Defending the indefensible

I’ve thought a lot about whether I should write this post or not. It’s deeply personal and involves an indiscretion on the part of one of my sons who doesn’t have control over what I write (though I did get his permission before I posted this). And I just wrote a post about how great my life is (and it is) and what would people on social media think if I showed a little rust on my halo! Cue anguish, turmoil, indecision. But ultimately, I care more about the issue than what people think of my personal life so here we go.

The Stanford Rape case involving Brock Turner has enraged me along with millions of other men and women around the world. A six month sentence for rape is bad enough but the way Brock, his lawyer and now his father have tried to turn him into the victim is what truly set me over the edge. I don’t specifically want to talk about the rape or the court case in this post but rather the parenting that has been on display.

The victimisation of the perpetrator in this case reminds me a lot of Oscar Pistorius crying over the fact that jail was going to be so hard for him and lamenting over why he was being made to suffer. The thing that struck me about that case was not the murder itself (and yes, a court of law now allows me to call it that) but rather the numerous events that had happened leading up to that fateful night in February 2013 and the actions of those around dear Oscar.

We learnt during his trial that every time Oscar acted out, someone covered it up for him, excused his behaviour, swept it under the carpet, brushed it aside, the euphemisms can go on and on but basically, they absolved him of all responsibility and consequence. The same thing has happened with Brock Turner. His own father is more concerned with Brock not wanting to eat his steak anymore than the fact that he wilfully and deliberately violated an unconscious woman on the side of the road.

These men have been told by every single person close to them that what they did was not their fault, that not only shouldn’t they be punished for what they did, they are now being victimised by even having to defend their actions. They are actually the innocent party in this cruel twist of fate that had nothing to do with their actions but rather some uncontrollable outside force that seeks to destroy their lives for no other reason than…who knows what reason they give, I sure don’t.

But this is the part where I want to talk about parenting. I can assure you (and in Oscar’s case have the specific examples) that these men had many times during their early years where they stepped out of line, crossed boundaries and generally displayed unbecoming behaviour and I can also assure you that in each one of those instances their parents/guardians came to their defence so resoundingly and definitively that by the end of the episode, the boys did not face any consequence to their actions. They were not punished and, in so doing, were absolved of responsibility and had no reason to think they had done anything wrong.

A case in point – a few years ago when we were living at a golf estate in the North West Province, some teenage boys broke into the boat club bar one night to have a little underage booze up. A security guard caught them and do you know what the first reaction of the boys was? They tried to bribe the security guard. Unfortunately for them, the gentleman valued his job more than the R100 the boys offered and so the head of security was summoned, the police were called and the boys parents were informed of the incident.

Now, what do we think was the outcome of all of this? Well, if you are following the gist of my post, the outcome was…nothing. The PARENTS of the boys went to the HOA and pleaded for leniency. They convinced the head of security that the boys were young and they had made a mistake and that they shouldn’t be punished for a few minutes of stupidity. And so no charges were pressed, no punishment was doled out and absolutely no consequences were met. The HOA sent out a letter informing all the residence that there had been a security breach (as they are required to do) but assured us that the boys had learnt a valuable lesson from this incident and would never repeat it.

Honestly, my first thought was ‘well, they may have learnt from the incident but it’s not to never do it again.’ All I could see was that these boys had learnt that if they get into trouble, their parents will bend over backwards to get them out again. It might not have been said directly but the lesson for me was – if you are white and wealthy and male, you don’t have to take responsibility for anything. Daddy will bail you out. And for me, the fact that their first thought had been to try and bribe the poor, black security guard showed that this was just another in a long line of reinforcement in that belief.

(Side note: let’s imagine for a second if the security guard had taken the bribe and then been caught himself. Do we think leniency would have been shown to him or do we think -oh, no wait, sorry, I can’t hear you over the slamming of the jail cell door.)

So here’s where this becomes personal. A few days ago I got a call from my son’s school informing me that he had been suspended (take a moment to gasp in shock and horror, come back when you have composed yourself). He had an altercation with a girl who was irritating him, lost his temper and he had sworn at her and shoved her. The principal informed me that he had spoken to both of them but, due to the fact that this was not my son’s first infraction with swearing, he needed to be punished and so was suspended for one day.

This was not my proudest Mom moment. I have to say that I am deeply disappointed in my child’s behaviour but I’m also deeply disappointed in my parenting. Once the rushing in my ears had died down all I could think was ‘how have things gotten so out of control?’ Because that’s what this is. This is a self control issue, plain and simple, and my darling son was not displaying any.

