Over the past few weeks, we've been observing as Ace has grown more antsy and edgy. He's been glomming for more attention than usual and never satisfied with the attention he gets, it's been more, more, more. Constantly snarky and smart mouthed when told to do his chores, do your homework and do it neater or, FOR GOD'S SAKE, go to bed on time, which is a constant mantra in our house. He pushes back at every request and I swear he deliberately moves slower when he's told to go to bed or do something now. I can SEE it and it makes my blood boil.
Ace has been, at turns, needy and confrontational and then sweet and good-natured. I thought I was the ultimate bitch queen of moodiness but this kid whips past me at warp speed when it comes to the hormonal flux capacitor. There might not be room enough in our house for all the perpetually moody people, and Giggles is hugging the rail on the puberty backstretch. I hope to hell she's more level headed. Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? We should just rename ourselves the Moody's, pad the walls, remove all sharp objects, and have done with it.
Somwhere there is humor in all this fucking pubescent angst, I know there is. Somewhere. I've laughed at it before, but for the life of me, I can't remember why and when. Right now, it's just annoying as hell. I must not be drinking enough.
Last night we had the absolute temerity, the unholy gall, to ask him to write some of his study guides over again and neater, as they were completely illegible. After a twenty minute battle of wills, while he stared back mutinously & bitched and whined about it "not being fair", "it was stupid to write it over", "I won't do it" and "why do I have to", I snapped. With flames spearing out of my eyes and brimstone snorting from my nose, I banished him from the kitchen to his room. Holy blazing monkeyballs, the fit he pitched and subsequent complete emotional breakdown was incomprehensible. Breath hitching and uncontrollable, he ranted, raved and sobbed.
SuperHubby was the calming voice in all of this and tried his best to keep us from tearing each other to bloody pieces.
It didn't help that I burned not one, but two, packages of the noodles that Ace wanted for dinner during this whole dramatic production. The second one was heaved, pot and burned goopiness, across the kitchen in my own fit of temper. Which, upon reflection, was pretty fucking stupid as I had to clean up the damn mess when I returned from the walk I took to tamp down the worst of the mad.
Ace is struggling with SuperHubby's upcoming surgery. He's anxious about the surgery, his Dad's time in the hospital and the outcome. His way of coping with his anxiety is to completely avoid the topic, and reality of it, by surrounding himself with activities and friends that make him feel good. Hey, I get that. I would prefer to do the same myself so we try to give him plenty of free time. Maybe he needed this breakdown. Popping the cork, so to speak. He used to need that every few months when he was a toddler. He was affable and generally good natured but then WHAM! every couple of months he'd go on a tear for a day. There was no pleasing him, his temper would flare and his head would swivel if he were slighted by the smallest thing. And then he would breakdown in a fit of sobs that were heart wrenching. When that was over, his charming sweet self was back. I always wondered if a changeling took his place on those particular days.
Maybe it's not so easy being thirteen these days, or so Ace declares "You don't what it's like in 8th grade!" Clearly my 8th grade year never happened as I have so little sympathy for his plight. He's a smart kid but school is no cake walk for him, he has to actually work for his grades. He often feels behind the curve, which is related to the dyslexia, and prefers to focus on his success in sports and his social life. Right now, his complete self absorption and desire to only do what pleases him is scraping my last few nerves. The first thing on his mind when he barges through the door after school is how fast the fun can begin, even before his homework or chores are done. He'll only do the absolute minimum, when forced to do chores or pitch in with something unexpected, which is akin to requesting he paint the entire house by himself with his fingers, unless it's in his best interests. Then he moves, because there might be a reward at the end, it is all about him, after all.
If one more person tells me this is normal and just a phase, I will fucking smother them them in their sleep.
Tomorrow I will remember that there is humor in puberty, even if it's at the expense of my kids.
Tomorrow I will remember that Ace is, despite current behavior, a good kid, caring and kind hearted and fun to be with, even at the worst of times.
Tomorrow I will remember that it can be challenging trying to find one's place in the world.
Tomorrow I will remember that being a teenager is all about striving for independence.
Today, I will pour more bourbon.
1 comment:
DOn't kill the messenger, you will survive. Sometimes i thought that they might it through. A little humor might help, thinking of hanging them by their toes. stepping back and saying nothing at all always worked for me, it just the look that was given sometime it help to difuse the situation. Love ya, come over and we will drink!!!!!!
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