Pancakes

I love pancakes! They are yummy, comforting, fun to make and yummy. I prefer fluffy, golden pancakes, but I am not too picky. I am suspicious of the perfectly round pancakes, I like some imperfections.

For a little over ten years, my husband and I have called our first child our first pancake. He has been our trial child, the one we have practiced on, the kid who has taught us how to parent. And, like a first pancake, we have learned the basics. Add too much water to the batter, or too much hovering in his daily life, and things get thin. The pancakes, our patience, his independence. Add too little water, or let him run wild without boundaries, and there are lumps, lots and lots of lumps.

Then there are the expectations. In our minds, we can visualize what that first pancake will look like, how it will turn out. Metaphor much, pancake?!? And then, it doesn’t. It has emotional issues and learning problems that take years to figure out, come to terms with, learn to appreciate. It rarely wants to play outside, style it’s hair, wake up for school. But, we can’t give up, we love that first pancake!

Our two oldest sons are five and a half years apart. If you believe in the “science” of birth order, that means we have two first pancakes. This has been a bit of a blessing. We learned enough from our first first pancake that our second has been easier.  The benefit has been that we have a better idea of the best way to cook these young humans: how much guidance, encouragement, discipline they need to turn out decently. Do we make  mistakes? Often, however, we are more comfortable with the recipe and can spot mistakes pretty quickly.

Since we have learned so much about these first pancakes, I have noticed that my third pancake, my third son, is getting less of me. I really made the mental connection the last few times I was actually making pancakes. (The irony was not lost on me.) I have gotten pretty good at making the batter the way I like it. I usually make pancakes one and two at the same time. I watch them closely enough, not too much, not too little. I see exactly when to flip them, when they bubble on top, and can tell when they should be taken off. Then pancake three is up. I think I have started to get cocky. I will step away to switch laundry, help with homework, check Facebook. I don’t burn the pancake, but it’s not the way I like it. Then the timing to flip it is off. I ignored my third pancake! This hit me hard.

Number three has  middle child syndrome, for sure. When he asks for something, he often gets the, “In a minute” response. The two older boys, despite their age difference from each other, will exclude him from inside jokes or dismiss his ideas. Frustration often rings through when they say his name. We are quicker to blame him for messes, crying, and the like. Through recognizing how I was treating my third pancake, I realized how my third child was being treated. I have become confident in my parenting enough that I have stepped away for too long. I  became complacent. While he has benefited from my batter making skills, he isn’t getting the attention the other two have gotten. I feel lucky that my kids like breakfast for dinner, otherwise I might not have realized that my third pancake needs more from me.

My fourth child, my daughter, is not a pancake. She is a crepe. She looks a lot like a pancake, but she’s not. I have no idea how to make crepes. So, it looks like I am starting from scratch. Wish me luck!