It breaks any parent’s heart to see their child’s feelings dismissed or bruised.
I am no saint. I do feel like I have a healthy strong bond with my son, however, so we are able to communicate, apologize, and move forward into compassion and forgiveness. This is hard work. It is hard to know that the reason your child got into trouble with you, was your fault.
Me: did you finish your milk with your lunch at school today?
Him: I’m not sure
Me: check your lunchbox, please, otherwise the milk will be spoiled by the time we get home tonight. Milk is expensive and we cannot afford to just let it spoil.
Him: okay, Mommy. Whoops! I did not drink my milk
Me: drink it right now
This is not the first scenario of this kind, which is why I ask him to check his lunchbox immediately after school.
Later that evening, I rush to empty his lunchbox as he rushes into the shower because we are home so late from after school activities (argh!).
Inside his lunchbox is a ½ full container of milk.
Holy Freaking Moses – I am ticked off
Me: I am throwing away the milk you said that you were drinking. I am throwing away our money (full-on angry tired mommy voice)
Him: I was confused and I forgot and I thought that I drank my milk.
Me: You were not confused, you did not forget and you did not think that you drank your milk. What you are doing is called lying. What you are doing is being wasteful of food and money. What you are doing is being disrespectful. (still angry tired mommy voice)
Him: Oh. I’m sorry, Mommy. I did not know.
Me: You did know and you are sorry that you are in trouble. Mommy is not going to put milk into your lunchbox anymore. Do you understand what I am saying to you?
Him: Yes, Mommy (super sad, worried and tired boy, walks away to bed)
Sometime in the night, I awaken, thinking about the milk in the lunchbox.
I give him full-fat heavy-duty organic high caloric goats milk in his lunch because he needs the fat and calories. I begin to scramble my brain for what I have in the house that I can put into his lunch, that will provide him with those good fats and calories. As I am working through resolving that issue, I think about bringing the milk after school, in the car for him to drink, instead of packing the milk.
That’s when I remember what was happening in the car the day before,
when I asked him to check his lunchbox.
Because of the inane timing and ridiculous bureaucratic restrictions on pick-up from the school, on that day of the week, not only are we in a rush to a sport class, but LittleMr also has to use his amazing flexible powers to change into his sport uniform, while buckled in the car as I drive. Even his pants.
EVEN HIS PANTS, people!!! And he does it with unexplainable skill and finesse.
I remembered my rushed reminder to LittleMr, to stop what he was doing and to quickly change into his sport uniform, because we were running so late and were almost there.
And he did what I asked.
He carefully closed the container of milk he was drinking, put it back into his lunchbox, zipped up his lunchbox, and changed his clothes.
When we reached his sport activity, he jumped out of the car, ready to participate, and joined his group.
He did very well in class. He always does.
I remembered it was my fault that he didn’t finish his milk in the car.
I remembered he is overwhelmed
I remembered I am overwhelmed
I apologized to LittleMr as soon as he awakened, and I gave him so many hugs.
I did not pack milk in his lunchbox.
I am bringing the milk to him afterschool
Parenting is hard.
Being an asshat is harder.
So, to the dad showing off on his lame hoverboard at the park that told my son to, “go away,” because, “I’m spending time with just my son right now”– f you
To the dad who pointedly ignored my bleeding crying son at a mutual friend’s party, when he volunteered to watch over the kids outside (three smaller children had to help my child into the house while you stood there with a blank stare) – f you Also, everyone sees you shrinking down in your car to smoke pot after you drop your kids off in the morning* – double f you
To the male teacher who screamed at my child at his first schooling experience in first grade and told him he was not a reader, did not protect or help him with active bullies who were physically and emotionally hurting him – f you
To his own father who constantly berated him, threatened to leave him, told him he could never spend time with him again, called him a “giant pain in my neck” “your mother’s spawn” “brat, stupid, dumb” – f you
To all narrow-minded selfish people – f you
We are all struggling, I recognize that.
It is difficult for me to recognize the struggles of people who are hurting my child.
At least I get the opportunity to recognize, apologize and move forward in my relationship with LittleMr.
Parenting is hard.
Love, Ms. Herisme xo
*not judging the use of pot, judging the smugness of doing it while driving around a school