Four. Is. Hard.
We are struggling a bit with this age. Our house lately is a constant battleground of wills. I thought the terrible twos would be hard…but this is way harder. In fact I think this is the hardest age we have come across so far. Old enough to know better…but still little enough to need a lot of direction (and old enough to know exactly how to push it **just** far enough).
I was browsing a local bookstore the other day and came across a book with the title “Talk to me like I’m someone you love” or something like that. It actually made me tear up a bit. Do I always talk to Coen that way or do I let the frustration that has built up in me during the day spill over? Some nights I cringe when the kids are in bed and I look back to certain parts of the day…how I spoke…what I did (or didn’t do). I don’t think I am a perfectionist…but when it comes to raising my kids, yeah, I’m pretty hard on myself (as I’m sure most parents are).
And so Dave and I have long talks and read the internet and lament about if we are doing all the things we can to bring up two well-adjusted little boys. All I ask is that at the end of the day (and middle and beginning!)…that they feel loved.
I wonder if there is a zen meditation book for parents out there? hmmmmm.