It’s the last exam and we have no intention to get it over with.
I have given him, my nine year old, time to finish going through the chapter.
I didn’t care to check on him. I have work stuff on my mind.
We sit down and nothing I ask him gives me the response I want.
The words are his, the statements are incomplete. I am not happy.
His cheekiness is not helping. And his nonstop chatter!
I am beginning to get pissed…
Dot Matrix printer is not making an impression. Sheet fed is becoming paper-fed.
Is it hunger or his arrogance or his defiance, everything he is doing is riling me up.
Then there is a baby asking to become a part of the conversation too.
Some yelling, some threats, nothing working.
I am frustrated. I end up swinging the charger’s cable which is right next to me at him.
It misses. I am thankful.
I realise we need to stop quickly.
He is designed to drive me nuts.
Designed to make me fail at every parenting promise I make.
Nothing I ask him to do gets done.
Making deals with him is like negotiating with a terrorist.
Every sentence starts with “But…” “You never…” “Fine, I won’t”
Anger and tears pop out with no warning or reason…
I want to strangle him or shoot myself.
I can do neither.
Dad kept us in check when we were young. Partly, a sense of fear. Partly some sense of “but you can’t do that to say that.”
How do I keep my kids in check…they have no fear and no sense of “Why not”?
Plus they are becoming reflectors of us.
It is like looking at the mirror, only you can see the worst bits of yourself.
I couldn’t, I can’t handle NO.
Neither can he.
I knew to shut up and work around it.
He is yet to learn that skill.
Parenting is a slow uphill climb, as painful as you can imagine it.
And the worst bit is that if takes an hour to climb a distance, it takes only one slip and one-tenth the time to slide back down.
But then you have to get up, brush off, and start right back. This time hopefully, you will try and get a better footing or choose a better route.
I have given him, my nine year old, time to finish going through the chapter.
I didn’t care to check on him. I have work stuff on my mind.
We sit down and nothing I ask him gives me the response I want.
The words are his, the statements are incomplete. I am not happy.
His cheekiness is not helping. And his nonstop chatter!
I am beginning to get pissed…
Dot Matrix printer is not making an impression. Sheet fed is becoming paper-fed.
Is it hunger or his arrogance or his defiance, everything he is doing is riling me up.
Then there is a baby asking to become a part of the conversation too.
Some yelling, some threats, nothing working.
I am frustrated. I end up swinging the charger’s cable which is right next to me at him.
It misses. I am thankful.
I realise we need to stop quickly.
He is designed to drive me nuts.
Designed to make me fail at every parenting promise I make.
Nothing I ask him to do gets done.
Making deals with him is like negotiating with a terrorist.
Every sentence starts with “But…” “You never…” “Fine, I won’t”
Anger and tears pop out with no warning or reason…
I want to strangle him or shoot myself.
I can do neither.
Dad kept us in check when we were young. Partly, a sense of fear. Partly some sense of “but you can’t do that to say that.”
How do I keep my kids in check…they have no fear and no sense of “Why not”?
Plus they are becoming reflectors of us.
It is like looking at the mirror, only you can see the worst bits of yourself.
I couldn’t, I can’t handle NO.
Neither can he.
I knew to shut up and work around it.
He is yet to learn that skill.
Parenting is a slow uphill climb, as painful as you can imagine it.
And the worst bit is that if takes an hour to climb a distance, it takes only one slip and one-tenth the time to slide back down.
But then you have to get up, brush off, and start right back. This time hopefully, you will try and get a better footing or choose a better route.
