart a fistfightbetween two rambunctious boys and a headstrong girl should try to file for an internship at my house. Know that this is the first step to a career in peace building so try having kids if you want to foray in that field.
Today, I had to call out Nicholas because he got one of my phones from my bag so he can listen to Maroon 5’s Memories. (Believe me, this was a surprise to me and another story to be told. They came home one afternoon and told me about this cool song. I’m a Maroon 5 fan but I can’t believe I learned this song from them).
But back to our central story.
I got upset at Nicholas because: (1) he did not ask permission to borrow my phones when house rules are clear about seeking permission; (2) he hid under the workshop table so I won’t see him which shows that he knows that what he did is wrong; and (3) he hit his twin sister because she ratted him out to me.
In a firm voice, I told him to give my phone. His nose was wrinkled when he did what I told him to do. His eyebrows met at the center. He looked very handsome like that and I was tempted to hug him and smother him with kisses.
But I am a Mom so I told him to stand in a corner as I went about editing a couple of stories for work.
The house was silent for 20 minutes.
Twenty minutes after, I got this paper. It was delivered by the twin sister. The six-year-old boy said he is sad because I scolded him.
He later approached me and said that he wants to leave the house.
But he said he wanted to talk to me about it because to be a Ruffolo means talking to your Mommy or Daddy when you don’t feel right.
“I don’t feel right, Mom,” he said.
“What should we do about it then?” I responded.
“Maybe we can read a story from the bible and then you can tell me what I did wrong?” was his suggestion.
In my line of work, I was trained to “show, not tell.” But in a home where I am raising miniature adults, it is also good to pair up showing with telling.
Nicholas told me that tonight in a sweet, thoughtful and heartwarming way.
It wasn’t enough that I showed him that I was upset. My six-year-old boy needed a moment for us to sit down, to talk, to process, and to tell each other what went wrong.
We had a really good talk. Nobody told me how refreshing conversations with a six-year-old boy can be. We veered away from the topic a couple of times and I had to answer a couple of questions involving Jesus on the cross, Frozen 2, the Three Stooges, and Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon.
But most of the time, we discussed good behavior and what it means to him and our family.
We ended the night with a mug of hot chocolate as I narrated for the hundredth time how I gave birth to him and his twin sister.
There were so many giggles tonight and the house was embraced in this certain glow that only Nicholas’ laughter can do.
