Playing

I admit that I’m not any good at playing with Lorelei. I also admit that it is extremely frustrating and makes me feel like a failure.

Here’s my main problem: she doesn’t seem to want to play with me. She likes to play near me. Or she likes to use my body as part of her playing – my thighs make excellent race tracks, apparently. I’ve tried to be more active in her block stacking or in her “cooking,” but she will yell if she doesn’t like what I’m doing. For example, her round blocks are not for stacking they are for pretending to drink from.

So, what am I to do? I make an effort to be in the same room with her and to pay attention when she chatters at me, but I find myself on the computer or reading a book in the rocking chair more often than not. Am I ignoring her? It’s the question that I keep asking myself over and over. I don’t think I’m ignoring her but I can’t help but think that I am. My mind runs around the same path over and over.

Does it get better? When? Is it when she becomes more (coherently) vocal? How do I keep from being bored while at the same time not feel like I’m ignoring my child? And most importantly, how do I keep her from being bored?

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About Kirsten

Wife, mother, writer and all around knerd. Maker of cookies, scarves and really big messes.

Posted on November 2, 2011, in Musings and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. I suck at playing WITH my kids. You will not find me playing Little People Go On A Campout With a Fire Truck and Princess Carriage; I don’t make edible Play-Doh; and I sure as crap don’t sing songs while making clothes for paper dolls. I am the one that is near the kids while they play; chatting it up with them. I am the one that makes the day flow by keeping the schedule; making the food; and keeping everyone alive and happy.

    I use to feel bad about this. Most of my mom friends are the opposite. I no longer feel bad. My daughter, from an early age, has been able to entertain herself without pitching a fit; she has an incredible imagination. My son, while only 16 months old, has learned that Mommy isn’t always going to hold him, be a human trampoline or the victim of him jabbing fingers in my eyes or noseholes. He, too, is learning to become independent. I feel this is HUGELY important. I may be a Mom but, I’m also a wife; a daughter; a friend. I have a job outside of my home and other responsibilities. Their independence means I can shower without one of them IN there with me or screaming at the bathroom door. It means I can take 15 minutes and talk to my Mom without my son screeching in my face the whole time.

    It took me several years to stop beating myself up over this. My husband is the opposite and is ALWAYS on the floor with the kids. They are happy, loved, cared for, fantastic children. Clearly not suffering because I don’t play WITH them all the time. I am there. I am with them. That is what counts.

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