It was such a gob smackingly ridiculous accusation, I just turned and walked away from him. Why dignify such a thing with a response?
Last Sunday, the boy had been playing with his DS prior to it being time to go to hockey practice. I’d given him a warning notice that it was getting close to time for him to get ready. Then, the Wife had arrived home and told him it was time to get ready.
He was so upset that he yelled at the Wife, which earned him an early bedtime. That had the predictable consequence of making him more upset. But rather than stop digging the hole he’d made for himself, he redoubled his efforts. So he declared he didn’t want to go to hockey practice.
And I found myself telling him “Fine. Don’t go. But you can spend the rest of the afternoon in your room.” I don’t really know what I was trying to accomplish at the moment. Part of me was tired of still having to fight with him about going to a practice. He had, after all, asked to play hockey. We hadn’t pushed him into it. But I didn’t want to let get him away with not practicing for free. So I opted for the “confined to quarters” approach. He yelled “NO” at me and then blurted out “YOU DON’T LOVE ME!!” while fighting back his tears of frustration.
Remember, all of this came about because of a DS and hockey practice. Oy.
Me being me, I couldn’t just walk away. But I didn’t go back and yell. I went back and calmly asked him “Why would you say that?” He replied “Because you’re mean to me and not my sister.”
I find myself assuming this is just part of the parenthood package. Kind of like the baby arrives and you’re cleaning up poopy diapers and then the baby is teething and decides to bite you one day. Then the next day they’re crawling around floor- now they are mobile and pulling down bookshelves. Shortly after that, they start walking. Make that really mobile, and still pulling down bookshelves. (Why do we have books anyway? Right! So we have something to pick up off the floor…) All of a sudden, the whole carriage thing isn’t nearly the hassle it was. Then they learn how to talk. And some time after that, they accuse you of not loving them.
Palm, meet face.
Like I said, it’ all just part of the process. At least, that’s my hope. After all, there’s very little certainty in parenting. Mostly, we plod along doing what we think gives our children the best odds of growing up to be responsible adults. The knowledge we employ consists of stuff given to us by our parents, or something we read in a book, or similar situations we remember from our own childhood, or something a friend said “worked” with their kid, or perhaps we were lucky enough to perceive something useful. We know that we turned out alright (mostly) and the assumption is that our kids will as well. As long as they don’t sniff too much glue along the way. Or get in with the “wrong” crowd. Whatever that is.
Back to the boy. My response after the “mean” comment was to list all the things we do for him because “we don’t love him.” Like taking him to the zoo or the beach or the park. Like becoming Cub Master for his Cub Scout pack in addition to leading his Den. Like helping him with homework. Like signing him up for hockey and T-ball and summer camp and karate. Like Mom working so he can eat normal meals. Like myself giving up work so he has one of us around all the time.
When I’d finished, it now was his gob that was smacked. Rendering him, for once, speechless. I walked away from him and he chose to finish getting ready for hockey. He ended up going to his hockey practice and having fun with his friends. We didn’t talk much on the way over or the way home. Not much left to say after all that had been said.
Was it a cathartic moment? Would everything be OK after that? Had he turned some kind of corner? Was it just a ridiculous one-off?
No idea. No firm answers to be had. Even a week later, I don’t have much to offer. Other than, it was just another parenting moment.
The only thing I know, is the clock is ticking down to the next one.