That time has come. Even though I knew it would come, I was still caught off guard because I did not see any warning signs. It is as if he woke up on Saturday and decided, "Yup, this is it. Today is the day I am going to ride every one of her nerves, challenge every request and be as smart-mouthed about it as I possibly can. Game on."
I recognized it quickly and I have been trying to gain control of my own emotions and get back to being rational. It is very, very hard. My feelings are very raw and I am on a tight rope of losing my cool at any moment or running into my room and hiding in a corner with my thumb in my mouth in a full blown pout and/or cry.
However, considering that I am supposedly the grown-up...the In-charge One...Maker of Rules and Destroyer of Fun...and the new one "You make us work to hard!". To which I would love to stand on the dining room table, broom in my hand, a cape flowing behind me, a fantastic hair-do (as all the superhero's have fantastic hair AND capes...) and say to the little ones below, "You think THIS is hard? Why don't you try working for a living, doing all your laundry, planning menus, shopping, budgeting, paying bills, washing dishes, cleaning dirty toilets and picking up your filthy, stinky socks and attempting to make them white again...Ha ha ha...Cleaning the living room is NOTHING!...and don't forget to get under the end tables because it annoys me."
I think they would laugh. And I need to be taken seriously.
BB, in his determined way, had a doozy of a weekend. It required a 2 hour recovery period on my part on Sunday afternoon. He wore me out but he did not wear me down. I am proud of the fact that for the most part, with the exception of a few loud outbursts, I kept cool and level-headed.
It started on Friday night when we went to Sam's Club and there was a mistakenly labeled PS2 game that the boys have "only wanted FOREVER" and the price was $18. I have to admit, I was excited too. Between the two oldest boys, they had $15. I could cough up the other $3, on the condition that they would work it off. However, it turned out that it was for a PSP. Their faces were sad and downcast. BB insisted that we drive to a different Walmart than we usually go to and described it only as " the one Grandma took me too". Little does he know that I know of about 7 different Walmart's , any one of which Grandma could have taken him to as she also knows the "W circuit", and I was no where near "in the mood" to drive all over in the hunt for a game after a long day of work followed by shopping. He grumbled and griped.
Saturday morning, he woke up in a fowl mood. He had a basketball game, supposedly his last one, at 8 am. He broke his end of our bargain about taking his Strattera. The bargain being that he would take his medication quickly and without grumbling, complaining or fussing and I would provide chocolate syrup for his milk that he takes his med with. It took 10 minutes that we did not have to lose in order to get him to swallow it.
After his game and our celebratory breakfast at Denny's with the family, we headed to Gamestop to check for a used copy of Lego Indy. No go. While the boys browsed the video games, I put their names down for haircuts at the shop next door. We headed over to Target since we had 2 hours to kill before the hair appointments. Shortly after this, things fell apart. Big time.
Target had the game but it was double the price I was willing to pay. And I explained this. But it did not make BB happy. He was upset. I am fine with that. It was disappointing but I had a plan in mind and I would have shared that plan with him if he would have listened but he decided instead to be so angry that he would not hear a thing I said.
When I was checking out, BB disappeared. I sent the other kids off to look for him and suddenly, I had no children in sight. As I wheeled the cart over in the direction I had seen them go, I saw BB lurking around the books. He would not look me in the eye and he would not follow me. I found the other kids and we swung back by BB but he still refused to come along. I have found when he acts like this, it is best to not give him a lot of attention but instead, walk away and he will follow eventually. He knows I will not leave him behind but he does not get a victory in seeing me get all flustered or bent out of shape.
I got all the way out of the store, stopped to "adjust" my shoe and peer behind me. He still had not come out. I got all the way to the van, loaded the bags, the other 3 were belted in. I started the van and looked in the mirrors and still no sign of him. I decided then that I would drive over towards the door and if need be, I would now HUNT HIM DOWN. As I pulled up to the curb, he was slowly walking and pretending he did not see me. I pushed the button to open the side door and called out to him. He ignored me and did not get in the van.
I had to go out and get him. Looking back, it could have looked very much like a poorly executed kidnapping as I tried to grab a very reluctant child and pull him into a waiting, engine-running, black van with the side door open. This boy continues to have the ability to turn his bones into rubber as well as be able to act like an octopus with all 8 arms and suction cups working to prevent himself from being put in the van and to keep his mother, who is fighting to keep her cool, from getting him in to the van. Every time I got his legs folded in to the van and the door shut, he would push the button and open the door. So, I would do it again. And he would push the button.
In desperation, I told his sister to lock the door when I got him in and the door shut, not thinking how I was going to get myself into the van. This did not work. Stupid van doors with automatic buttons. Sometimes technology is not my friend.
I kind of knocked him off the seat and onto the open floor by the seat and got the door shut, telling Peanut to sit down and take the seat. But he then just opened the other door. I was ready to scream. I walked quickly to the other side of the van, muttering incoherently as I did, and this time, I grabbed him around the middle and shoved him into the back seat and told him in my hardest, yet not a yelling voice, "THIS WILL STOP NOW." And managed to get the door shut.
I scrambled to my seat, locked the doors and began to drive. Then my mouth opened and words were flying. I was white hot, seeing-red, going to explode MAD. I took the other 3 to their hair appointments and told BB that he was to stay in the car until he could sweeten up and I really did not care whatsoever if he got his haircut but he WOULD NOT be embarrassing me or our family again with his behavior.
I was very surprised when he stayed in the van and did not sulk in after a few minutes. I worried a little bit but one of my kids checked on him periodically and said he was asleep under his coat and his quilt. So, I stopped worrying so much. He needed the nap and I needed the break.
Later in the afternoon, he was much calmer and I was able to talk it through with him. He was able to identify that his choices were not beneficial and did not get him what he wanted. He also told me that he was having a very hard time because, "There are just so many things missing from my life."
These comments just tear into my heart every time. It does not get him off the hook for his behavior. But I know that sometimes his "Daddy hunger" is a little closer to the surface than other times. And when he is feeling stressed, it surfaces more quickly.
I think I have gotten better are recognizing that he is trying to start a fight. He wants to release the emotions he has inside him and for some reason, he knows that starting a big fight with me does that. But it is maladaptive and inappropriate. He needs to learn and I need to teach him better ways of coping with disappointment and complex feelings. I saw the signs that he wanted a power struggle and I did not give in. I tried to validate the feelings without excusing the behaviors. I also stuck to my guns about his behavior and my expectations. What I did not know on Saturday was that I would be tested again on Sunday.
Yay. More practice.
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