Backseat Parenting

4yo: “Riley, if you go pee on the potty, you can have a special treat.”

2yo: “ ’Pecial teat!”

Me: “Miles! You are not his parent; *I* am. He just brushed his teeth and no one’s getting any more treats tonight, got it?”

You might see him as an encouraging big-brother. But I see a preschooler on a power trip. I have to remind my 4yo DAILY that he is not the one who makes the rules and calls the shots – especially for his little brother.

Every time I turn my back Miles is promising Riley treats and snacks, "helping" him open presents, and trying to bribe him into trading his best toys. He’ll even threaten, “Riley, stop bothering me or you’re going to bed early!” Wishful thinking.

I’ve heard other moms complain that their kids try to parent their siblings, too. Even funnier is when the LITTLE ones do it to the BIG ones. A friend’s 2yo was sternly lecturing her older brother, “No cookies! Mama said no.” Just what he needs, another mom.

Of course, I have to admit having a Mommy’s Little Helper DOES occasionally pay off. Like when I was getting ready the other morning and I heard Big Bro say to Little Bro: “Don’t throw your toys on the floor, Riley. Gram and Grandpa are coming today and we want to keep the house clean.” Wonder where he heard THAT?

And if I’m being honest, an extra little parent is quite helpful when it comes to that most odious of parenting tasks – potty training. Bribery with treats notwithstanding, my 4yo is quite an effective bathroom coach to his little brother. Not only do they have the same anatomy, but it was not so long ago that the older one was learning the drill himself.

However, Miles is what you might call an experimental educator. Some of his questionable toilet-training “techniques” include tickling his little brother on the potty. You know, to make him laugh so hard he’ll …? You get the idea. I can’t say it’s actually worked yet, but I give my eldest son props for trying. Funny, though. He has no interest in being the parent when it comes time to change his little brother’s diaper. Believe me, I’ve tried.

Baby No. 2 is No. 1 for a Day

My second-born child, Riley, does not get a lot of one-on-one time. Whether we’re reading books before bed or cuddling on the couch, his big brother, Miles, is usually right in the middle of the action. Even when I was nursing (ESPECIALLY when I was nursing), Miles would manage to insert himself into things. Poor Riley doesn’t even get to bathe by himself.

Honestly, this hasn’t concerned me much. After all, Riley doesn’t know any different. That’s the way it’s been since the day he was born. And he doesn’t seem to mind. His big brother is one of his 3 favorite people in the world. (The other 2 change depending on whose plate he’s trying to mooch off of.)

I’ve been much more concerned about my first-born feeling displaced or left out since the baby arrived, so I’ve gone overboard trying to make sure Miles has plenty of Mom-and-me time. Like the day I took him out for a special birthday breakfast. Except he pouted, refused to eat his pancakes, and said, “I wish Riley was here. It would be more funner.” So much for that.

But last week Riley and I went on our own little adventure, just the 2 of us. A friend from college was throwing a birthday party for her 1-year-old daughter, whom I’d never met. The chance to see my friend, meet her baby, AND buy some cute girl clothes? Done!

The only catch was that C. and Miles couldn't go and the party was a 1.5-hour drive away. The thought of spending 3+ hours alone in the car with Riley was daunting. And by "daunting" I mean that a combination root canal and bikini wax was more appealing. This child can scream loud enough to be heard in the next Zip code, and I would be contained inside a small metal box with him?!

I started preparing days in advance. I packed his CDs, books, snacks, drinks, and a special bag full of “car toys.” (Ones that didn’t make obnoxious noises or require parental assistance.) I mapped out our route, and an alternate route. I got a good night’s sleep and fueled up with a nutritious breakfast. Like I was preparing to go off to war. And then, we were off.

A few minutes into the trip, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Riley was sitting quietly in his carseat, gazing out the window. Occasionally he’d point out a truck (“cuck!”) or a bus. This continued for miles. I braced myself for the screaming and whining, but they never came. Even when we hit traffic and barely moved for 5 miles. And when we got to the party, he let me hold him and introduce him to strangers. He played, he ate cake, he let me change his diaper on a picnic table -- with no drama, no struggles, no meltdowns.

Who WAS this child?! If you know anything about Riley from this blog, you know that he is not a calm, quiet, easy-going baby. He’s the complete OPPOSITE. He can shatter glass with a single scream. Goes from zero to tantrum in 2 seconds. Destroys household items with his bare hands.

Except on this day. This remarkable, unprecedented day when he was on his own. No big brother to antagonize him. No dad to divide his attention. No one to fight with for toys or food. Only Riley and Mommy, together. Just the 2 of us.

