Anne TootillTo Be or Not To Be a Mother - Part Three
April 9th 2007 17:40
It was Valentine’s Day and I’d been feeling very overwhelmed. Alex was always going, going, going and into everything. The other day I was at a friend’s house and in the second I turned my back she’d climbed onto the kitchen counter and had taken one single bite out of each of the twelve Dunkin’ Donuts that my friend was planning to bring with her to a function later that day. Talk about embarrassed. Even though my friend didn’t say anything, it was the tone of her voice and the change of her attitude that said it all… “as in, can’t you control your kids, you bad mother”?
And it wasn’t just that, it was a lot of things. Even though Josh was talking more and he was closing in on five, he still seemed to be in his own little world. When he was watching a T.V. show or video he liked or playing with his tiny toy trains or building with his Legos he could stay in one place and play and play or watch and watch for hours. But try and refocus his attention or pull him away. I would give him the ten minute warning, then the five minute, then the one minute, then I’d try to reason with him, then I’d try to scare him with a punishment and when all else failed I’d try to offer a reward if he came, but nothing worked. When he was involved with something that grabbed his attention, that was it. He could not be moved. Now picture a child who is in the 90th percentile height and weight trying to be pulled, pushed and/or moved by a mother who is 5’ nothing and weighs under 100 lbs. and dropping ( due to the anti-allergy diet I was on). Not a pretty picture. Complete frustration. Now try living that life when you have to make doctor appointments and classes or anything else that required you make it there before closing. Not good. Not good at all.
Now add Alex into the mix. At three she was incredibly sneaky and manipulative and she also was not speaking very much. Once again the doctor chalked this up to late blooming, but unlike Josh she would throw world class tantrums when she wasn’t being understood. I wasn’t so sure the doctor was right about her, but then again she had been right about Josh and she was the doctor and who was I? Not much, in my opinion.
Anyway, like I was saying it was Valentine’s day and while my husband wasn’t one to ever get me presents (not for birthdays or holidays either - I have to say it was partly my fault since I told him he shouldn’t waste money on me) this year I asked him to do one thing for me. “Please, I asked,” feeling at the end of my rope, “Just come home from work a little early that day. Instead of 7:30 come home at 5 or 5:30.
Well at 5:00 I fed the kids dinner. At 5:30 I bathed them and got them ready for bed. At 6 we started our bedtime ritual and by 7 they were all tucked in and I was so angry. Why, why couldn’t he have done this one thing that I’d asked? How hard could it have been to leave a little early or at last come home on-time?
By 8:15 I did something I thought I would never do. I put the extra lock on the door so that his key wouldn’t get him in. I was shaking when I did it. I was so afraid of what would happen to me but it was like I was possessed I couldn’t stop myself.
At 8:30 on Valentine’s Day, an hour later than his usual time, I heard his key in the lock. I heard him struggling to open the door and then knocking, then banging on the door and calling out my name. I was shaking and sweating, my heart was pounding I was so scared but I did not move towards that door.
Not long after he called me from a pay phone, screaming at me that I better open the door immediately. I knew I had to. So I did. And when he came in I thought he was going to slug me. He was so mad. And I was so scared I forgot that I was angry too. I was shaking like a leaf as he yelled at me accusing me of embarrassing him in front of the co-worker who had dropped him off. How could I do that to him? I tried to explain my side of the story. How I never asked for anything and how he’d promised me this one thing but I have to admit that he was scaring the crop out of me so I doubt I was that forceful in my appeal.
He made me apologize (I knew I had to if I wanted him to stop scaring me) then he handed me some flowers. I told him I didn’t want flowers, all I wanted was for him to come home early, just that one time. He told me he’d had to work late. End of discussion. Then he walked away to change out of his suit. I stood in the kitchen, tears sliding down my cheeks and silently cursed him and his flowers. I hated them both. Then I wiped away the tears, took a deep breath and went back to the life I’d chosen, but like my husband and the flowers, I hated.
And it wasn’t just that, it was a lot of things. Even though Josh was talking more and he was closing in on five, he still seemed to be in his own little world. When he was watching a T.V. show or video he liked or playing with his tiny toy trains or building with his Legos he could stay in one place and play and play or watch and watch for hours. But try and refocus his attention or pull him away. I would give him the ten minute warning, then the five minute, then the one minute, then I’d try to reason with him, then I’d try to scare him with a punishment and when all else failed I’d try to offer a reward if he came, but nothing worked. When he was involved with something that grabbed his attention, that was it. He could not be moved. Now picture a child who is in the 90th percentile height and weight trying to be pulled, pushed and/or moved by a mother who is 5’ nothing and weighs under 100 lbs. and dropping ( due to the anti-allergy diet I was on). Not a pretty picture. Complete frustration. Now try living that life when you have to make doctor appointments and classes or anything else that required you make it there before closing. Not good. Not good at all.
Anyway, like I was saying it was Valentine’s day and while my husband wasn’t one to ever get me presents (not for birthdays or holidays either - I have to say it was partly my fault since I told him he shouldn’t waste money on me) this year I asked him to do one thing for me. “Please, I asked,” feeling at the end of my rope, “Just come home from work a little early that day. Instead of 7:30 come home at 5 or 5:30.
Well at 5:00 I fed the kids dinner. At 5:30 I bathed them and got them ready for bed. At 6 we started our bedtime ritual and by 7 they were all tucked in and I was so angry. Why, why couldn’t he have done this one thing that I’d asked? How hard could it have been to leave a little early or at last come home on-time?
By 8:15 I did something I thought I would never do. I put the extra lock on the door so that his key wouldn’t get him in. I was shaking when I did it. I was so afraid of what would happen to me but it was like I was possessed I couldn’t stop myself.
At 8:30 on Valentine’s Day, an hour later than his usual time, I heard his key in the lock. I heard him struggling to open the door and then knocking, then banging on the door and calling out my name. I was shaking and sweating, my heart was pounding I was so scared but I did not move towards that door.
Not long after he called me from a pay phone, screaming at me that I better open the door immediately. I knew I had to. So I did. And when he came in I thought he was going to slug me. He was so mad. And I was so scared I forgot that I was angry too. I was shaking like a leaf as he yelled at me accusing me of embarrassing him in front of the co-worker who had dropped him off. How could I do that to him? I tried to explain my side of the story. How I never asked for anything and how he’d promised me this one thing but I have to admit that he was scaring the crop out of me so I doubt I was that forceful in my appeal.
He made me apologize (I knew I had to if I wanted him to stop scaring me) then he handed me some flowers. I told him I didn’t want flowers, all I wanted was for him to come home early, just that one time. He told me he’d had to work late. End of discussion. Then he walked away to change out of his suit. I stood in the kitchen, tears sliding down my cheeks and silently cursed him and his flowers. I hated them both. Then I wiped away the tears, took a deep breath and went back to the life I’d chosen, but like my husband and the flowers, I hated.
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