parenting

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Jagged

This is one of those nights where I wish I could somehow share more about what was going on without violating anyone’s privacy.

My son and I had a huge argument tonight, because he made a mistake, and because I feel like he will keep making the same mistake again and again. I want to believe him when he says “I won’t do it again,” but history has shown this isn’t the case. History has shown he will say whatever he feels he must in order to get what he wants.

So now I’m at the point of: Do I believe the words, or do I go by what I have seen in the past?

There is no right answer. I fucking HATE being lied to. And I feel like he will say anything to avoid responsibility, to avoid a consequence. I hate resorting to punitive measures, but he simply is not responding to anything else. Am I making a bad situation worse? Am I just coping? Am I taking my own frustrations out on my kid?

God damn I wish I had the answer to these, and other, questions.

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Oh, look, a ton of bricks

Well, this week / month / year is turning into a new and exciting chapter of “Parenting is Fucking Hard.”

I’d say more, but I really can’t, trying to respect some privacy and boundaries (i know, I know, quit laughing). I think I need to stew in my own private hell for a bit. I’ll try and come up with something light and fluffy for later.

Cheers.

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silly old yeller

I was going along, minding my own business, and I read a post over at Interstellar Adventures that certainly made me stop and think.

No, I’m not like the guy in her post, but I do have a, shall we say, quick temper. This wasn’t always the case, but it is nowadays.

I get short tempered with the kids. I yell at cars that act like Idiots (or Maniacs, see Carlin, George). Sometimes I yell at the TV. I’m very quick to say “no” to a request, and also can be quick to judge a situation. And I wonder why my kids yell at each other?

One night (day?) recently, I heard my wife and kids around the kitchen table. I think they were working on homework, but they were also talking about something fun they wanted to do. I don’t remember exact details, but the gist of the conversation was that somebody had to go ask Dad about something, and they didn’t want to do it.

My. kids. Didn’t want to talk to me. They were afraid of what I might say. Or do.

Clearly, something’s gotta give. I can’t be perfect, but I can do better. I gotta have more patience, I gotta stop and think before I open my mouth. I gotta support my family more, instead of insisting on rigid compliance with how I expect things to go. Wish me luck.

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We have a thing we say, unfortunately we say it rather often: “You always pay.”

Last night my wife and I went out, leaving the kids at home with a sitter. We arrived home later than usual – after midnite.

The sitter was OK (I proclaimed happily as we drove up the street: “Her car’s still here! Yeah!”)

The kids in general were fine. They had convinced her to make them mac and cheese in addition to the pizza we provided (we’re all about the nutrition here, folks) and also talked her into walking a couple miles to a park, which was in the opposite direction of the park that is about two blocks away in the other direction. That’s all fine. She might even speak to us again.

But my eldest was still awake, at 1 AM, and didn’t sleep well last night, and then this morning refused to eat anything. He has been up for almost three hours and is walking around the house wimpering. He has a school project he needs to finish (that will take a lot of work, thanks to procrastination for like, a month) and he refuses to work on that, either.

So today we have beautiful weather and a petulant child. Lovely.

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