I know I haven’t posted in a long time. I think about posting but after having been gone so long, it feels like such a major undertaking. But I miss it, and I think about writing all the time.
And today I’m pissed, so I guess that’s enough to get me over my barrier.
Let me start with a little background info…
My six year old has always been…sensitive. He’s very easily frustrated, he hates to be distracted or interrupted, he always has to be moving and touching things, his emotional responses are very big. He’s a charming, smart, funny, engaging kid when he’s happy or excited, but he’s violent and full of huge rage when he’s mad. And generally, he’s more happy than mad, but when he gets mad, it definitely stands out.
Around January or so, his anger started getting out of control. He would get angry because, say, an intricate drawing he was making did not turn out exactly right, so he’d tear it up, throw it down, and if any kid tried to talk to him, he’d hit and yell at them, and when his teacher tried to intervene, he’d kick her and spit at her. As you might imagine, this got old quite quickly. I did everything I could think of — gave him more one-on-one time at home, started taking him to a counselor, took him to his pediatrician to check for physiological issues, etc. — but nothing seemed to make a difference and he only escalated. I was getting calls from the school on a daily basis, he got suspended, I had to attend endless meetings about how to deal with his behavior. At first it was only at school, but then he started acting up at home too. It seemed like he was perpetually angry. Everything set him off and nothing could calm him down.
Both his teacher and his counselor suggested to me that his anger was actually a mask for his deep sadness and confusion over being abandoned by his dad, especially since this anger had started shortly after he saw his dad at Christmas, and I certainly felt that was a reasonable suggestion. Before Christmas, it had been a year since he saw his dad and his only contact with him since was via phone calls that my six year old (who was then four and five) had to initiate. Even when he visited at Christmas, he promised both boys he’d come and see them again before he left, but never did.
Despite my deep dread of doing so (because all this is surely the fault of my terrible, terrible parenting, not anything he did), I finally decided to contact him and explain what was happening and that our six year old really needed to hear from him, really needed him to call on a regular basis (and for him to be the one to initiate the calls) in order to convince him that yes, his dad actually does love and care about him. He replied with lots of thinly veiled suggestions that this is, indeed, all my fault, but agreed to call him every other day.
His (more or less) every-other-day lasted for maybe two weeks and then abruptly stopped with no explanation. I was tempted to contact him and find out what the hell he was doing (especially every time the phone rang and my boys eagerly asked if it was their dad), but his counselor expressed concern about how every time he pulls this shit, it’s just going to rehurt my six year old all over again, and that maybe asking him to make contact wasn’t a good idea, so I started working to accept the idea that yes, their dad is one of those deadbeat types who buys off his obligation to his children with a minimal amount of child support, and that I need to work to help them heal from the hurt that he has already brought and will continue to bring, and that further contact with him is only going to hurt them, not help, since it’s clear that their dad cannot be counted on, even in times when they desperately need him.
That was a month or so ago and things have been getting better. My six year old has mostly stopped hitting and kicking (although the rages and frustration are still as present as ever) and he’s been much, much happier at home. Counseling seems to be helping, as well as the huge amount of effort his school has put into finding ways for him to be successful. It’s not perfect, and I’m very worried about school getting out soon and how much less understanding and sophisticated in possible solutions his summer camp is, but things are definitely better than they were during the first three or four months of the year.
Today, we heard from their dad for the first time since he stopped calling. He sent them a package of souvenirs from what appears to be a recent Caribbean cruise. I am fucking furious.
First, I am furious because of all the fucking lame-ass ways he could acknowledge his sons, sending them souvenirs from a trip they didn’t get to go on seems pretty shitty on many levels. He abruptly stops calling, apparently not giving a shit about how this might hurt his son who is clearly already in a pretty tenuous state, and then, when he finally decides to contact them again, all he can offer is a stupid stuffed animal and a t-shirt?? No phone call, no letter, no “gee, I wish you could have come,” just a stupid box of stupid crap.
And then, I am also furious because I feel like he’s rubbing it in my face all the shit that I don’t get to do. On a daily basis I am faced with the limitations of my life with kids. There are a million things that I don’t get to do that I really want to do, that I dream of being able to do, but can’t, because I have kids and am raising them with no help. On most days, it doesn’t matter. On most days I just focus on the little (and big) sweetnesses of raising my children and put out of my mind all the things I can’t do because I have kids or because I have no help raising my kids. At best, I think about ways to modify the things I want to do so that they include my children, but that’s really not the same (and still, my kids are too young anyway). But really, I know that focusing on those things is only going to make me bitter and angry all the time, so I just don’t think about it. Until, of course, their father slaps me in the face with it. Would I like to go on a Caribbean cruise? Of course. Would I like to go on a cruise at all? Absolutely. Would I like to take a trip anywhere, ever, where I get to do what I want instead of trying to find things my kids want to do and trying to keep them from annoying the other people? Fuck yeah.
These past several months have been really hard. I’ve been so worried about my son and so desperate to find a solution. I’ve had to take a huge amount of time off from work in order to pick my son up on all the days when his behavior is too bad to stay at school, or to attend meetings with various people at his school, or to get him to counseling sessions. I see my boss’ mouth get tight when I tell him I have to leave early or come in late yet again. I have no one to talk to and no one to help me and I feel very, very, very alone. And while I’m dealing with all of this with no support or help, their fucking father is taking a cruise to the fucking Caribbean.
Tonight, when my boys are in bad moods and are having screaming fits over every stupid thing, when they won’t leave me alone for even five minutes (it has taken me hours and hours to write this), when they are complaining about everything, when my house is a mess and I’m worried about money and feeling terribly lonely, I’m fucking bitter indeed.