I'm in a cranky mood, but I'm not sure why. When in doubt, blame hormones. I was doing alright most of the day, but late this afternoon I started getting testy. Diva was hanging off of me, invading my personal space. I spent a good bit of time with her today. I washed her hair, and spent a while making sure it was properly moisturized. She is supposed to put moisturizer on it every day, but she doesn't, so it gets very dry and brittle. Then she looks like a
*, and I feel guilty as though it is my fault that she won't take care of herself. It's not like I don't remind her, either. There are better ways to encourage compliance, I just don't do it. I don't do it because I'm worn down to a nubbin.
*Look! A new word! I didn't know this one, but it popped up as a synonym when I double checked "urchin." I like it better than "waif" or "urchin" because it's fancy and polysyllabic.
So Diva and I had some pretty good Mommy - Daughter time today. Before I worked on her hair, she sat with me as I perused some blogs (I was very careful to
avoid a few of my regulars(NSFW, duh) with her beside me) and looked at a few Facebook pages. But after she leaned her hot body on my arm for an hour, I was ready for some distance. But she keeps coming in here and giving me that puppy-dog look, holding out her hands as if she's a baby wanting to be picked up. That stuff gets really irritating after a while. I could understand it if she were 2 years old. But at 11, she needs to cut that shit out.
They've been leaving me alone for a while, though. I'm happy about that. Superman is with them at the kitchen table teaching them how to play Sargent Major. He is a cut-throat game player. I'm a wimpy wuss. I don't like playing games with him. The first summer we were married he convinced me to play some card games with him. He made me cry. This sweet, funny, solicitous honeybear turned into a vengeful rat-bastard when he had cards in his hands. I took it personally. As I said, I'm a wuss. I cried. He was confused. We rarely play cards together, even now. Thankfully, 75% of our children love to play card games and board games. That's one thing I will miss when they all leave. No one else will be here to play games with the poor man. I might be forced to roll some dice and move some mice.
I have to tell you about a good day my kids had earlier this week. Sproing was at school, thus not in the house creating chaos. The other three sat in the kitchen and played poker; 5 card draw, using dry beans as currency. Black beans were 10, pinto beans were 5, and black eyed peas were 1. Twitched creamed his sisters' collective tuckuses. It was a lot of fun to listen to. I was in the next room, on the computer (aren't I always?), and laughing heartily. It is rare and wonderful when my kidlets make me laugh. I refer to the happy laugh, not that crazed lunatic laugh.
Then the three of us girls "looked" the beans, Light rinsed and soaked them, and Thursday we had bean soup. With a bit of instruction from me, Light made the soup. It was GOOD!
In other news, Sproing was suspended from his summer program for two days. He had a violent meltdown on Wednesday when the group was on a field trip to the skating rink. He ended up trying to run away from the group, going into the woods around the parking lot. When he was brought back to the group, he picked up rocks and threw them at the other students. As soon as they got back to the school, Superman got a call to come pick the boy up. He will be back at school, everything hunky-dory with the staff, on Monday. I hope he's ready for a reboot, too.
I had an excellent conversation with the program director Wednesday afternoon. After Sproing came home, I went over there to investigate. I really like that program! It is designed specifically for kids like Sproing. They do really good work with him, trying to teach him how to divert himself when he begins to feel frustrated. The director spends a lot of time with him, and has a good rapport with him. She doesn't get angry, she allows him to talk to her, she listens respectfully, and helps him figure out some good alternatives when he is inclined to fly into a rage. I hope this is immediately effective for him. I need to see some good results. I am beat down from trying and trying and trying without ever seeing any improvement.
Recently, while reading various blogs and things around the interwebz, I have read tales of misbehaving children. These stories are told from the perspective of an outside observer who watches a young child have some kind of public melt-down, with a generous side of egregious behavior. There are stories of older children who do offensive illegal things. The overwhelming message I hear/read/see in these reports is that there is something wrong with the parents. The youngsters have not been properly taught, trained, molded into civil people. It's the parents' fault. The parents are responsible for their children's behavior.
I take this personally.
In so many of these incidents I see familiar behavior. My kids (the younger two, specifically) do shit like that. It's horrific. I do not "let" them get away with it! I punish them, I talk to them, I teach them more appropriate behaviors and responses, they receive consequences. We have been doing this for years. The kids have been ignoring me for years. Sproing is beginning to get violent and more stringently defiant.
I am not perfect. I am far from being a perfect mother. My natural personality is more inclined to love and encourage than to fight. I have not been as strong, as self-disciplined, as strict as I should have been. We don't have a rigid enough routine around here. Flexibility is my strength, but I'm afraid these kids need less flexibility and more rigidity than I have provided.
I have tried very hard to do what needs to be done. The longer I try, seeing little or no improvement, the more discouraged I become. The more discouraged I am, the less energy I have to do what they really need. I get overwhelmed. I have trouble even doing what little I am capable of.
I am weak. Today I did not have the strength to stand up to Sproing when he was pushing the limits. As I reflect on the day, I see what I should have done. But at the time, I could barely process what was happening, much less call him on his attitude.
They need better. I am not good enough. They are running amok. Bad things could happen. They are still young enough that, as parents, we are legally responsible for some of the shit they do.
I'm done in. I love them, I care about them, I want the best for them. I'm afraid that the best is not me. There are things I know I should do for them. Like charts. Charts are probably a good idea. I can't get my shit together enough to make a damned chart. We've done charts before. They might work for a few days, but it doesn't last. I think it doesn't last because I can't continue to enforce it. The more beat down I am, the more they defy me and figuratively shit on me, the less inclined I am to work with and for them.
They steal. They take my things without asking. They use my things and break them, seemingly on purpose sometimes. These kids take gifts that we've provided, then misuse, abuse, and break them. They lie. Sometimes I think they lie just for sport. I can't trust a thing they say. I don't bother asking questions anymore because I won't believe their answers. When this goes on long enough, I lose my ability to give a shit. Right now I care, but seem to be incapable of doing anything about it.
I don't know what else to say. There is nothing left. Nothing.
