One of those bad times.
Things are getting crazy. I feel like I'm going crazy. I can't decide if my son's recent bad behavior is being caused by:
a) heredity
b) school environment
c) possible tummy ailment that has been going around
d) after-school-care environment (I determined that this is his last week in what passes for after-care at his school. His regular class is great. His after-care is awful. Problem is, there goes an hour off my me time. And this really isn't a good time to have my day shrunk - I might discuss at a later time exactly why this ain't good, but it's kinda TMI right now...)
e) stuff I've been doing wrong as seen through the eyes of others
f) irregularity of his religious school attendance (then again, he only has it every other week, as dictated by the schedule of the school itself. Not conducive to a good learning environment, really.)
g) "only-child syndrome"
h) ADHD or any other acronym that says "hyper as hell - Ritalin candidate so that underpaid, overworked teachers don't have to be aggravated by him"
i) too much TV and/or DVDs
j) imaginary friends, usually penguins or mice
k) he's just stubborn as all hell and is acting out in attention-getting ways - mostly negative - to try to get what he wants
l) (fill in your favorite child behavioral peeve here)
I haven't hated being mommy this much in a long time. Really, I haven't. I am in such a gawdamighty spin, I can't tell if he's exhibiting normal behavior for a five-year-old or if I really do need to have him tested for some sort of ailment, be it physical or psychological (or hell, maybe I need to be tested). I wanna go hide in a hole someplace. I wanna wring the neck of the next person who suggests my son needs a sibling. Most of all, I find myself craving...
Ye Olde Long Island Iced Tea.No, not for him. But, there is this possibility that if I have one or a few, things might change for the better for us all...
I developed a taste for this kitchen-sink beverage when I was still attending college and was of a legal drinking age. I kinda felt I had to order a schooner of one of 'em to offset the fact that, at the time, my boyfriend and I were regularly attending a seaside joint known as Shooters. It just seemed better for me to be sipping one of those babies rather than doing the sunburned yacht-hopper thing and diving into a gazillion pitchers of beer. It seemed to be...potentially...life-changing.
Long Island Iced Teas became my drink of choice at places like the Columns Hotel bar here, where I'd sip only one and the potency of the thing would be offset by the melting ice. I never overdid it...
...until the night before my wedding, when I downed three of 'em and my bridesmaids had to carry me home. I was fine the next day, amazingly enough. My wedding was wonderful. My husband is wonderful, and we are approaching our seventh anniversary next month. And I haven't had one since.
I'm reconsidering that, however, because I explored the life-changing properties of this drink one night without even taking a sip of it.
I had taken up a regular trip to a watering hole across the street from the art school I attended. It was largely in order to be sociable with a first-year grad student who seemed to be struggling with the head of the glass department and couldn't see why she should try to develop glassworking as an art when she wanted to focus on her skills (kinda goofy when you think about it). She liked hard cider. I'd have some beers. We'd talk over all kinds of stuff. At that bar, I observed an obsession on her part with those Nutrition Information labels on food and commented that she might want to think about that as a possible starting point for some conceptual work. She tried it and came up with some great stuff with potential, but she still wanted to keep up those hot glass skillz.
One night, I decided to take the plunge and go bottle-to-bottle with her with that hard cider. I was into the second bottle and was really feeling it. An ex-glassworking partner of mine had just come for a visit from her midwestern graduate program, and she walked into the bar and sat beside me. She was a gung-ho glass art-as-art woman. Ex-Glassworking Partner and First-Year Grad Student did NOT get along. I was sitting between the two of them. I was working on my third cider. A waitress/fellow art student walked by, tripped, and spilled some salt from her tray. I leaned back from the stool (and out of the argument that was brewing) and said the first words that came to mind: "To everything, there is a season."
The waitress/student took a second, then guffawed in appreciation of the comment. "Oh, my God, I almost missed that!"
Grinning stupidly, I leaned back into the bar to hear the beginnings of a rip-roaring argument from my two friends. It's an argument as old as time. In three words: Art vs. Craft. It was getting nasty. More than slightly drunk-nasty from one woman, totally ideologically righteous-nasty from the other. I'd finished the third cider. Things were swimming. Myopia was setting in. I was wishing that temporary deafness would set in, too. Both women were on the verge of taking their argument outside. The bartender passed by and asked if we wanted anything else.
"Yeah, a Long Island Iced Tea," I slurred.
"NO!" they both said at the same time, instantly cutting off their argument. Wow, I thought, they have been paying attention to something other than Paul Marioni vs Dante Marioni. That was the last coherent thought I had that night, other than telling some sculpture department grad students my address so that they could take me home. Heck, I don't even remember how I left the bar...
...but I do know that a drink that has that kind of power is a force to be reckoned with. It cannot be taken lightly (actually, taking one of those lightly is an impossibility) or misused. Neither can it be ordered frivolously.