Now I could have chosen to defend my son, to call into question the actions of the girl who was provoking my precious boy, to plead and cajole and subtly threaten the principal. I could have convinced the principal that my baby was still adjusting to the new environment and that he was suffering from the stress of moving and that this punishment was going to cause him such embarrassment that it was going to psychologically scar him for life and truthfully, I could have probably arranged for another chance to be given to my child.

But I didn’t.

My boy came home embarrassed and contrite. He offered his side of the story, he cried and then he accepted his punishment. And his punishment wasn’t Yay, a day off school! Firstly, he lost the use of his electronics. Then we had a long chat about his feelings, his anger and his lack of control. He read the story of Cain in the Bible and I had him look up and write out all the relevant versus about anger and holding your tongue. He had to think of a list of things that he should have and could have done to extricate himself from the situation he found himself in. I took him down to the beach and made him pick up litter and used it as a metaphor for how he shouldn’t treat people like trash and then I asked him to write apology letters to the girl, her parents and the principal of his school.

I stood by him for the entire day, I never once yelled at him, got upset with him or berated him. I did tell him I was disappointed in his behaviour. I did tell him that I expected him to learn from this and I did tell him that I loved him. I had to show him that I would love him no matter what he did but I couldn’t defend his actions. I had to show him that he was a wonderful, amazing boy but that his actions were wrong, that his choice had been the wrong one and that he needed to take responsibility for that because I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, defend the indefensible.

My son made a mistake, yes, but that mistake has consequences. He hurt that girl with what he did and he didn’t need me to shelter him from that. He needed to take that head on and realise the effect his actions have on others. He needs to learn to think before he speaks in the future, so that he learns to think before he does in the future, so that he doesn’t grow up thinking so much of himself and so little of other people, especially woman, that he lands up raping a girl that he found lying behind a dumpster in the future.

I understand that this is an extreme jump but I do not believe that boys are born rapists, I believe they are raised believing that they are the kings of the universe and that they are entitled to anything and everything their little hearts desire and I believe the actions of their parents reinforce that idea as displayed by Brock Turner’s father.

I hope this has been a wake up call for my son, and for me, that we need to do better. That he needs to be more self aware and that I need to help him assemble the tools he needs to become a good man and a decent human being capable of compassion and empathy. I want him to be someone who takes responsibility for his actions, someone who will try his best not to hurt others and if he does, then to acknowledge the hurt, apologise and then try not to do it again. I want him to know the difference between right and wrong and to know that line doesn’t have anything to do with your gender, the colour of your skin or the money in your wallet.

Chat soon

E xx

P.S. Sorry for not putting a picture up but  I had no idea what would be appropriate to go with this.

Ah, the glory of the Pre-teen

Today on Human Planet, we will explore the intricacies of the developmental stage of homo sapiens know as the Pre-Teen. This is a  beautiful stage in your children’s lives when they are the perfect blend of old enough to do things for themselves and young enough to still think their parents are the sun and moon. This glorious era has been known to begin from as young as 6 years of age and continues until around the age of 12.

The Pre-Teen is excited about life and all it has to offer, they are firmly established in “Big School” now and are keen to flex their intellectual muscles by learning as many new things about their environment as possible. This does not only mean they are learning about the great wide world and how to do multiplication but includes wanting to learn how to wash the car and make their own breakfast. They may even wander into wanting to know how to cook an easy supper meal or baking their first chocolate cake and it is a wise Mother that promotes this kind of experimental learning with lots of praise and much licking of the wooden spoon.

There is delightful jumping out of bed in the morning and the Pre-Teen is proud to show off their unique style by dressing themselves. A word of caution here – the Mother should only criticise the outfit if it is grossly inappropriate for the day’s weather or if special photos are to be taken during the day’s activities. Silliness abounds and dress up is a desired activity. Make believe, magic and fun are still the order of the day. They are also enthusiastic about hygiene and will often spend countless hours happily ensconced in the bath playing with ducks and submarines. They always brush their teeth and getting braces is seen as a rite of passage and is worn as a badge of honour and a declaration that there are no more baby teeth here.

There may be the odd stumbling block for the parents when their young are introduced to the realisation that the world is not quite their oyster and all the toys don’t belong to them but this is handled with the time-honoured tradition of sitting down and having a chat about it. There may be the odd tear or two but, again, this is well handled and the Pre-Teen wouldn’t dream of reverting back to toddler style tantrums and so any bumps in the road are quickly sorted out and smooth sailing is restored.

