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| Seven is too early to be Emo. Image from here. |
Those of you who’ve been stopping by to graze on a little
slice of crazy here for a while will know that I’m not much of a Parent Blogger*.
However, I feel compelled, given current circumstances, to ask
some questions about parenthood.
Questions like:
What the ever-loving FUCK was I thinking?
And:
Where the hell is the receipt for this child, I need to
return him NOW?
I’m asking those questions because, dear readers, someone
has taken my child and replaced him with a teenager.
That would be OK**, except he’s seven, not fifteen.
He’s always been difficult, often badly-behaved and
generally challenging. He’s also always been easy to love, funny, crazy and
sweet. And we’ve always been able to influence his behaviour with privilege-removal-based
punishments.
Since starting Grade 3, he’s turned into a surly, sneaky, smart-arsed,
argumentative, obstructive, Emo teenager. And our standard punishments have stopped
working.
“Well what did you THINK I wanted?”
“Don’t do that again or you’ll be in big TROUBLE.”
“No I won’t do X. I don’t care what you do.”
“Of COURSE that’s what I said, what are you, DEAF?!”
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME!”
Oh, the unfettered joy.
The sarcasm gene has suddenly switched on in the six weeks
since Christmas. Thanks Santa, you can take THAT little present back and shove
it right up your sack.
Let's not forget the mess. The couch, the floor, the bed are all apparently rubbish bins. And every surface in the house is a potential tissue. Euuurrrghhhh.
I love my son with frightening depth and ferocity. But the
other day he was shitting me to almost-tears so much with his Emo bullshit*** that I seriously considered getting a cab to check
in to the nearest hotel just to GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM.
I can’t help feeling he’s peaked too early. If he’s like
this now, what will teenagerdom**** be like?
Will I have to emigrate to avoid strangling him?
It’s taking a lot of deep breathing and calm-blue-sea to
deal with the person he is right now. This is how I felt when I woke up this
morning:
* I don’t like using the term Mummy Blogger. That's an odd term
applied, apparently, to those women who’ve spawned, and who also blog. I avoid it because
it’s used – in the press in particular – as a put-down.
** Yes I know it won’t be OK at all once he really IS a
teenager
*** Before anyone imagines I've had amnesia or suddenly become an idiot, yes I know I was a Goth. I was polite and sensible about it though, and waited till my late teens.
**** That is SO a word. Shut-up or I’ll send my child to your
house for a week. Actually, can I send my child to your house for a week? Alternatively I'll come and he can stay home. I can pay my rent in wine.
HAVE YOU EVER WANTED TO MOVE OUT
TO AVOID A SMALL HOUSEMATE
WHO SHARES YOUR DNA?
WHAT DID YOU DO?
TO AVOID A SMALL HOUSEMATE
WHO SHARES YOUR DNA?
WHAT DID YOU DO?
