When I was pregnant with my son, I felt like I was floating on a marshmallow cloud of motherly bliss. I had already been blessed with my perfect little princess and I also had a beautiful stepdaughter but I wanted my handsome little prince more than anything I had ever wanted in my life. Life was finally complete. There’s just something about giving a man his “little man” that makes you feel…. like a fucking winner. It’s a hard feeling to describe, truly. I know it sounds a bit mean even, but believe me, it’s not like that. The girls run his life. It was just one of those you had to be there type of feelings. And by there I mean, inside of me. And by inside of me (this isn’t going as planned) I mean like, in my soul’s soul. That’s fucking deep inside of me. Ok then! Shall we?
Fast forward to 6 years later and the kid is up for grabs. Who wants him!? I’m kidding. I would die first. And then you’d have to call the ghostbusters to suck my ghost into some fancy schmancy ghost-machine and keep me trapped there for all of eternity because even after I die, you don’t mess with my kids. I will protect them in this life and the next. Like most qualified moms, I live this life purely for my kids. Without them, what’s the point?! But seriously, who wants him… going once… going twice…
going chicken soup with rice going Xanax and whiskey over ice!
I’m not sure whether this post is rant, a cry for help, or an attempt to salvage the last few bits of my sanity but I’m open to all of your opinions, criticisms, alcohol suggestions, PTA donations, psych referrals, whatever. Bring it Susans.
These last few months have been unbelievable. You see…Joey, aka “JJ” is my 6 year old first grader who woke up on the “fuck this shit, I own this bitch and everyone in it” side of the bed a few months ago- come the new school year, to be exact.
I’m not sure what went wrong because he really had a wonderful kindergarten year! Though he’s always been a bit beyond his years as far as his way with words (proceed to Exhibit A) and the way he carries himself- hands in pocket, back straight, chin up (proceed to Exhibit B), he’s always been a relatively sweet, independent, and well behaved boy.
Now. The nitty gritty. To answer the same boring questions literally everyone keeps asking me…
- Nothing has changed.
- We have not moved.
- We have not changed our routines.
- He has been in the same school since he was 4.
- The hubby and I haven’t had an argument outside of “what do you want to eat” in ages.
- My household has a strict “30 minutes of iPad/computer” per day.
- My kids aren’t allowed to watch any stupid fucking rich-for-nothing YouTubers.
- The kid in question takes out all garbages and works outside with his dad doing any and everything even oil changes, installing radios in cars, working on motors, painting, whatever his dad is doing in the yard, he’s doing it too.
- He also does laundry and dishes and whatever the fuck I ask. There is no discrimination of chores.
- Diet was a problem so I’ve cut out
allmost sugary drinks and junk food.
- He’s had everything taken away. That shit don’t faze (phase? him) I don’t have time to google check that term. You know what I mean.
- I don’t physically discipline my kids. Now isn’t the time for the traumatized childhood talk about why I won’t hit them.
- I’ve had PLENTY of talks with him.
But even still, suddenly he’s the cafeteria clown-bully throwing food across the room and squirting pre-k kids with ketchup packets! Suddenly he’s disrupting his teachers on purpose and tossing pencils. Suddenly he’s saying NO and refusing to follow instructions. Suddenly he has an attack and throws a desk and kicks chairs in the middle of a Spanish lesson! And I just do not know and cannot even!
He is nothing like this at home. Sometimes I almost don’t believe half this shit because it’s so out of his typical character that it makes zero sense! Who is this kid they’re talking about!? I can’t discipline him for things I’m not witnessing! This is not my child they’re describing. Damn it!
Holy shit. Maybe he’s schizophrenic. Shut up Ely.
Then. I get a call from a counselor while I’m at work a few weeks ago. And I literally answered the phone like
-WHAT did he do NOW!? (Super rude Ely. Super..)
-Um hi yes is this Joey’s mom?
-yes. (insert long sigh) what did he do? This is so exhausting.
-No! Nothing like that this time I’m (whatever her name was) the school counselor and I’m calling to let you know that’s he’s been referred to GIFTED
–(insert confused facial expression and long pause) what?! Gifted?! Well THAT explains a lot.
So ok. My kid isn’t being challenged. He’s bored. Clearly. But that’s not a good enough excuse or explanation for his behavior. I’m not satisfied with oh ok my son is an asshole because he’s gifted!
Nope. Something’s gotta give. But I’ve exhausted my options outside of behavioral counseling. I’ve tried punishment I’ve tried positive reinforcement I’ve tried talking I’ve tried screaming I’ve tried threatening to disappear forever I’ve tried reverse psychology I’ve tried bribing him. You name it.
Sooooo yea this is the part where I conclude that this was a rant mixed with a cry for help. But mostly it’s a straight up cry for help.
SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS A PHASE. Or send all the fucking Whiskey and a good luck balloon.