At this age the Pre-Teen is still seeking comfort from the Mother and Father and there is a natural reverence and respect that is shown to all those in the pack who are seen as elders. Teachers are adored and wonderful stories are regaled at dinner time about that interesting tidbit that was gleaned from the day’s learning. Hugs and kisses are freely given and holding hands in public is not only allowed but often instigated by the Pre-Teen.  A gift or show of kindness given by the parents is accepted with gratitude and appreciation is shown in many ways, often spontaneously. The Pre-Teen is known for writing cards and drawing pictures of their parental unit in a flattering light and it would not be uncommon for the phrase “You are the best Mother/Father” to be heard around the den.

Ah, yes, the Pre-Teen is surely a magnificent phase of life for the young and old alike. It is said by many to be the reward for surviving the tumultuous Toddler years and provides a resting period for the Mother and Father before the arduous foray into the Teen Age. Many an unsuspecting parent has looked back on these years with a little tear in the eye and expressed that they could never have known just how quickly that glorious time would pass as they woke up to discover themselves overwhelmed by the seeming purgatory of living with Teenagers.

The old idiom “you can’t live with them, you can’t kill them” quickly becomes the catch phrase in any house dominated by the dreaded Teen but a word to the wise – for any parent dreaming of revisiting the magical years of bliss by having a “Laat Lammetjie”* as it is referred to, please always remember that every Pre-Teen must eventually learn to roll those innocent eyes and shake off those bonds of politeness and smiling faces and brave the new world of sarcasm and door slamming if they are to pass through to the final destination of adulthood.

All that a desperate parent can do is hope that both they and their offspring survive the journey long enough for the ultimate reward of the promised Grandchildren.

And so ends another episode of Human Planet, please join us again next week as we delve into the fascinating  phenomenon of the Young Adult who refuses to move out of their parent’s Garden Cottage.

Goodnight.

* English translation – Late Lamb or a child born many years after the previous last born.

Mother’s Day – the sad, depressing version.

I have to tell you that I really don’t like Mothers Day very much. Yes, I am a mother and yes, my husband and my boys work very hard to make it a special day for me but it’s still a difficult, awkward day for me and that’s because I have a difficult, awkward relationship with my own mother.

I have never written about this part of my life before for several reasons –

1. Because people who know me and her will land up reading this and I didn’t want to involve them or upset them.

2. It’s deeply personal and complicated and impossible to explain in one blog or one conversation and often lands up coming out all wrong.

3. Because I was embarrassed about what it says about me and I was worried that if people knew my mother didn’t like me then maybe they would think I was unlikeable to.

But I have made some major changes in my life and one of those is to live more honestly so here goes.

My mother never beat me and she never abandoned me in the physical sense of the word. She’s not an addict and she never put me in dangerous or abusive situations. My mother just doesn’t like me very much. She doesn’t like herself very much either but that is her story to tell. She doesn’t approve of the choices I’ve made or the life I lead. She doesn’t like the way I dress or how I parent and she thinks I’m a bad wife. She thinks I’m uninteresting, I have no sense of humour and that I haven’t achieved or accomplished anything of worth in my entire life. She doesn’t want to spend time with me and aside from getting money out me would prefer not to have to deal with me at all.

I can say all of this because she has told me all of these things and more for pretty much my whole life. She also says that every single trait that she doesn’t like about me, I get from my father who she divorced when I was 11. And she’s been telling me that since I was 11. I tried for years to be the daughter she wanted, I bent myself into a pretzel trying to make her happy, to make her like me, to make her love me but there was always one more thing. One more thing I had to do, one more thing I had to change about myself, one more thing I had to buy, one more job I had to do, one more sacrifice I had to make…one more thing.

3 years ago I chose to stop giving her money and she pretty much chose to not have a relationship with me after that. She has since tried to make contact with me and I have now taken the decision to not open the lines of communication. So it is my choice that I am motherless and I do take responsibility for that.

I have friends who have lost their mothers and they often tell me to try again. They tell me that maybe she has changed and to give her another chance. They tell me about their mom and how their heart aches that they have to live without them. They ask me “don’t you miss her?” and my response is always the same – if I had your mother, I wouldn’t have this problem but I’ve never had a mother like that. I’ve never had a mother who held my hand or brushed my hair or took me out for coffee or who taught me how to do my make up or went dress shopping with me. I’ve never had a mother who dreamed of my future with me or who I could turn to in a crisis or with a problem. I’ve never had a mother who made me feel good about myself or who said nice things to me or who said ‘I love you’ because she meant it and not because I had just given her something.

So Mother’s Day is a tough one for me because for most of the year I am able to forget. I am able to be busy enough to put it out of my mind and not think about what I am missing. But then May comes around and the ‘Who has the best Mother in the World’ competitions start and it reminds me of this amazing life-altering relationship that altered me in the wrong way, of all the things I missed out on and of all the things I will never have and it makes me sad.

And that is my truth.