READ O’ THE WEEK: For you writers out there, “A working mother's guide to writing a novel.” So it CAN be done…

Brother Bother

Bringing home a new baby 8 mos. ago was a huge adjustment, I'm not gonna lie. Especially for our first-born, who for almost 3 years had enjoyed a nice run as an only child and The Center of the Universe. In our house, anyway.

Miles' feelings for his little brother have run the gamut from curiosity to amusement to love to annoyance. I hesitate to say "hate," because it's never gotten quite THAT bad. This video perhaps best illustrates my sons' relationship:


Since Miles has to put up with a screetching sidekick most of the time, it's no surprise that on the few occasions he gets an outing -- or a parent -- to himself, he's over the moon. Read more about our recent mother-son bonding at TheBump.com:

Oh, Brother!

Somehow, I got lulled into a false sense of security. Maybe because I’m a second-time mom? Maybe because we confidently left the hospital a day early, convinced we knew the drill? Maybe because baby Riley seemed so laid back those first few days? Why, there was one day last week when I managed to shower, nap, cook dinner, and update my blog ALL IN THE SAME DAY. Yeah, well...

Let’s just say we’ve taken one step forward and 2 or 3 steps back. The grandparents have gone home, the pre-made meals are almost all eaten, the formerly chill baby has become nocturnal, and the novelty of being a big brother has started to wear off for Miles.

At first, this big brother gig was better than Christmas. Most of the gifts arriving at our house are not for the baby, but for Miles. Fair enough; he’s the one old enough to notice. He’s now added to his fleet of toys a safari boat, a remote-control construction truck, and an enormous battery-powered space shuttle complete with a bazillion separate parts and action figures. Thanks, Dad.

Miles’ reaction when he visited me and the baby in the hospital was adorable. My mom brought him in, proudly sporting his “I’m a Big Brother” T-shirt. His eyes open wide with wonder, he made a beeline for the bassinet, pulled up a chair, and climbed up to peer in at his new baby brother. “He’s so tiny!” Miles said. Then he proceeded to try to pry open the baby’s eyes and mouth to see what color his eyes were and whether he had any teeth.

Once we got home, things went pretty smoothly. First, because my mom devoted all her attention to Miles, so he barely even noticed the baby was getting most of mine. And of course, all the new toys helped keep him busy. Second, Miles is (thankfully) a heavy sleeper, so he wasn’t disturbed by the baby’s cries at night or during naps.

So far, Miles’ interactions with his little brother mainly involve him coming over to the bouncy seat or bassinet and cooing, “He’s so cuuuute!” and attempting to kiss or hug the baby. I try in vain to explain that crushing an 8 lb. newborn with one’s entire body weight is perhaps not the best way to show affection. But hey, it’s better than hitting the baby over the head with a truck, right?

Also, Miles likes to show his little brother his toys. And by “show,” I mean he sticks the toy half an inch away from the baby’s eyeball. “Miles, Miles! Back up, buddy. Give Riley some space,” I tell him. He likes to watch me change Riley’s diaper, but doesn’t like it when the baby cries. More than once, I’ve turned around to grab a wipe and found Miles holding his hand over the baby’s mouth. “Miles!! You can’t do that!” I shout. “But I just want him to stop crying,” he explains, all wide-eyed and innocent.

Miles does seem proud of his new big brother title, though. He often tells people, a propos nothing, “I have a new baby. I’m a big brother.” (Which he pronounces “bruh-zher.”) One morning, my mom asked him whether he’d like a big muffin or a mini muffin for breakfast. “I want a big muffin. I’m a big brother!” he announced. Of course.

I sense Miles’ patience is wearing thin, though, especially now that his devoted admirers (aka grandparents) have gone home. In his defense, it IS hard for me to do everything I used to with him now that I have a baby attached to me nearly 24/7. It’s hard to kick a soccer ball/play hide & seek/read to him in the rocking chair now that another little guy is sharing my time, attention, and lap.

Not to mention the fact that the baby tricked us into thinking he was a mellow, laid-back fellow, only to start the 2 a.m. fussing a few days in. So while Miles wakes up bright-eyed and full of energy each morning, Mom and Dad are stumbling around sleep-walking. But as our pediatrician and all those “Party in my crib: 3 a.m.” onesies will attest, this is the norm for newborns.

It’s an adjustment, people. That’s for sure. We have our good days (like the one I described above), and our bad days (like when I yelled at Miles for climbing in the baby’s Moses basket and both of us burst into tears.) But the hormones are leveling off, everyone’s healthy, and we’ve got lots of friends and family to lean on for support. Really, what more could a new mom ask for? (Besides a nap, obviously!)