Category Archives: parenting

Family dynamics

My husband, kids and I have been home for Christmas vacation. Husband and kids are having a grand old-time but I am busy cleaning, organizing, doing laundry and keeping the kitchen up. To my kids credit they helped clean their closet yesterday (because I forced them to). There is some pride in getting that nasty job done; but last night I was pissed off that I was not enjoying the same vacation as my husband. I expressed my displeasure a few times and each time my kids and husband say, “Don’t do it.” That’s easy for them to say. If I don’t do it everything will pile up for me to do later. I have ignored the kitchen for 24 hours and the counters are piled with dirty dishes because the dishwasher is full and someone needs to empty it. The roaster pan from Christmas still sits on the stove top, waiting to be cleaned. It’s been there for 4 days. (During this writing I hear the sounds of my husband cleaning the kitchen and making the kids pancakes).

Last night I was angry enough that I wanted to run away. This coping mechanism is totally a mental escape that allows me to not feel trapped. I learned it as a young girl who suffered in silence with the shame of incest. Maybe getting older is not such a good thing because I realize I can’t simply “run away.” I have a house, husband and kids.

So I did the second best thing I know to cope with a shitty situation. I opened a bottle of beer and then had a couple of glasses of wine. I went to bed at 8:30 pm just to get away from everyone. The alcohol worked by easing my anxiety/anger but I wondered why I’m afraid to demand my needs get met. What would happen if I told my husband to help me instead of what he does, which, when he is not working, is hobbies or sitting in the recliner and watching TV.

Earlier in the day I tried to express myself in a non-confrontational way. I asked my husband, “Will you do me a favor?” His answer was an immediate “No.” I responded, “Why would you answer that way?” He laughed and said, “Because it’s the way you ask it.”

I’m not even going to go into the conversation because it triggers a sense of helplessness. I really should address this issue in therapy. Well, I have and Lynn tells me to make lists but I can’t get my husband to do anything on my lists. That would be a topic for therapy.

I am writing on a new laptop I received for Christmas. My husband surprised me with the gift even though we had agreed not to spend money on each other. I know that was sweet of him and I shouldn’t be so angry. He knows a lot more about computers so he spent hours on Christmas day installing Microsoft Office 10, updates and virus protection. When he transferred all of my files from the old laptop, I became nervous that he would open one of my blog posts that are kept in a folder called “Weblog.” He passed right over the specifics and I worried for nothing.

I had to enter a password for access to my new computer and so I typed it in without showing my husband. It asked for a hint in the event I forget so I wrote “flower.” Husband needed to get into my computer so he asked for the password. I said, “It’s a flower.” The children guessed sunflower and Mayflower (that’s my younger one who was thinking of the pilgrim’s voyage to America). Husband guessed daylily, typed it in and got immediate access. “How did you know that?” I asked. His answer, “You told me you had a handle by that name on some website.”

I felt a wall of self-protection go up. Oh crap, what if he has been to my blog? Quick, think, do I say bad things about him? I wondered, Is he the one who visited the day I had one visitor read almost all my posts. I quickly decided he hasn’t been to my blog because he really doesn’t have an interest in what I write. He’s never liked my ramblings on paper and the times he has suffered through listening to me express things similar to what I write about he looks bored. He spent all day on my computer and I know he didn’t read my documents. Emotional stuff is boring. I know this about him.  (I changed my password anyway).

Tomorrow we are traveling to visit my mother and step-dad. They are both 78 years old and live a few hours away by car. We have a reservation at a hotel and will hang out with them most of the time. I look forward to the break from all the things I do around my house. My mom lives in a retirement home and wants to show us off to all her friends in the dining room. She also said her place needs a snowman out front. This is how my mother is. She likes to show others she has the perfect family and so I will play along. I do love her and I like to make her happy. So, I’m bringing along a scarf, hat, carrot nose and my kids snow gear (We haven’t thought of what the eyes and mouth will be yet). My boys will be instructed to build a snowman and just as I was the dutiful daughter so shall my children be the dutiful grandsons. I know I sound sarcastic but all kidding aside; I want my boys to make Grandma happy. I am bringing my Sony Handycam to get some video. Life is short and she is getting older. I want to have video to look back on as a way of remembering my mom.

We’ll see my oldest brother, who was the perpetrator of sexual abuse upon my prepubescent body. Ironically, he has always been my mother’s favorite. I feel slightly sickened by the reality of such facts but otherwise I’ve forgiven and moved on with my life. My brother has admitted his mistakes (been counseled by his pastor) and we have made amends. It took years of therapy but I no longer think of what he did to me when I was a young girl. My boys like to see their uncle and all of this will make my mom happy.

I have been open about the sexual abuse within my family (with my siblings, not with my children) but my step dad has never been told. I sometimes have the desire to disclose this family secret because he has been part of the family for over 10 years. I love him for the wonderful grandfather he’s been to my kids. He is also so good to me and my husband. What would it serve for me to share this? I wonder why I want to. If my mother hasn’t told him would it be wrong for me?

œDaylily

My son tells me he wants to die

My husband and our youngest son got into a huge disagreement the other day. Okay, it was an all-out fight, without the punches but enough anger, emotions and testosterone to clear the room. Son had a friend over (play date), who went outside and shot baskets with my older son – both left the house to get away from the situation unfolding.

