There are several situations that may arise, particularly around other people’s children, which cause friction – or mortal combat – in even the most pacifistic among us.
As one who spends a sizable chunk of the summer at the family beach house with fourteen nieces and nephews and a steady stream of guests in and out for the duration of the season, now seemed a good time to share a six-pack of strategies for peaceful togetherness.
Train kids and dogs. Take care of them. Provide them with more than cursory surveillance. When both sets of species resort to foraging in cabinets at mealtimes and strewing trash, wet towels, banana peels, candy wrappers and other forms of waste on the floor, take notice and take action. Or better yet, don’t let it get that far before you offer some care and feeding.
Share. This means the workload, the goods and the costs. Writing your name on the Cheerios box is not a great way to cultivate a congenial atmosphere. Taking turns providing meals is. This doesn’t mean that every single person has to chop the equivalent number of onions. It means that everyone pulls some weight. Call me a Marxist, but I’m a proponent of “each according to his ability and each according to his needs.” To a point.
Just because you excel at reclining on the couch and hoisting Coors Light cans doesn’t make that your contribution.
- Buy the groceries.
- Walk the dog.
- Take out the trash.
- Cook breakfast.
- Swap babysitting shifts so adults can have a date night/girls’ night/guys’ night out.
- Do the dishes.
- Organize a family soccer game or shell hunt on the beach.
- Take the kids mini golfing.
- Lead the charge at putting kids to bed.
It doesn’t really matter what it is, but be sure to do something that makes the day run more smoothly.
When the other people’s kids inevitably do something that violates your parenting rules, consider your response carefully.
- “Johnny ate a candy bar before dinner. Why can’t I have one?”
- “I don’t want to go to bed now. My cousins don’t have a bedtime ever.”
- “If Susie doesn’t have to eat vegetables I won’t either.”
- “I hate sunscreen and hats. Aunt Jane never makes her kids wear them.”
Tempting though it is to say:
- “That’s why Johnny has 17 cavities. Do you like the dentist’s drill?”
- “That’s why your cousins can’t sustain the attention sufficient to dress themselves.”
- “Susie buys her clothes in the ‘chubby’ section. Do you like her wardrobe?”
- “Aunt Jane obviously doesn’t care if her children die of melanoma, but I do.”
Don’t. Take a deep breath and say, “Different families have different rules.” (And carefully consider your guest list for next summer.)
Keep your parenting opinions to yourself. No one ever wants to hear criticism of his or her children, no matter how sociopathic they are. If they ask you specifically, “How did Damien behave at lunch today?” answer factually, but with no editorial commentary.
Say: “Well, since you asked… he told me that he hated quesadillas, spit chocolate milk at his sister, and hid his broccoli under the chair. He didn’t eat much.”
Don’t say: “The ungrateful little troll refused to eat the balanced, wholesome meal that I had generously and lovingly prepared for him, revealed the 666 imprint on his head when he leaned down to throw his vegetables on the floor, and showed his forked tongue when he spat milk across the table.”
Relax. Remember, you’re on vacation.
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