Chat soon

E xx

 

 

 

Baby NOT on board

I woke up this morning to my cellphone beeping at 6.45 and immediately turned my phoned on to silent, rolled over and went back to sleep. When I woke up again an hour later to coffee in bed, a little cuddle with my 11 year old who had already fed himself breakfast and the prospect of a morning Christmas market, a lunch date with my sons and a theatre production in the afternoon on a beautiful Saturday, it got me thinking about where I am in my life right now.

I am in my mid 30’s and, because I started having kids young, I have a 13 year old and an 11 year old in the house. Quite a few of my friends have started suggesting that I have a third child – a little girl to bring joy and pink ribbons into my life. My husband and I are not even remotely tempted to consider this as an option and this is why –

• We can sleep in on Saturdays and Sundays, and public and school holidays. Our boys make their own breakfast and get themselves dressed. They know that if they want to turn the TV on, they have to come and quietly, close our bedroom door so as to not disturb us. Eli really likes his morning cuddles but has learnt to respect that if there is no movement in the bed and the kettle hasn’t been boiled in the kitchen that he is not allowed to disturb us yet.
• I can wear white…and dangly earings and high heels again. There are no sticky marks on my clothes anymore and no one pulling at my pretty, shiny anything causing panic and potential trips to the emergency room.
• My entire family can leave the house with nothing but my wallet, drivers license and car keys and everything will be ok.
• We can have impromptu dinners or lunches or brunches and nothing has to be scheduled around a nap or how much formula I have in my bag.
• I can stay up late or have a night out with the girls that goes a few hours later than planned and not actually spend the night thinking about how much I am going to pay for this the next day. If I wake up with a hangover I get a glass of water and coffee next to my bed, the kids playing quietly for a couple of hours and breakfast out at a restaurant of my choice…and if I feel like it, an afternoon nap later in the day.
• My husband and I have conversations and we don’t talk about the kids at all – not even a mention! We can have date nights that go late because we don’t need to worry about the babysitter and when we get home late, the house is quiet and the kids are fed, bathed and in bed – because they sorted themselves out.
• I make one meal for the family and everyone eats it. We all sit down at the dinner table together and talk about our day, there are no temper tantrums and if anyone throws food, they have to clean it up themselves!
• I am not up to date on the toilet habits of anyone in my house and I don’t need to keep sniffing anyone’s butt. Enough said.
• The only person I have to clean, wash and shampoo is myself. I will admit that I occasionally have to remind my teenager to wash his hair (maybe once a week) but that is the extent of my involvement in their hygeine.
• I am the biggest drama queen in my house (granted I am the only female in my house as well but the boys gave me a run for my money for several years about a decade ago)
• And to follow on from that – if there is anything getting thrown around my house, it’s usually me throwing dirty clothes in the laundry or a ball for the dog.
• I never have to hear Barney, Teletubbies, Postman Pat or any of those repetitive, annoying  characters with their mind-numbingly boring songs ever again in my life (honestly, I think I could list just this as a reason and stop there)
• I have a life that doesn’t revolve around anyone else if I don’t want it to. The first few years of motherhood are, in a lot of ways, akin to a dictatorship. Most of us are fortunate to have gracious masters and we don’t get beaten or starved but we are not 100% in control of our situation and almost everything hinges on the mood or nap time of the Lord or Lady of the Manor.

Please don’t get me wrong, I loved the baby years and the toddler years and the tween years and now I am loving the pre-teen and teenage years. I have been there and done that and have the vomit on the t-shirt to prove it. I told a friend recently that in the same way as grandkids are your reward for surviving the teenage years, the pre-teen phase is the reward for surviving the first years.

My kids are easy, almost everything I do relating to them is a mental exercise and the physicality of motherhood is now pretty much confined to teaching my kids how to dance and taking the dogs for a walk while chatting to the boys and eating an ice-cream. I feel like I have earned this stage of motherhood and I’m going to soak it up for as long as I can.

So, I hope you enjoy your Saturday as much as I plan to and now I’m off to read a few chapters of my book and have breakfast in bed because I can.

Chat soon

E xx

Just say no!

Max likes guava rolls, the deliciously sugary dried fruit rolls this country is famous for. He is the only one in our family who eats them so I buy them as a treat for his lunchbox. The other day, I bought a pack of ten mini rolls…and Max ate 5 in one day. This is not good.

I bought him a new kind of multi vitamin that looked and tasted like jelly tots and he finished a month’s supply in 10 days. That is really not good! He likes Tropica juice but if I buy a pack of 6, he will drink a pack of 6 in two days. I could go on and on.