I’m not proud to say I was upstairs in my bed, trying to sleep. (The whole thing is probably my fault for not supervising). The time was about 3 pm and H works from home. He heard Son banging around and it disturbed H’s conference call. H is pretty much on the phone all day and his home office is right above our boy’s bedroom so when the kids get into a wrestling match, H can hear it all.

I can only Imagine the scene, H comes storming up the stairs from the basement. H starts telling Son to quiet down or he will turn off the Xbox. Son challenges him and H again threatens to shut down the Xbox. Son (11 years old, 5’9″ and 200 lbs) talks back and pushes H (who is 250 lbs) and more than 4 times older.

I hear yelling and crying from my room and it doesn’t sound like your typical sibling rivalry, so I get out of bed. From the top of the staircase, I see my 11-year-old “baby” down on the floor, crying and sobbing. He is repeating, “I don’t want to go to jail. Don’t call the police.” He sounds scared to death!

When I get downstairs, my husband is shaking with anger and it’s taking all he has not to beat-the-shit out of Son. H has never hurt the children but now that Son is so big the threat is there.

I look at H and say, “We don’t need the police involved in this. Look at me. I can help you.” H peers into my face with rage. I don’t back down, instead I offer him a solution. “Just walk away.”

What I’m thinking is Holy crap, I work in this town and if our name is in the local newspaper’s police log that will be the end of my good reputation.  Thank goodness, H walks away.

Within H’s earshot I tell son, “You can’t talk back to Daddy. If you disrespect him he gets angry. You cannot disrespect your parents.” I add this because Son’s behavior is just as bad with me. I completely understand how my husband hit his boiling point. This kid of ours is in puberty and is constantly talking back, being a wise-ass and challenging us. I sympathize with H and I feel supportive but I also feel glad he didn’t physical harm our youngest child.  He’s letting me handle it.

H begins to gather up Son’s Xbox system – everything from the box to games to controllers and wires. He threatens to get rid of all of it. (I’ve been around this behavior enough to know he’s reactive and will soften over time.) When the children were little he would take away whatever they loved most. I don’t agree with it but I accept that he gets emotional and reacts impulsively. I quietly tell the kids, “Daddy’s just mad right now; he’ll give it back to you.” Now, I think the kids even know his bark is worse than his bite!

Well, poor Son is sobbing because he’s fearful of being taken away to jail. My instincts are to hold him and reassure him that’s not going to happen but instead, I back up H. This boy of ours needs a reality-check because he is often out-of-control. I check with the other son and Son’s friend who are playing basketball. I make sure they are okay. Then, about 5 minutes go by and Son is in convulsive sobbing fits. He can’t stop.

I try to talk to him and he pushes me away. I say, “Mommy loves you and I would never let Daddy send you to jail.” I reassure him he would not go to jail. I rationalize the situation with him (oh crap, that’s what my parents did.) “Son, the police don’t put children in jail. They protect children. If the police come it would be to make sure Daddy doesn’t hurt you and that you are safe.”

I love my husband for not physically hurting my son. How many guys use their bravado in order to prove themselves to their boys whose testosterone is out of control due to puberty.

The reassurance and love from his mom causes Son to cry differently. For only my ears to hear, he says, “I want to die.” He’s as low as you can get and expresses his despair with words I’ve never, ever heard him utter. “I want to kill myself. I want to die.”

I freak out! This is from my easy-going son who has a lot of friends, who’s funny and usually cheerful. I have never worried that he has my sensitive gene because he has an outgoing personality. I sincerely believe what’s going on is all hormonal and I tell my husband that later.

My maternal instincts kick-in and I offer Son everything I think he needs to hear. “Daddy loves you. You are not going to jail. Children do not go to jail. I would not let you go to jail.”

I convince son to get up and come to the living room couch with me. I feel scared that this boy that I carried for 9 months and brought into this world wants his life to end. I hold him with his back to me and rub him gently, telling him it’s okay to be angry and sad. “You had a scary fight with your dad but I love you and will always protect you.” I hold and offer physical reassurance until the uncontrollable gulping of air from too much crying ceases.

After awhile, my oldest boy and Son’s friend comes inside and I suggest they play a board game. My son, the 11-year-old that I recognize, says to his friend, “Do you want to play Sorry?” The friend, who is known for his own emotional outbursts, says, “Okay.” And the boys commence to playing and move toward putting the entire negative event behind them.

The kids moved on quicker than I did. I have difficulty forgetting my son’s words, “I want to die.” I worry he is developing depression, just like me, his mom. I begin thinking about whether he needs a therapist. Is he depressed?

I get online and Google the subject of adolescence and suicidal ideation. I read numerous first-hand experiences from mom’s that reassure me some children use the threat frequently as a cry for help and don’t act on it. I pray to God that is what my son is doing. Maybe it’s a good thing that he expressed himself because now I know there’s a lot of meaning behind his anger.

The next day, I nonchalantly say to Son, while we are driving in the car, “Do you remember when you said I want to die.”

Son says, “Yea, but I don’t feel that way anymore.”

I quietly take a huge sigh of relief and respond, “When you do feel that sad and angry you can come to me and I will hold you.” That’s the end of the conversation. Deep down he likes to snuggle and I hope I can keep him close to me through these tough years by offering physical affection. (He would like me to rub his back and fall asleep with him every night!)

About 7 days later the Xbox returned to its spot – only to have me take it away for Son’s misbehavior. But, it’s back again.

The moral – it’s tough being a parent. No one gives you a guidebook for every occasion. As parents, we do the best we can and hope our kids don’t hate us or themselves later.  ♥ Daylily