What do you do when you see your worst characteristics exemplified in your child? Really, I love my boy, but I'm not always liking him these days. An eleven year old boy is naked emotion ready to battle, or mine is anyway. The worst of it is when you see yourself springing to life before your own eyes, hitting every wrong note you ever sang for him.
See, I married a quiet man who thinks before he speaks. His lectures are short. "Don't do that." He's diplomatic, caring, helpful, and usually wise. Mike's greatest fault is letting Nick get away with too much and I hate having to be the bad guy too often.
I shouldn't be talking about these verboten subjects. Moms aren't supposed to admit that we get angry, that we yell, or that we don't have as much empathy as we want to have. Wives aren't supposed to sulk when we bear the burden of homework, teeth brushing, rules, enforcing chores, and cleaning up after everyone else, even if it is our only current employment.
See, this is all crap, or maybe it's the scary truth, and I can't publish it. I can't admit to my foibles, not even to the ether. There are some real people out there in the ether. What will you think of me now?
I yelled at Nick today when we were picking up debris from our yard. It is an overwhelming project, cutting up the thirteen trees that fell during the ice storm. Nick was goofing off when we really needed his help. Then, after I yelled at him, he used the old cramp routine to get out of doing any useful work. Is he going to be that guy on the camping trip that never washes a dish, makes a meal, or collects wood for the fire? I hated that guy. You know who I'm talking about. Then, I yelled at Nick for whipping a forsythia branch too close to the dog. When I was a kid, I got spanked with a forsythia branch. I'm not entirely sure why I even have one in my yard. "You can take an eye out with that thing," came to mind, but I wasn't feeling that nice. He'd been playing with Teddy, but then he was swinging this reed around so that it made that whizzing sound that you just know is going to hurt when it makes contact. Then later, I yelled at Nick for trying to scare the dog out of the spot on the couch he'd just vacated. I really don't like anyone in my house, even pets, to feel like they're going to get hit. But what about yelling? Isn't that attempt to not-quite-physically push the dog a simple metaphor for the way I not-quite-physically push Nick when I yell? I'm not trying to tell you it's okay to let a boy get away with doing something that could hurt someone or even to let him evade his fair share of the work. Yet, couldn't I have been a bit nicer when I did it?
Okay, here's the deal. Mike rarely yells at Nick. It's like he channels a psychologist. "Now, how did that make you feel?" I react more quickly and, would I call it firmly or just shrewish? Sometimes, when I've been gone all day and Mike has been with Nick, I see him resort to more of the crabby retorts. It always makes me feel a little relieved, that even my mild-mannered kind-hearted guy can get ruffled.
Plus, I wonder just how many of the essential things would get done if I used my nice voice all of the time. "Now, Nickie, don't shoot your rocket at the dog, sweetheart." Okay, I've never had to say that to Nick. Would it be effective if I always used my nice voice? Would I be rearing that guy who cuts in line at the coffee shop, treats the barista like she's a servant, and then gets into his Porsche and drives on the shoulder to get ahead in the traffic? I hate that guy too. I have to remember that I never get reports from people that Nick acts that way at school. People say he's very sweet and well mannered.
A long time ago, I read in parenting book that you should use your nice voice, but if you have to repeat yourself, there should be consequences, preferably natural consequences. Oh, isn't it just peachy when it works out that way. It was probably written by someone who had never been a parent. When I think of how I'd sound doing that, I get a little nauseated. I can't even make myself sound like Mike. It comes naturally for him. Not so much for me. It figures that Nick would emulate me more than his dad.
So the question I'd like to answer is this - does some yelling do that much harm? All I need to do to see the answer to that question is to look at the way Nick treats his dog. Most of the time, Nick does okay with his dog. He just needs to be a bit more gentle. Go figure.
Thank you for listening, jb
See, I married a quiet man who thinks before he speaks. His lectures are short. "Don't do that." He's diplomatic, caring, helpful, and usually wise. Mike's greatest fault is letting Nick get away with too much and I hate having to be the bad guy too often.
I shouldn't be talking about these verboten subjects. Moms aren't supposed to admit that we get angry, that we yell, or that we don't have as much empathy as we want to have. Wives aren't supposed to sulk when we bear the burden of homework, teeth brushing, rules, enforcing chores, and cleaning up after everyone else, even if it is our only current employment.
See, this is all crap, or maybe it's the scary truth, and I can't publish it. I can't admit to my foibles, not even to the ether. There are some real people out there in the ether. What will you think of me now?
I yelled at Nick today when we were picking up debris from our yard. It is an overwhelming project, cutting up the thirteen trees that fell during the ice storm. Nick was goofing off when we really needed his help. Then, after I yelled at him, he used the old cramp routine to get out of doing any useful work. Is he going to be that guy on the camping trip that never washes a dish, makes a meal, or collects wood for the fire? I hated that guy. You know who I'm talking about. Then, I yelled at Nick for whipping a forsythia branch too close to the dog. When I was a kid, I got spanked with a forsythia branch. I'm not entirely sure why I even have one in my yard. "You can take an eye out with that thing," came to mind, but I wasn't feeling that nice. He'd been playing with Teddy, but then he was swinging this reed around so that it made that whizzing sound that you just know is going to hurt when it makes contact. Then later, I yelled at Nick for trying to scare the dog out of the spot on the couch he'd just vacated. I really don't like anyone in my house, even pets, to feel like they're going to get hit. But what about yelling? Isn't that attempt to not-quite-physically push the dog a simple metaphor for the way I not-quite-physically push Nick when I yell? I'm not trying to tell you it's okay to let a boy get away with doing something that could hurt someone or even to let him evade his fair share of the work. Yet, couldn't I have been a bit nicer when I did it?
Okay, here's the deal. Mike rarely yells at Nick. It's like he channels a psychologist. "Now, how did that make you feel?" I react more quickly and, would I call it firmly or just shrewish? Sometimes, when I've been gone all day and Mike has been with Nick, I see him resort to more of the crabby retorts. It always makes me feel a little relieved, that even my mild-mannered kind-hearted guy can get ruffled.
Plus, I wonder just how many of the essential things would get done if I used my nice voice all of the time. "Now, Nickie, don't shoot your rocket at the dog, sweetheart." Okay, I've never had to say that to Nick. Would it be effective if I always used my nice voice? Would I be rearing that guy who cuts in line at the coffee shop, treats the barista like she's a servant, and then gets into his Porsche and drives on the shoulder to get ahead in the traffic? I hate that guy too. I have to remember that I never get reports from people that Nick acts that way at school. People say he's very sweet and well mannered.
A long time ago, I read in parenting book that you should use your nice voice, but if you have to repeat yourself, there should be consequences, preferably natural consequences. Oh, isn't it just peachy when it works out that way. It was probably written by someone who had never been a parent. When I think of how I'd sound doing that, I get a little nauseated. I can't even make myself sound like Mike. It comes naturally for him. Not so much for me. It figures that Nick would emulate me more than his dad.
So the question I'd like to answer is this - does some yelling do that much harm? All I need to do to see the answer to that question is to look at the way Nick treats his dog. Most of the time, Nick does okay with his dog. He just needs to be a bit more gentle. Go figure.
Thank you for listening, jb
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