Max has a real struggle with self control and even though he is terrible at hiding his indiscretions and even worse at lying about it, he keeps sneaking into the kitchen and eating all the “bad” food. Normally, I wouldn’t mind. I never restrict my kids from eating – there are always fruit, veggies and bread available for them if they need a snack and I fully understand that they are growing boys and need to eat. That isn’t the problem. The problem is Max’s lack of control when it comes to sweets and anything of a sugary nature.

If he goes to a party and we don’t stay at the event, we know he is going to come home completely high on sugar and the evening is going to be spent trying to get him calm enough to get some sleep and the next day is going to be hanging out with a seriously grumpy kid. And even though he knows how terrible his come down is going to be and how unpleasant he is going to feel the next day, a few weeks go by and the next party comes around and Max is right back to overdoing it all
over again.

The thing is – are these the early warning signs of a worse kind addiction later on in life and what do I do about it? Most people that I mention this to or try to talk about it with tell me that I am worrying about nothing and that I mustn’t say things like that because I will speak it into his life. They say that every child likes sugar and struggles with self control, that this will pass and when he grows up, everything will be fine. But what happens if this isn’t a phase? If it isn’t just childish behaviour?

If I am to believe that addiction is hereditary then it is a disposition that we are born with and so wouldn’t it make sense that there be signs of this kind of behaviour in children rather than just waking up one day and *boom* you have your first drink and can’t control yourself? Wouldn’t it make sense that there would be patterns of behaviour for years beforehand like a lack of self control in certain areas of life? Like being so desperate for a fruit roll that you will sneak into the kitchen in
the middle of the night and stuff three down your throat before sneaking back to bed and pretending to sleep when your parents check up on you before they go to sleep? Like hiding empty food packets under your bed only to be discovered by the domestic when she tries to flip your mattress and then trying to lie about it. Like not caring about hurting your parents when you repeat this same pattern of behaviour over and over and over again even though you have promised to stop and cried and begged for one more chance for them to trust you?

I don’t WANT to speak anything negative into my child’s life but I also don’t want to blatantly ignore the potential warning signs of a far bigger problem. Addiction in whatever form is a huge problem in the world today and I can’t just pretend that I am not seeing some major precursers to a far greater problem.

I am not entirely sure what to do about the situation at this point in time. Ultimately, it is Max’s issue. He is the one who needs to learn some measure of self control. How to teach someone self control is easier said than done, I can assure you! We do talk very openly about addiction and the ramifications of certain decisions, we talk about peer pressure and growing up, we talk about mistakes that we have made and about consequences and forgiveness and the reality that both boys are going to have a lot more stuff offered to them than was available when Anton and I were growing up. I am doing my best, trying to reinforce positive behaviour, praising small measures of control and being as encouraging as possible. but if I am totally honest, the thing I do most is pray.

I pray that my son will find it in him to make good choices, I pray that he will get over this (hopefully) phase in his life and I also pray that if he has to be addicted to something, it’s sugar, I can live with the sugar highs. I pray that I am wrong, that I am just being a silly, overprotective mother who is going to look back at this one day and be embarrassed that I could ever have thought that about my beautiful, wonderful boy. I pray that a lot.

Chat soon

E xx

You do yours, I’ll do mine

So while I was grocery shopping the other day, I had a shocking encounter with a stranger.

I was looking for the meal-in-a-can (meatballs and baked beans variety) which my boys love to have as an after school lunch. Pick ‘n Pay keeps these on the very bottom shelf so I was on hands and knees scrounging up 6 tins and making sure I didn’t inadvertently get a viennas and spaghetti combo into the mix – I got told off so good by my boys, I will never make that mistake again!

Anyway, I found six tins, took them off the shelf and put them on the floor, stood up but only managed to pick up 5 of the six tins to put in my trolley. When I turned back to get the 6th tin, an elderly gentleman was attempting to put the stray tin back on the shelf so I walked over and explained and took the tin from him.

As he walked away, he turned to me and lightly said, “you’re a lazy woman.”

I must have looked stunned and so he went on to say, ” giving your family a meal-in-a-can, you should cook them a proper meal.” So I laughed and explained that it was for my boys’ lunch and that I do, in fact, cook them a proper meal every evening.

And then as I walked away, I thought about the implication that a complete stranger could judge me as a wife and mother based on my grocery shopping and then feel like he had a right to say something about it! Now, I know that it was a joke and he didn’t mean any harm and it was an innocent little comment but I can also take you a bet that had a man been putting meals-in-a-can in his trolley, this gentleman would not have called him a lazy man and expected him to cook a proper meal for his family!