I have never had hard cider since then, and don't intend to. However, it's been nearly seven years since I've had some of that potent iced tea...
Soooo, it's time for some whup-hide gumbo for those who tell me one more time:"Gee, your son is very energetic! Is he being treated for it?".
And afterwards, I'll be raising a glass of that there alcoholic witches brew in the hopes that it can work a teensy bit of its magic once again.
I developed a taste for this kitchen-sink beverage when I was still attending college and was of a legal drinking age. I kinda felt I had to order a schooner of one of 'em to offset the fact that, at the time, my boyfriend and I were regularly attending a seaside joint known as Shooters. It just seemed better for me to be sipping one of those babies rather than doing the sunburned yacht-hopper thing and diving into a gazillion pitchers of beer. It seemed to be...potentially...life-changing.
Long Island Iced Teas became my drink of choice at places like the Columns Hotel bar here, where I'd sip only one and the potency of the thing would be offset by the melting ice. I never overdid it...
...until the night before my wedding, when I downed three of 'em and my bridesmaids had to carry me home. I was fine the next day, amazingly enough. My wedding was wonderful. My husband is wonderful, and we are approaching our seventh anniversary next month. And I haven't had one since.
I'm reconsidering that, however, because I explored the life-changing properties of this drink one night without even taking a sip of it.
I had taken up a regular trip to a watering hole across the street from the art school I attended. It was largely in order to be sociable with a first-year grad student who seemed to be struggling with the head of the glass department and couldn't see why she should try to develop glassworking as an art when she wanted to focus on her skills (kinda goofy when you think about it). She liked hard cider. I'd have some beers. We'd talk over all kinds of stuff. At that bar, I observed an obsession on her part with those Nutrition Information labels on food and commented that she might want to think about that as a possible starting point for some conceptual work. She tried it and came up with some great stuff with potential, but she still wanted to keep up those hot glass skillz.
One night, I decided to take the plunge and go bottle-to-bottle with her with that hard cider. I was into the second bottle and was really feeling it. An ex-glassworking partner of mine had just come for a visit from her midwestern graduate program, and she walked into the bar and sat beside me. She was a gung-ho glass art-as-art woman. Ex-Glassworking Partner and First-Year Grad Student did NOT get along. I was sitting between the two of them. I was working on my third cider. A waitress/fellow art student walked by, tripped, and spilled some salt from her tray. I leaned back from the stool (and out of the argument that was brewing) and said the first words that came to mind: "To everything, there is a season."
The waitress/student took a second, then guffawed in appreciation of the comment. "Oh, my God, I almost missed that!"
Grinning stupidly, I leaned back into the bar to hear the beginnings of a rip-roaring argument from my two friends. It's an argument as old as time. In three words: Art vs. Craft. It was getting nasty. More than slightly drunk-nasty from one woman, totally ideologically righteous-nasty from the other. I'd finished the third cider. Things were swimming. Myopia was setting in. I was wishing that temporary deafness would set in, too. Both women were on the verge of taking their argument outside. The bartender passed by and asked if we wanted anything else.
"Yeah, a Long Island Iced Tea," I slurred.
"NO!" they both said at the same time, instantly cutting off their argument. Wow, I thought, they have been paying attention to something other than Paul Marioni vs Dante Marioni. That was the last coherent thought I had that night, other than telling some sculpture department grad students my address so that they could take me home. Heck, I don't even remember how I left the bar...
...but I do know that a drink that has that kind of power is a force to be reckoned with. It cannot be taken lightly (actually, taking one of those lightly is an impossibility) or misused. Neither can it be ordered frivolously.
I have never had hard cider since then, and don't intend to. However, it's been nearly seven years since I've had some of that potent iced tea...
Soooo, it's time for some whup-hide gumbo for those who tell me one more time:"Gee, your son is very energetic! Is he being treated for it?".
And afterwards, I'll be raising a glass of that there alcoholic witches brew in the hopes that it can work a teensy bit of its magic once again.
12 comments:
Take it easy on yourself as a parent. That would eliminate (at least) A, E, F, and G.
Does he respond to reasonable approaches from you regarding basic requests and consequences if he doesn't respond?
We've got four kids. Our first was/is the tough case, and it took us years to figure that out. It actually took having the three others to realize: "Hey, it doesn't have to be that hard, does it?"
The Long Island Teas are a good option, but only late at night after you've explored the stuff like testing and such.
Aftercare? It's always good to question aftercare.
Great to see you yesterday at the Dr. Morris Fest. And it was a Fest.
I feel your pain and all I can really think of to say is this: my son is responsible for all children being barred from the Maple Leaf. (They used to let the whole kids-in-bars thing slide for the Sunday afternoon poetry reading/music thing until he started beating people up with drum sticks.)
I think I had the same list of possible attributions as you do. But by some miracle, Alex soon mellowed a LOT and became easier to deal with most of the time. Apparently he went from ADHD to just ADD, but he still managed to find his way into gifted/talented classes and eventually to Ben Franklin.
