I feel like screaming right now. How can a good evening turn sour so quickly? Tonight, after dinner, I sat on the couch cuddling with LittleG as EmCee sat in the kitchen entertaining his long time friend, Dee. (All names have been changed to protect identities). It was just past bedtime for LittleG and of course, the rowdiness kicks in – climbing on me, pulling my hair, tickling me – all in the name of fun – you know the last dance before the evening ends. So EmCee begins to walk past the TV as in saying (time for bed), and LittleG goofing around says, “I can push you.” and so he does… and EmCee says “Oh yea, well I can walk right through you.”
And so he does, only he accidentally knocks LittleG into the wooden and glass coffee table and LittleG’s head hits it so hard, I flew off the couch to carry him to the kitchen for an ice pack – immediately.
But no sooner than I can get my hands on ice, LittleG is screaming, “You don’t care about me. No one cares about me. My family doesn’t care about me, my friends don’t care about me.”
He goes running upstairs, but before he goes completely up, he pokes his head over the banister, “When I get older, I’m gonna blame you, like you blame me for everything.”
Words of a child. Not my words, even though later on, EmCee firmly stated to me that the only way a child would say that is if he heard it from me. No, my dear, EmCee, don’t be fooled by a child’s ability to perceive. He’s not dumb, nor is he stupid. He is quite smart and very well aware that you, EmCee, blame everything on everyone, but yourself.
It’s time to look in a mirror, EmCee.
After I comfort LittleG upstairs and finally get him to bed, I am fuming. Sure it was an accident, but EmCee’s behavior last night combined with tonight, was just a bit too much for me to take. So I broke.
But here’s a quick run down of last night (2/3/11) that kind of prompted tonight’s battle:
Last night, I called EmCee from the car and said, “I’m making meatloaf, mashed potatoes and carrots for dinner, is that alright?”
EmCee: “Why don’t you make meatballs and spaghetti?” (His favorite thing, but he would eat a whole box of spaghetti himself if i let him).
LittleG: But I want meatloaf!
EmCee: But you don’t eat meatloaf.
LittleG: But Mommy says it tastes like meatballs.
Me, to EmCee: It’s easier if I make meatloaf, its quicker. It’s late already and I have to pick up your mom. If I have to run to the store to get basil and sauce, its going to be very late by the time dinner is ready. Besides, I thought you liked meatloaf?
EmCee: “Fine, but make meatballs tomorrow when Dee comes over.”
(Sounds good so far right??”
At the dinner table:
EmCee sees LittleG picking at his meatloaf, “What’s the matter LittleG?”
LittleG: “Nothing” (quietly)
a few moments later, LittleG: “Mommy, this meatloaf tastes sour.”
Me: “Ok let me taste it.” (I taste it) “Its not sour, LittleG, that’s the way it tastes.”
LittleG: Well, I don’t like it.
EmCee: “You ruined my dinner. You RUINED dinner for everyone. It’s all because of YOU that Mommy made meatloaf. I wanted spaghetti.” (In his condescending, I am God tone).
How childish, EmCee is. I made EmCee apologize for his comment almost immediately, I refuse to sit there and watch my son be treated like that. I told him that just because LittleG is 6, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings. EmCee reluctantly apologized. It wasn’t until nearly midnight that EmCee told me that he realized he was wrong. But I don’t think EmCee actually understands the degree his words can scar LittleG.
Tonight, after bed.
I explained to EmCee that his words scar LittleG and I can’t take it anymore. I tell him that for 2 years we have been going on like this and its not improving. That I’m not happy. That we are two different people. That he would be happier with someone else to fuck. That I am not the same person anymore, I have changed. That I can’t take that every night there is an argument or a disagreement in the house. That I have to walk on eggshells to know if he’s in a good or bad mood. That I have to tell LittleG “Don’t do that, you may get Daddy angry.” That his temper can change on a drop of a dime, and we have to be little soldiers or he gets upset.
I told him “I will not tolerate your abuse anymore!”
“Well if you only played by the rules, I wouldn’t get upset.”
“Exactly, but who defines those rules? You do. You make the rules and we all have to abide by them. If I want to go to yoga, you talk me out of it, if I want to go to the mall, I can’t go alone. If I want to go out with my friends, you tell them just to stay here. Who makes these rules, I don’t”
“Well you don’t listen to me anyway… (goes off on a tirade of how he gives me all these “freedoms”, how he is a good father and always takes care of Gabe when I’m not around, etc…)
“EmCee I’m pointing out issues we are having. Instead of acknowledging them and trying to resolve them, once again, you are pointing out things LittleG and I do. You’re circumventing the real issues here. Why don’t you just take responsibility for once?”
“I don’t have any issues, but you do. Go sow your wild oats, go have your freedom and find yourself. If that’s what you want, just do it. Leave. As a matter of fact I’ll help you pack up. But be careful what you wish for.”
“Be careful what I wish for? That sounds like a threat.”
“No, that’s not a threat, just be careful what you wish for. But you’re going to regret it. You’re going to regret leaving me. This is a big mistake.”
(At this point, he takes his computer, and says goodnight and begins to walk upstairs)
“Are you just going to leave and not finish this discussion?”
“There’s nothing to discuss, I am done. You’re going to regret it.”
“But you won’t even acknowledge the issues or talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.
(I follow him upstairs and he takes LittleG to the potty. I get LittleG into his pajamas and EmCee proceeds to put headphones on and go to sleep. The conversation is done.)
What I realized tonight, is that all I ever wanted was for him to acknowledge his mistakes. But tonight, I realized he never will. He will never accept responsibility for his actions or words. And if that’s the case, there is nothing else I can do, except move on.