I was sitting on the kitchen floor, playing with the kids. We had a variety of cars and other toys, and were “zooming” them around the floor. It was fun, actually. The kids were giggling and I couldn’t help but laugh with them. At one point, I looked up from our play and really SAW the room. Everything was really tall. The back of the sofa was above my head and I couldn’t see into the family room because my view was blocked by furniture. The gate that blocks the living room was too tall to mount. And it hit me. This is how they see the room every day. Ironically, it didn’t even feel like the same room in some ways.
We forget, sometimes, that others experience a space or time differently than we do.
Their difference in perspective may be due to physical attributes, such as height or weight. An item that is easy to reach for one may be difficult and frustrating for another. A chair that is comfortable for one person may be highly uncomfortable for another. The difference may be due to area of expertise. An individual who is knowledgeable about the topic of conversation is much more likely to feel at ease than one who is unable to understand. A person is also more likely to feel comfortable in a room with familiar people than strangers. It makes sense. Most people are happier when success is easier to achieve. I know that I am.
We all get frustrated with others sometimes. As I spend most of my time with my husband and my kids, they are my greatest point of reference for this particular emotion. I spend all day, every day, with my kids. It would be fair to say that I experience a fair amount of frustration with two, 2.5 year old children. After all, they are human enough to be highly emotional and way too young to be even vaguely rational. Sometimes that’s a deadly combination. As for my husband, let’s just say that we both have our frustrations with the other. I get frustrated with him for actions that he does and does not take. From where I sit, those actions were essential, either to complete or to avoid. He gets frustrated with me for pressuring him on issues that don’t seem to deserve the attention they are receiving. From his seat, their priority is much lower and outweighed by something else that he is actively working towards.
And it all comes down to perspective. When I say “no” to my kids, it may not be a huge deal to me, but it’s enormous to them. To me, it’s just juice. What’s the big deal, right? Can’t they quench their thirst with water? To them, it’s one more indication that they do not have control over their lives. It’s not about juice; it’s about what the denial of juice represents. And it’s serious!
I have been running into some interesting power struggles with my son recently. They are very comparable to the ones I encountered with my daughter a few months ago. Everything was a fight, a struggle. Then, suddenly, it went away. She calmed down and became much more compliant. I attributed the relief, at least in part, to her increased language development. All of a sudden she was able to really ask for what she wanted. Given that most of what she wanted was valid and easy to comply with, she got it. Why say no when you can say yes, right?
Now, it’s his turn. And wow, is it his turn…! Getting from point A to point B is an ordeal, even if the distance is 5 feet. I have taken to using the stroller more often, as his walking cooperation has deteriorated enormously. He refuses to climb the stairs for nap and sleep, outright refuses. The independent play that I have enjoyed for quite some time now, play that allowed me to accomplish a few home tasks during the day, has been cut significantly. I have to monitor them constantly as fights breaking out are a common occurrence. While I typically try to let my kids police themselves, it’s not entirely possible these days. It doesn’t seem fair to her.
I find this frustrating, very frustrating actually and sometimes it causes me to lose my temper, raise my voice. From my perspective, it’s one more barrier to relaxing with and enjoying the time with my children. It’s not that I want them to go away. What I want is to eliminate the level of struggle. It’s reasonable to have this desire, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. At least not now.
As for my husband, my frustration comes from the inability that we both harbor to truly sit in each other’s seats, see what the other is seeing. When we argue, it inhibits our ability to hang out in our “free time”, cuts into our laughter time and puts up a barrier in our overall communication. I’m not saying that our relationship is in danger; we actually argue shockingly little for a couple with the stress of young twins. But we argue more than I would like and much more than we used to pre-life with children.
Maybe this is what makes us human?
Maybe the fact that we use our mental energy to contemplate this at all means that we aren’t failing as badly as we think.
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