I know that it is my choice to be a stay at home mom and I know that it is, for want of a better word, my job but I’m not sure that I like the fact that other people feel they have the right to critique my performance and expect me to meet their standards. I also don’t understand how people can deliberately not respect the choices I have a right to make as a parent. I am always amazed at the unsolicited advise that gets doled out to new parents. Now, don’t get me wrong, if I am chatting to a new parent, I will happily talk about whatever issue they are going through and comment on how Anton and I dealt with that. Sharing is caring after all. The difference comes in with the expectation when following the advise.

I’ll give you an example – I have been told in no uncertain terms by family members that they do not think my children should do martial arts or yoga or anything with an Eastern pull to it for religious reasons. Now, I personally do not share this same view point and neither does my husband and my kids really, really enjoy their Taekwando and Kids Yoga. So they carry on going. But every time we see the family members and they ask the kids about school and sport and the boys mention the Yoga, we have to have the shock and horror and lecture about what terrible parents we are and how we are leading our kids down a dangerous path. *Sigh*

On the other hand, I have a serious issue with toy guns. I’m not going to go into my opinion right now but my kids have never been allowed to own, play with or keep a toy gun. Not even a water gun. I expressed this view to these very same family members who then proceeded to buy my kids toy guns for Christmas because the cousins were getting the same thing. My response was that my boys never received the gifts and we slowly and quietly started spending less and less time with that side of the family.

I get that people want to share and comment but there still needs to be a line where I have the right to choose and that I have the respect of others to make that choice. I would never dare to think I know how to parent better than anyone else. I have no idea of the intricacies of any other child other than my own and I would thank people to realise the same about my kids. I am the one who has stayed up nights with feeding, changed a thousand nappies, nursed every illness, disciplined every temper tantrum, wiped tears and comforted them through disappointments and watched every triumph from taking their first steps to receiving every accolade and good report card. I know what makes them tick, what gets them motivated, what makes them mad, what makes them cry and what they find funny or interesting or just plain cool.

Parenting is hard enough, I don’t need judgement on top of everything else I have to deal with – from strangers but especially from the people who are supposed to be your support system. So let’s make a deal. I will raise my kids the way I see fit, you raise your kids the way you see fit, we’ll both agree that we are doing the best we can and no one will every call a stranger in a grocery store a lazy woman ever again!

Chat soon

E xx

School’s Out, Scream and Shout!

It is school holidays here in my crazy household and I was so looking forward to the start of the vacation, I was literally counting down the days until they started…The second term is long and cold and I think we were all absolutely exhausted by the end of it. The boys have been so busy, participated in so many sports and events, written so many tests that it almost felt like the end of the year!

We are in the first week of holiday and now I am literally counting down the days until the boys go back to school…and I have another 25 days.

It’s not that I don’t love my boys or love spending time with them, it’s just that I am so used to my routine that I don’t always know what to do with them for weeks and weeks on end. And of course the easiest thing to do would be to let them stare at some sort of screen day in and day out so that I can carry on with my day. This is obviously not best parenting practice and so must be limited – especially for the Aspie!

The thing about being a full time mom that a lot of people don’t talk about is that your job never really stops. I cook and clean and do battle with the laundry basket during the week days and on weekends, whether the boys are at school or at home, the bills still need to be paid, the shopping done, the errands run and the maintenance of the house sorted out, my jobs don’t stop. I don’t get a vacation from my life and having two large boys under foot 24/7 just adds to my workload.

My husband learnt that the easy way when he went to work in an office environment for the first time in years this year. He goes to work, works hard and then switches off his computer and comes home. And has no expectations to carry on working when he gets home. None. At all!

I can take a few days where I put things aside to spend some quality time with the boys but, ultimately, in the back of my mind I am thinking that this time needs to be made up at some point in the future and it can get a little stressful. Don’t get me wrong, I love my life and I am blessed that I get to be home with my boys and hang out but after the third day of the boys fighting with each other about who’s turn it is on the Wii and the situation ending with me banishing both of them to their rooms, I start to wonder if it is really worth it. This is not my idea of a vacation!

And then to top it all off, Max has a huge amount of school work to catch up on these holidays as he decided to turn thirteen and rebel against authority this year meaning that he has seven months of homework to do before exams start next term. This has caused no end to the joy in my life ( <— BLATANT SARCASM) and we have had to negotiate how best to get this work done. The final consensus was

week 1 – freedom

week 2 – work

week 3 – dependent on how much work was completed in week 2

week 4 – a blissful break for all of us as we go away, far, far away to a warm beach where I can forget my troubles with a cocktail and little umbrellas. ( THIS is my idea of a vacation!)

