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"I don't even know what just happened." said Jake as we approached his school this morning, with me in a huff and he in confused defiance.
Hmmm. Well, let's see. First of all, we are still getting into the grove of the early school risings. Secondly, you got pissed at me because you wanted to sleep another 30 seconds. I needed you to either get up now, get dressed, then have your free time or sleep while I shower, then get up, get dressed and have no free time. Pretty simple. Not so simple when you don't like the choices, though. When you understood that I said to get up now, that you didn't have as much time as you'd like to putter around your new Facebook account or play a game, you verbally attacked me and closed the door in my face, leaving me in your hot and messy room. After taking a deep breath, I followed you down the hall, where you then closed and locked the bathroom door.
As this is a one-bathroom house and I am now behind in my shower schedule, plus this is not respectable or acceptable behavior, I knocked lightly with a closed fist (so as to not get dad involved just yet) and demanded that you open it. Then we spent another five minutes discussing what time we get up and what time we need to leave. I gave you the choice to stand there and keep talking about it, or get dressed and have free time. I told you to set your own alarm clock so you wouldn't be affected by my pushing the snooze button. I got it out of the bottom cupboard in the bathroom where I keep it until needed (to be my backup alarm on early mornings after late nights). I told you to take it into your room and that I would help you set it if you needed it. You left it. You also left your clothes on the bathroom floor.
Once I showered (and repeated a calm song on my ipod four times), I went in your room and asked you to pick up your clothes from the bathroom floor. You did so, sighing. You still left the alarm clock in the bathroom.
By then my feelings were hurt and I was mad. I hate starting the day in a confrontational manner. I hate feeling like I did you a favor that backfired.
"Brush your hair." I called out as I noticed your messy mop. "I'm going to wear my beanie." Like we haven't had this discussion before. "Brush it anyway." I retorted. "And say goodbye to dad." I was through making breakfast and getting it all into the car. "Did you sign my papers?" you asked. "The ones you didn't get out for me yesterday?" was my response. "Get them out in the car and I'll sign them."
While sitting in the car, in our driveway, with 20 minutes to get you to school and me to school, which will get me there, but I'll now have to sit in the car line of parents before parking and I wish to avoid, you get out the papers. One of them is a survey about next year's summer schedule and coinciding it with the high school. I explain it to you, to get your opinion. You don't get it. I explain it again. You turn off the quiet radio and ask me to explain it again. By the fourth time, you have an opinion. It coincides with mine. I sign it and give it back.
"Jake, I want us to remember the rule about you showing me all your papers every afternoon before you have free time." You're not really listening again. You hear just enough to argue. You say I'm yelling. (Really??? You want to hear an example of me yelling? Keep it up!!!) I take off up the street in the car, driving just a little aggressively because I'm pissed. You comment. I am silent. Two blocks from home I realize we forgot to pack your snack and water bottle. This is something else that needs to be done in the afternoons, starting now. I offer you the backup protein bar in my middle console. You decline. I hope the lack of food and the emotionally bumpy morning doesn't cause the rest of the day to suck for you.
So, you don't know what just happened? I feel you have been picking and snarking and arguing with me all morning and it's been less than an hour since I gently woke you up with a calm voice and a backrub.
"I'm going to draw this." You say as I drop you off. (Yes, I said that I loved you, and yes, you said it back.) "You do that." I say. I mean it. You draw awesomely and I support self-expression, especially of frustration and confusion. (It's the reason I write!!!) "You're not going to like it." you say. "I didn't like this morning, so if you draw about it, it makes sense that I won't like it." I say. We both smile a little. I watch you start up the steps. I drive off to wait in car line.
Love you, Bub. Sorry if I don't make myself clear. I'll help you set your alarm and you can get up when you want, within reason, of course. Thank you for your apologies. I accept them.
xoxo
Hmmm. Well, let's see. First of all, we are still getting into the grove of the early school risings. Secondly, you got pissed at me because you wanted to sleep another 30 seconds. I needed you to either get up now, get dressed, then have your free time or sleep while I shower, then get up, get dressed and have no free time. Pretty simple. Not so simple when you don't like the choices, though. When you understood that I said to get up now, that you didn't have as much time as you'd like to putter around your new Facebook account or play a game, you verbally attacked me and closed the door in my face, leaving me in your hot and messy room. After taking a deep breath, I followed you down the hall, where you then closed and locked the bathroom door.
As this is a one-bathroom house and I am now behind in my shower schedule, plus this is not respectable or acceptable behavior, I knocked lightly with a closed fist (so as to not get dad involved just yet) and demanded that you open it. Then we spent another five minutes discussing what time we get up and what time we need to leave. I gave you the choice to stand there and keep talking about it, or get dressed and have free time. I told you to set your own alarm clock so you wouldn't be affected by my pushing the snooze button. I got it out of the bottom cupboard in the bathroom where I keep it until needed (to be my backup alarm on early mornings after late nights). I told you to take it into your room and that I would help you set it if you needed it. You left it. You also left your clothes on the bathroom floor.
Once I showered (and repeated a calm song on my ipod four times), I went in your room and asked you to pick up your clothes from the bathroom floor. You did so, sighing. You still left the alarm clock in the bathroom.
By then my feelings were hurt and I was mad. I hate starting the day in a confrontational manner. I hate feeling like I did you a favor that backfired.
"Brush your hair." I called out as I noticed your messy mop. "I'm going to wear my beanie." Like we haven't had this discussion before. "Brush it anyway." I retorted. "And say goodbye to dad." I was through making breakfast and getting it all into the car. "Did you sign my papers?" you asked. "The ones you didn't get out for me yesterday?" was my response. "Get them out in the car and I'll sign them."
While sitting in the car, in our driveway, with 20 minutes to get you to school and me to school, which will get me there, but I'll now have to sit in the car line of parents before parking and I wish to avoid, you get out the papers. One of them is a survey about next year's summer schedule and coinciding it with the high school. I explain it to you, to get your opinion. You don't get it. I explain it again. You turn off the quiet radio and ask me to explain it again. By the fourth time, you have an opinion. It coincides with mine. I sign it and give it back.
"Jake, I want us to remember the rule about you showing me all your papers every afternoon before you have free time." You're not really listening again. You hear just enough to argue. You say I'm yelling. (Really??? You want to hear an example of me yelling? Keep it up!!!) I take off up the street in the car, driving just a little aggressively because I'm pissed. You comment. I am silent. Two blocks from home I realize we forgot to pack your snack and water bottle. This is something else that needs to be done in the afternoons, starting now. I offer you the backup protein bar in my middle console. You decline. I hope the lack of food and the emotionally bumpy morning doesn't cause the rest of the day to suck for you.
So, you don't know what just happened? I feel you have been picking and snarking and arguing with me all morning and it's been less than an hour since I gently woke you up with a calm voice and a backrub.
"I'm going to draw this." You say as I drop you off. (Yes, I said that I loved you, and yes, you said it back.) "You do that." I say. I mean it. You draw awesomely and I support self-expression, especially of frustration and confusion. (It's the reason I write!!!) "You're not going to like it." you say. "I didn't like this morning, so if you draw about it, it makes sense that I won't like it." I say. We both smile a little. I watch you start up the steps. I drive off to wait in car line.
Love you, Bub. Sorry if I don't make myself clear. I'll help you set your alarm and you can get up when you want, within reason, of course. Thank you for your apologies. I accept them.
xoxo
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