Day Seven! Saving Sons

There is only one person on this entire world who can make me mad. I really don't know how he does it. It only takes a minute. The right thing is said and my entire being boils from the inside. Maybe four years ago, I would be able to keep the lid to my kettle shut. I never ever ever yell. I never ever ever get mad. I never ever loose my control. Well, until he came along. And, I made him. Let's start at the beginning of the day. I wake to the sight on my daughters big blue eyes looking up at me from her father's side of the bed. She didn't jab me in the ribs this morning. No, she is a kitty. That is a pretty pleasant way to wake up, you know. And, it was 7:14, not the usualy 5:45 when she fluffed up the covers and snuggled into my side. Today, both kids are pleasant. Why, you ask? Well, they know they get a day of fun with their friends Alexis and Micheal who just happen to be their same ages. Their mom will take the kids up to the big bouncy place and feed them lunch. I am excited for a couple of hours to create in my studio. Alas, I whittled away the time after they left sorting eight dozen piles of "get to this later" that was lingering on the kitchen counter. So, no art today, but a bit mo organized...kind of. At one, I dash up to meet the kids and a friend who lives up north. I meet the friend but am at the wrong bounce place. After a too short chat with my friend, I race to pick up to very tired kids. I fly through three cities south to an appointment. Arriving fifteen minutes late, we still get the eval from the kids' PT. Simple fix, buy daughter narrow shoes and/or orthotic support for her heel. We are shown exercises. During the appointment, brother played on this swing thing in the gym space. He played a little on the iPad. Then I guess he went to swing and sister picked up the pad to play Smurf while I was chatting with the therapsit. Okay, who cares, right? A fight proceeds to elevate on the way to the car about who got more time on the iPad and who gets to play it in the car...never mind that I never said anyone could play in the car. Bing bang boom, now no one is getting to play on the pad at all. He is furious. He is screaming at me. He throws a shoe at my head. My blood boils. I loose it. I yell, "Get your seat belt buckled, Asshole." Okay, before you turn me in to the authorities, remember I do know I shouldn't call my son a bad name. The whole way home I am bawling. My son is bawling and screaming. Now he is going to run away from home. Now, he is going to spend his time out in the car, and I can't put down the garage door on him. Now his time out is five miutes instead of six. Now, his sister is taking up too much space. Now... I am at a loss. I suppose that is why I am writing about this. He is too old and heavy to carry him up to his room. I have given him choices. I have explained that he is in control by the choices he makes. I am a Love and Logic parent. i am a Love and Logic parent. I am...sigh. I am scared he is just going to get bigger and stronger. Will he out grow this? It only started this year. Where is my sweety? Where is the guy who asks if he can help everyone. Everyone but me. Why me? I pull into the garage and see that Father is home. I send Julia inside; she undrstands. I can see it in her eyes. I pull out of the drive and start down the street. "Where are you going, Momma?". "I don't know." I drive to the reservoir that is part of the 10k loop I have yet to master. I get out. He gets out. I point out the bathrooms. I point out the shelter where two people are picnicing and looking at us curiously. I point out the trash cans and walk down to a bench. There are fishermen along the bank. I tell him I will bring him a fishing rod in the morning and ask him if he knows how to start a grill to cook the fish. "Why are you telling me this?". "Oh, well, you said I was the worse mother, you didn't care about anyone and you wanted to go live by yourself some where. I thought this was a good place for you to try. You have a potty, fish, a bench, rain shelter, and even a trash you could dig through for food if you get desperate. And, the great thing is it is only a few miles from home so if you change your mind, you can walk home.". By this time we are sitting on another bench. It is warm by the sun, but I can tell that won't last much longer. It is a bit breezy. I get up to leave. "Where are you going?" "Home for dinner. Don't worry I will leave the blanket from the car with you. I will bring you a fishing rod in the morning.". Defeated and crying he runs behind me and slips his hand into mine. It is cold. "I don't want to stay here.". "But, you didn't want to live with me, and I am going home. So maybe you ought to stay here.". We get to the car. I sit on the curb. He sits next to me and asks for a Kleenex. I get him one. I ask him to look at his reflection in the car side panel. I ask him what he sees. He is silent. I tell him what I see. He begins to pour out his soul, his fears, his sadness. We talk about what kind of man he wants to grow up to be. I give him some ideas on how to deal with his anger. He feels defeated and claims none of that will work. I ask him to pick a number. Next time he feels the anger come up, he will count backwards from twenty. Do I think the counting will help, not really. I am this boy's mom. He is the only person in this entire Earth in all of my life time that has ever insited me to yell and loose my cool. I wish I could put him a little cuddly box and keep him little. But, that is not the way of life. So I pray. I pray for me, not him. I pray for guidance. And, I take an exhausted boy home, feed him, and put him to bed at 6:30. He asks if he still has to do time out. I tell him he already did. And, I leave for an art lecture by Kim Weston, Edward Weston's grandson, at the Longmont Musuem. I ran my victory lap as I learned about the life and work of the famous photographer and his heirs. Well, a victory lap for today. Now for the trophy, bed.