So don't despair too much. This may pass sooner than you think.
I just decided that it's all a "pay now/pay later" thing. Boys can wear you out with this kind of stuff when they're little but, from my observations, it seems most of them get easier as they get older whereas girls are easier in the beginning, but *look out* when they get to their teens. Rachel will be 12 this summer. Pray for me. And I'll do the same for you as you move through this fun phase of bringing up the little guy.
I think it's settled then. We have to go out for drinks. I'll drink the Long Island if I must.
Granted, I have yet to experience the reality of age 5, but we've found that with every developmental leap comes a regression. Maybe TLG is about to surge ahead with something major (new strides in reading, speaking, understanding?) and is taking those few steps back to make the big jump?
I also am working on a theory that children have a bit of a sadist streak (evens out all that sweetness) and get extra delight over driving parents to the brink of sanity. Of course, this could just be my children. I *knew* I shouldn't have even considered the name Damion! :-)
Poor t'ing bless yer heart. Goodness gracious did my mother go t'ru this? Probably. Anyway, all'yall closest need to watch out for da'Grieflin...get'ya every time.
I agree with Clio, but (having failed those tests myself:) before you spend all the money testing, you might try stimulus/response: when he balks or outright defies you, then hit him with a pie in the face. A little one, chicken pot-pie size. I would suggest his favorite flavor.
It worked for me.
Funerals are hard on kids. I lost my mother at about his age. From what I gather he lost a pretty Big Padna too soooo...jus'sayin:)
Editilla
Hey Lippy, that imaginary friend thing... not to worry... when I was 12, I murdered mine.
Now, what really caught my attention is that "art class" you were going to.
Were their any naked hot girl models and if so, do they allow camcorders?????
Lip - I do not have a whole lot to add other than saying I agree with the previous commenters. Perhaps it would be helpful to know at what level your husband thinks the child is. He may be seeing it a little differently.
I once had to cut back my then 4 year old's preschool days. I had her in 5 days a week for 3 or 4 hours a day so I could get things done. She started faking illness (at 4). She just didn't want to be there that often. She's okay now, but like lisapal said, she's getting tougher and moodier and more explosive as she gets older (nearing 10) while my son who was a HANDFUL has mellowed as he approaches 13.
I think it is always a tough job no matter what. For what it is worth, when I had PPD after 8 months of screaming colic with my first child, my doctor recommended a light cocktail at 5pm. He called it the arsenic hour (when you want to put arsenic in people's food!).
Ty Pennington had (um, still has) ADHD. Maybe you could put the little guy to work on some post-Katrina jobs in the New Orleans area and get him his own TV show.
All kidding aside and from an educator's viewpoint, I am sure that I don't have to tell you diagnosis is the first step. Take him to be evaluated and then explore all your treatment options carefully.
If all else fails, I'll stop by for a visit next time I am home, but I would need to imbibe a few Hurricanes in the French Quarter.
And, on another note, I had 4 imaginary friends growing up, and I turned out relatively normal.
Thanks for the support, folks! And D-BB, the models really weren't all that hot - it didn't matter whether they were men or women.
I have got some options. The little guy's teacher recommended somebody for me to consult about getting him tested - but I think he just really hates the after care. His regular teachers have even hinted to me that it isn't the greatest program - at the same time they have told me that the kid is doing really well in class. His head teacher has said that she's grateful that I take him home from the after care after a 45-minute period and don't leave him there for two hours or so.
I think he just likes a stable environment and can't take major changes too well.
It still doesn't change the fact that, damn it, I still need that alcoholic beverage at the end of my days lately...Holly, we need to talk. Seriously. Perhaps when Ms Cajunvegan comes on down from that dry-as-bones Sin City, we can all take a swim in some schooners someplace.
Sorry you feel driven to drink. I so know the feeling. And my first LI ice tea caused me to sleep through the theatrical showing of "Full Metal Jacket." You are right: that drink should NOT be contemplated frivolously.
Hang in there! Stress is a powerful force!!
I feel you on this one! My little one's behavior has left me seriously doubting my parenting skills lately. It's just soooo hard. So hard.
I'll join you for a drink in, ohh, about 14 weeks.
All great advice, Lip, and do not feel ashamed about needing that afternoon drink. Shit, are there people who parent without such? What kind of Stepford folk are they?
I'll tell you I had mine tested and she grew out of most everything the teachers/schools/psychologists were "concerned" about. The other school problem stuff, she's got a legitimate beef with school as it is and I don't lie to her about it because I have a beef, too. It's easier to do that when they are older. School is a lot for kids that age to take and even a wonderful school can be too damn much for a 5-year old. Take him out of aftercare and make up for that me hour with a Long Island Ice Tea lovingly made and savored with your feet up.
Actually, I'm going with some Jockamo IPA. These days, I loves me some beer.
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