But the point is, it is just going to add to my already very busy schedule and it makes me tired just thinking about it. A friend asked me if I had finished a mosaic that I started a few months ago and I told her honestly that I hadn’t even looked at it since the last crafting day because I just haven’t had time. Then another friend asked me why I hadn’t posted a new blog piece and I told her the exact same thing. I know I need to prioritise things but right now sleep is getting top billing!

This has turned into quite a grumpy post, which was not my intention but it is an honest reflection of a tired mom at 10.02pm after a long day of being a mom. Tomorrow will be better and soon enough I will be back to counting down the days until the next holiday!

Chat soon

E xx

Better than therapy

 

 

“Mom, do you believe in aliens?”
“Mom, why weren’t the dinosaurs allowed on the ark with Noah?”
“Mom, are you and Dad ever going to get a divorce?”

Every parent will know that you get some pretty interesting questions from your kids and they really keep you on your toes. I don’t know what parents in previous generations did but all I can say is Thank goodness for Google!

I have found though, that the Asgergian mind looks at the world in quite a different way and that
has lead to some awkward exchanges in the past between Max and myself. Max is obsessed with
the worry that his Dad and I will split up and it has been going on for quite a few years now. Fortunately, I know exactly how he feels because he has absolutely no filter and tells me often how worried he is.

His brother has never once asked about our relationship status, though whether it’s because he doesn’t worry about it or because he doesn’t know how to broach the subject I couldn’t tell you. I cannot recall a time in my childhood where I ever asked about how my parents were doing, though I do remember being concerned about it. And when my parents got divorced, I remember wondering if there was anything I could have done to prevent that. I never felt comfortable broaching the subject and voicing my concerns or feelings though. As an adult, I realised that it wasn’t my fault at all but it did cause me stress and worry as a child.

I’m not saying that my husband and I are having problems but every couple has disagreements and you can’t always hide it from the children, nor do I think it is all that healthy to never show your kids that disagreements do happen.

A typical exchange happens as follows:
It is early in the morning, everyone is running late.

Me:” Anton did you recharge Max’s phone? He needs it today so that he can call me when he is
done with his match”

Anton,” No, I haven’t had time”

Me,” please do it now quickly, he really needs it.”

Anton ” well, I’m going to be late for work so I can’t right now”

Me (raising my voice)” but I asked you to do this days ago”

Anton (raising his voice) ” well it’s his phone, shouldn’t he know how to do this himself?”

Me ,” DONT CHANGE THE SUBJECT, JUST CHARGE HIS BEEP BEEP BEEP* PHONE!”

Anton ” I DONT KNOW HIS PASSWORD AND NOW I’M LATE AND I HOPE YOURE HAPPY!”

Anton leaves the house, slamming the front door. I’m seething with rage and wondering why I
married such an incompetent fool.

Max ” You guys still love each other right?”

Now what I want to say here is “no, Max, I don’t, right now I think your dad is the most annoying
person on the planet!” But I don’t because that will lead me down a path that is too much trouble to bear. So I take a deep breath and I smile and I say, “of course we still love each other, honey. It’s just a silly argument about nothing. We will always love each other and we will stay together
forever.” And as I say the words, I realize that they are true and that I have a wonderful husband
and a lovely family. And then I send my hubby a text to say sorry and I love you.

There are a lot of challenges that come with a child with Aspergers, conflict resolution is not one of them. I swear it’s cheaper than therapy.

And then I get “Mom, where do swear words come from?”

I say the family that fights and makes up together, stays together!

Chat soon
E xx

P.S. I don’t actually say “beep”, I say swear words. Real ones! I’m not perfect.

Goals, goals, goals

I used to encourage my boys to focus on getting very high end of year marks at school. I used to expect them to work hard throughout the year and keep at it and achieve my level of expectation because I knew they were capable of it but also because that is what I am good at doing. And then last year neither of the boys achieved straight ‘A’s’ and I was just devastated. Anton, on the other hand, was thrilled with the fact that they both achieved an ‘A’ in Maths and insisted that we reward them for their special effort. At first I was shocked by this but after thinking about it for a while I came to a simple realisation. I asked myself “when is the last time you committed to something a year away and then achieved it?”

So at the beginning of this year, I sat down with the boys and we discussed goals that they wanted to achieve. We broke them up into different categories – academics, sport, interests that kind of thing. And then I encouraged them not only to set goals that will be accomplished by the end of the year but also things that can be done at different times during the year so that the task didn’t seem so far away and daunting. I also didn’t insist on straight A’s for every subject. We included reading a certain number of books during the year which has been fabulous because they could each tick off the first of that goal within two weeks of starting the challenge.

