I’m not sure who acts like more of a child sometimes, my 42 year old husband or my 6 year old son. Actually, I think my 6 year old is more mature sometimes than my husband. Tonight, he did it again. Not LittleG, EmCee of course!
And of course, EmCee’s behavior was justified because it was a result of our son’s actions and my (emotional, bitchy period) reactions.
I came home after a long day of work, and immediately headed to the kitchen to cook dinner. Funny how I’m married to a husband who has a degree in Culinary Science and yet, never cooks a meal!
I told LittleG, “You’ve watched TV and played video games all day at Mommy’s store, now it’s time to sit down and do your homework. THEN you can watch TV.”
(Put on repeat 3x times)
Finally, LittleG sat down at the kitchen table to do his homework (1 math worksheet & 1 grammar worksheet). I assumed EmCee would help him, but again EmCee is too busy to be bothered as he sat there plastered to his computer, glancing over at LittleG’s papers.
“That S is sloppy. It looks like an upside down 5. You’ve had an S in your last name for 6 years now, and you’ve been writing it for 2 years. Fix it.”
(Oh here we go again, I thought to myself as I prepped the potatoes and green beans).
“That S still doesn’t look right. Fix it. Is there something the matter with you? Don’t you care about your homework?” (Insert condescending, demeaning voice rising to near yelling levels).
Now, EmCee goes off into a tirade. Obviously, LittleG still didn’t fix what Daddy wanted. (As if Daddy should talk with his chicken scratch handwriting. Give me a break, the kid is 6 and his handwriting is good for a 6 yr old!)
“If you don’t care, then I DON’T CARE!”
EmCee picks up Little G’s folder, homework notebook, grammar workbook and THROWS them across the room. “Since you don’t care, I DON’T CARE!”
I unfortunately, can’t stand his bullshit anymore and immediately step up to him. Someone needs to protect LittleG. “Who’s the child here, him or you? What kind of example are you showing him by throwing his books? This is the second time in a month you’ve thrown something at him to prove your point and I’m not going to tolerate it.”
“Oh, see, now you’ve got your mother on your side.” (As LittleG starts hysterical crying).
“Mommy will you please help me finish my homework?” He asks quietly, not wanting to upset his father. I tell him to sit down calmly and we will finish it.
Homework is finished, but I’m not finished with EmCee. As soon as LittleG is out of the room, I immediately rip into him.
“You’re such a bad father sometimes. What kind of example are you showing him? Don’t you remember when your mother threw pea soup at you – it scarred you for life.”
“Yea, but I needed it I was acting like an asshole. LittleG was acting like an asshole just now, making a jerk out of me. He needed to be taught a lesson. I needed to make a point and sometimes you need to make a point!” (pause) “I hate you for calling me a bad father, I AM NOT A BAD FATHER!”
(Calling him this always hits a nerve, because his own dad abandoned him).
“Oh, what am I going to regret saying that? (Insert sarcasm here, as I referred to one of our prior arguments when he told me I was going to regret it) Why because I’m a woman, I shouldn’t open my mouth? Am I supposed to stand here and let you abuse my son?”
“It’s not abuse, he was making a jerk off out of me. I was making a point.”
(Yea, that you’re an asshole).
“You shouldn’t throw things. You’re teaching him that it is OK to throw things when he is angry or when things aren’t going his way. And you wonder why we are having behavioral problems with him in school.”
“Oh, you should talk. Mother of the year. How many times do you raise your voice and yell at him?”
“But I never throw things. And I never hit him. I’m not sarcastic or condescending to him. We all yell at our kids sometimes EmCee, it happens. But that doesn’t make me a bad parent.”
Of course, as soon as you point out his mistakes or flaws, he can “never take the hit” as he calls it. He will never accept blame. He always turns it around on everyone else and makes sure to point out their flaws. His behavior is always justified. His behavior is always perfect. He’s allowed to because he’s “the man” of the house. We should respect him.
I knew the conversation was only going to get worse. So I decided not to add any more fuel to the fire. I let it be and ended the argument like this:
“Well if if my behavior is that flawed, I would welcome someone pointing out to me my mistakes so that I can correct them. No one is perfect, not even me. So next time you feel that I am being the bad parent, why don’t you tell me.”
And I’m sure he will. He will savor every moment letting me know how screwed up a parent I am. Now, I just have to make sure I don’t give him the opportunity to do so.