What it is not about

My fourth grade son was going on a field trip. Aside from a bento, the students were allowed to bring about ¥200 (about $2) worth of “snacks,” really, code word for candy and other similar junk food that the kids pounce on (and in pre-pandemic days, exchange with classmates) after finishing their bento. 

A few days before the field trip, my son looked at the snacks we had at home, mostly things that we received here and there, but he wasn’t too keen on any of them. He is the sort of child who does not like chocolate, turns down cake, and is very particular about what he eats. He went with me to the supermarket and picked out three things to bring. 

Photo by Vinicius “amnx” Amano on Unsplash

On the morning of his field trip, as I was busy assembling his bento in the kitchen, I noticed my sixth grade daughter moping and shooting daggers at me and my son. I asked her what was the matter, only half-heartedly ready to listen to her answer.

“ずるい (Zurui). It’s so unfair.”

“What is unfair?,” I asked, dreading the direction of the conversation.

“You bought snacks for his field trip. You never bought snacks for my field trip. You always asked me to pick from whatever we had at home.”

Something in me snapped.

I was irritated, not the least because I was making a bento in addition to the usual morning rush. I offered the quickest solution I could think of. 

“Fine. Come with me to the supermarket tomorrow and pick out three things you want.” That makes it even, I thought in my head.

“No, I don’t want to do that.”

She went on about how the snacks she brought to her field trips were not as good as what her brother was bringing that day, about how her brother has it better. 

I reminded her that I bought her snacks in the past: “Remember the grape gummies you like?” When this did not appease her, I argued with her that she didn’t have a problem bringing whatever snacks we had at home for her field trips. 

“It’s still unfair,” she complained.

“Then just buy what you want tomorrow!”

“No!”

A few minutes before they were about to walk to school, I pulled my son aside. “Do you know why your sister is upset?” I asked. 

“Yes, because she is jealous about my snacks.”

“Right. Now I know that sometimes, the snacks are too much, especially after eating a full lunch. If you have leftovers, it would be nice to share some with your sister.”

My son began to cry. “I’ve been super looking forward to eating all those snacks, now you’re asking me not to eat them….”

“No, no, no! I wasn’t asking you not to eat them. Just maybe to share some with your sister.”

This did not console him. Great. Now instead of one, I have two very unhappy kids.

“You are right,” I said. “That was very unfair of me to ask you to share your snacks with your sister. I’m sorry I asked that. Forget what I said.” He looked slightly mollified.

As soon as the kids left for school, I called my partner and dumped all my anger and vexation on him. I ranted about how my daughter crabbed about the snacks. How was I supposed to keep track of what I buy for who and make sure everything is equal and always the same for all our kids? Is that even possible?

He said with his usual perceptiveness, “I don’t think the issue here is what you bought for who. Obviously, she feels unloved. What is it that makes her feel unloved?”

“How should I know!” I said exasperatingly. “She was perfectly fine with whatever snacks she brought before until this morning when she saw the snacks her brother had!” And I continued to rant about sibling rivalry and the impossibility of doing it right.

He said, “Did what she say make you feel like a bad mommy?”

Now that struck a chord. I reacted to my daughter in defensiveness because I heard what she said as an attack to me as a mother when all she probably needed was someone to listen to her feelings, validate them. My partner reminded me that our daughter can be very good at seeing things differently when she is in a good space. 

Later that afternoon, when she came home from school and sat down beside me, I asked if it was a good time to talk about what happened this morning.

“Yes…” she proceeded cautiously.

“I want to apologize for reacting this morning. When you shared your feelings about how unfair it was that I bought your brother the snacks, this is what I heard: ‘You are a bad mommy.’” And I did the quotation marks with my hands to emphasize that it was something I heard in my head.

“No, no, that is not my meaning,” she said.

“I know that, Honey. That is clear to me now. But this morning, that is what I heard and it made me react in an unhelpful way. I know I will not be able to make things equal and the same for all three of you. All of you grow up at different times, you have different needs, and our family has different resources at each time. I am changing too and I do things differently for each of you.”

Before I could continue, she interrupted me, “Yes, like I got to go to America all by myself.  That was something only I did.”

“Yes, exactly, so maybe your brothers might look at that and say to me, ずるい (Zurui). It’s so unfair. But for me to try to make things equal and the same for all three of you is a game that I will never win. It is impossible. But that doesn’t make me a bad mommy.”

She interrupted me again, “No, no, it is my fault Mommy. I should not have complained about the snacks.”

I stopped her, “No, I want you to be able to complain about it and share your feelings. It is normal to feel jealous when someone seems to have it better. I want you to be able to do that and me not hear it as ‘I am a bad mommy.’ My reaction is my problem. You should have a safe space to be able to express how you feel.”

She nodded sagely to this.

“But also maybe it would be good to think about what your Auntie Frannie said, that the quickest path to unhappiness is to compare yourself with others.”

She seized on this, “Yes, because there will always be others who have it better than me and there will always be others who have it less than me.”

I knew that she was going to be alright, we were going to be alright. 

Often, a grumbling about fairness isn’t an accounting matter.