We discussed what their reward would be and we also set the benchmark at 80% rather than 100%. This was my husband’s brilliant idea and he explained as such – each of the boys landed up with about 18 goals for the year. That is quite a lot of work and what happens if they don’t achieve one of those goals? If the reward only comes at 100% then the minute they don’t achieve one thing, they will be so disheartened and they won’t have a reason to carry on with the rest of the goals. Also, we want to focus on the positives of them accomplishing things, not on the negative of one potential failure. Failure shouldn’t be the defining factor of setting goals.

I have no idea if this is the ideal way to motivate them as individuals, my husband hates the idea of boxing himself into anything. It’s almost as if he has an uncontrollable urge to do the opposite of whatever is required of him. He likes to chose to do something because he wants to – if he needs exercise, he runs, if he needs to lose some weight, he simply eats less. He does a job that he loves and is passionate about and is happy to go to every week day. It’s a little annoying. I, on the other hand need to enter a race to motivate myself to get on the treadmill and train. I need the goal, the finish line, the medal, the prize. And right now, this is the best way that I know how to teach my boys about thinking ahead, setting goals and then learning the tools to get yourself closer to those accomplishments so this is what they get.

Some of the items are only achievable at certain times of the year – the obvious ones being academics at the end of the year but Max wanted to make the Cross country team this year (tick) and that only happened in the second term and Eli just made the Hockey team (another tick). They have both ticked off running a 5km race among other things and both are steadily ticking off their reading lists.

We are now half way through and both boys are still in the realm of achieving 80% of their goals for the end of the year. We just got the boys mid-year reports and this was a good time to go through their goals and check in with what has been accomplished, what is coming up that needs to be focussed on in the next few months and, for the academics, where they are on track and what needs a little extra attention.

It has been interesting to see how they handle the pressure of sticking to the goals and how far they push themselves to achieve them as well. We have had good days and bad, we have had days where we all want to throw in the towel but slowly, day by day, they are getting closer to the big prize. With a little more continued effort, they will achieve a far larger accomplishment than what I had envisioned last year and hopefully have learnt how to break things down, stay motivated and set realistic targets.

If it’s successful, I may even set myself some goals next year…now what do I want as a reward…?

Chat soon
E xx

The squeaky wheel…

The sqeaky wheel gets the oil or so the saying goes. This is true in all aspects of life – the customer who yells the loudest gets the attention, the person who brags most about his/her accomplishments gets noticed at work and the child who makes the most noise or requires the most work gets the most attention. So what do you do when you have one child who, through no fault of their own, NEEDS more of your time and effort and energy to get through the day and another who doesn’t.

I work on developing the interests that Elijah has that are seperate from Max’s. It turned out to be easier than I thought once I put a little effort in. Firstly, I tried to find a sport that Elijah liked that Max didn’t – horse riding came to the forefront very quickly. Eli loves animals and is naturally very good with them while Max enjoys our furry friends but is a little timid and afraid and so tries to avoid spending too much time with large four-legged creatures. As it happens, I used to ride as a child and so Elijah and I have had 3 years of horse riding lessons together several times a week.

The second thing I looked at was activities in the home. Aspergians are notorious for having laser-beam like focus so if they like something, they really like it but if they aren’t interested in something, it can be as though that activity or item doesn’t exist at all. Now I love to cook and so I have tried to get both my boys into the kitchen with me from a very young age to teach them the basics of working in the kitchen. I feel that it is not only fun but a great life skill to have. Max, however, was having none of that and will barely make it to the kitchen to lick the chocolate covered spoon after a cake making endeavour. Elijah, on the other hand, loves spending time with me in the kitchen. To be honest, I do sometimes think that he has figured out that he needs to pick activities or points of interest that are opposite to his brother if he doesn’t want to be railroaded into being a spectator for large portions of his life. Aspergians DON’T like to share!

Anyway, Saturday mornings are our special time, we go to horse-riding in the morning and then come home and bake in the kitchen for an hour or two. This Christmas, Eli got his own baking cookbook and we so look forward to going through it recipe by recipe and making wonderful memories along the way.

Being the younger sibling of an Aspergian is no easy task. It can be very frustrating and overwhelming and often times feel like you are the on-demand plaything of a tyrant or dictator. I am incredibly proud of how my son handles these challenges and I feel grateful that Max has such a great brother in his life who is so caring, kind and understanding of the particular challenges that are in store for him in the coming years. But that doesn’t mean that I expect Elijah to be at the beck and call of his sibling, nor do I expect him to accept less time, attention and affection from his parents just because he has a demanding older brother. It is my job as his mother to make sure that he gets what he needs from me and his Dad without always having to ask for it.

I have to get back to my washing now…but before I do here is a pic of the finished product of our Saturday morning.

YUM!

Chat soon

E xx