On dishwashing and parenting
Last night, as I was washing the dishes, I was observing our two kids fight. Miguel, our 7-year-old, started throwing something towards the direction of RyRy, our 12-year-old. I couldn’t really focus on what’s going on as I needed to make sure the plates and utensils are clean lest hear an unnecessarily lengthy sermon from my lovely wife.
“Stop hurting your sister,” is what came out of my mouth, and loud. Sometimes we parents blurt out what’s convenient—what’s going to let us get back to what we were doing—without thinking things through. I know I do this a lot but lately I’ve started to become more mindful especially of how our choice of words affect our children.
I remember tweeting something to the tune of this in 2020. “[Most] frustration when dealing with kids stem from the fact that we adults cannot be patient. [We’d] rather tell them what to do or do things for them for the sake of our own convenience.” is what my brainfart resulted to. So, yes, I am aware of this but awareness is worlds apart from actually practicing it.
So last night, after uttering that incoherent command, some other words started to form in my head. “If you don’t stop that, I’m going to take away your phone.” “Fight back!” “Separate, you two.” “You’re grounded.” That last bit almost comical as we’re back to being holed up in our houses due to the rising cases of COVID-19 in Manila.
The great thing about dishwashing is that it’s calming, well, at least for me. It’s my way of forcing a flow state in my day. Goal is clear: clean the dishes. Feedback is immediate: soaping, rinsing, putting them on the rack and seeing the amount of dirty dishes dwindle. Activity isn’t easy but also not impossible: three words, greasy microwaveable containers.
Going back, I told myself I’ll just wait it out and see what happens. After all, I was enjoying what I was doing (please don’t tell my wife) and halfway through soaping all the dishes. I do my dishwashing in 3 steps: soak, soap, rinse. If we had greasy food for dinner, I add a step of pouring hot water in there. I know I’m getting old when all I want is a kitchen faucet that dispenses hot water.
Okay, going back again. RyRy already went upstairs which leaves both myself and Miguel at the first floor, in the kitchen and in the living room respectively. I was about to utter something but I held it in last minute and just watched our 7-year-old gather himself and pick up a marker and a piece of paper. By now I was just rinsing the dishes—by far the easiest among the three steps—and so I could afford to multitask at this point.
In my mind, I was thinking “he’s going to write a hate letter.” I’ve seen many of these things before to at least have this judgment pass as valid. He started writing from a distance so I really couldn’t see nor make out the words. These soaped up dishes aren’t going to rinse themselves, I say to myself.
But then he moved closer to my direction. This time, I thought, he’s probably going to ask me to read his letter. But alas, he went on and spoke—almost to himself—saying, “Alexa, what’s the spelling of ‘sorry?’”
He was composing a letter to say sorry to his sister.
My heart melted just like the grease that was on the plate I was now rinsing squeaky clean.
Here I was thinking nothing good could come out of what happened and that this cycle of him hurting his older sister when things don’t go his way will just continue and yet here he was, realizing his mistake and doing his best (with the help of Alexa) to make amends.
And immediately I thought of writing about it so that I will always remember to practice what I preach—or in this case, tweet. But also, so that other parents would try to be more patient with their kids and trusting they will make good choices on their own. But more importantly, to share that there isn’t anything wrong with men washing the dishes and that dishwashing can be fun if you do it with the right attitude.
I’m not sure how it came to this but I hope that you picked up a lesson or two reading it—be it one of parenting or being a team player at home. At the end of the day, our kids, if we raise them right, will make good choices left to their own devices. Grease will always easily come out with hot water and undiluted dishwashing liquid—except when it’s spaghetti sauce on a microwaveable container. Unlike our kids, those things are hopeless and belong in a trash bin.
