Besides attending some activities with the children and chauffeuring them to others, I did attempt to clean the apartment a bit and cook too. On Saturday night I really enjoyed it when we all sat down and had fajitas together. Not because of the fajitas, but because everyone was relaxed. Even me.
So Saturday night was a gift, an "up" on my life's rollercoaster. I'm glad that I got to have it, because Saturday afternoon my feelings had been genuinely hurt.
It was Saturday afternoon after Second Son's gymnastics. We had just dropped Daughter off at my sister's and I was driving home with the boys. We had been supposed to stay a while too and plant flowers, but with all the rain we just dropped her off and headed home.
I had packed a small box of crispy rice squares that First Son and I had managed to whip up between that morning's volunteering and the gymnastics. I had meant them as a snack for when we were at my sister's but on the way home Second Son opened the box to have some. I asked him to hand me one too. That was the moment First Son decided he didn't want me to have any. He said, "No! Don't give her any!" in a loud whisper. I told him don't be kidding and reached my hand back so Second Son could place a square in it, and First Son hit his hand away from mine and then hit my hand too.
Understandably, I was upset. "What are you thinking," I asked, "after I helped you make those?"
"I made them myself and you can't have any."
Oh! That nasty voice! Where did that come from?
"I can't believe you said that."
"I made them and you can't have any."
My feelings were so hurt, but I was also angered. I pulled over and asked for the box. I put it in the front seat and drove home. I was hurt, but also fuming. I almost threw the whole batch in the garbage. I bit my tongue to keep from saying something vindictive, like that I would never make anything with him in the kitchen again. (I'm glad I bit my tongue. Saying that would have been a very bad idea!)
What had gotten into him? I felt like a little kid in elementary school, who is excluded from a treat that someone shares at recess. It hurt. And from my own son!
At home, Second Son acted as if nothing had happened. He was about to put on a DVD when I sent him upstairs while I made supper. He eventually came downstairs and hugged me and said that he loved me, but when I said, "And what was that all about," he didn't answer. I was too tired, so I let it go, but I think that was a mistake. I think I should have told him how lousy he made me feel, like I wasn't accepted by my own son. I think I just wanted to avoid guilt-tripping him, but maybe I should have. I really don't think he learned any lesson here, except that it was a-okay to walk all over Mommy's feelings. I think I missed a valuable opportunity to parent, but I was just too drained to act. I still had to go pick Daughter up before supper, and by the time we got home I just wanted everyone at the table before they got so hungry they went looking for snacks for themselves.
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On Sunday, it was Daughter's turn to hurt my feelings. (You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but no, it still hurts.)
We were at her cake decorating class at Michael's that afternoon. She had learned to make carnation roses out of gumpaste. A lady was passing around some coloring powder that we could dry brush onto the carnations, and daughter decided she wanted to try it out. She brushed the powder on, but onto the whole petal, whereas the lady had showed us just to brush the petal edges. I told daughter this and she said she didn't see the difference, so I took another carnation rose that she had made so I could show her. About a second after I started applying the powder to the petal edges, she all but grabbed the flower out of my hand. "Don't do that," she said! I was very taken aback by her the tone and volume of her voice. I said, "What? I can't try just one flower?" "No," came the reply! Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I couldn't believe it. She had such a nasty look on her face and she set her teeth and worked on doggedly with her gumpaste. Needless to say, my feelings were really hurt. I mean, forget about the fact that she was at her third cake decorating class, after I had paid for her Basic and Tall Cakes classes, and now this one. Forget about the fact that I paid for all her materials. What about the fact that I took her to each and every one of those classes, a good half-hour's drive from our house, to spend time with her and try to give her a go at something that interests her? I mean, it isn't cheap and it is very time-consuming and I just sit there and watch what she does most of the time. This is how she thanks me? I can't remember the last time I felt so frustrated! -oh! yes I do: the day before, with Second Son.
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You know, I am not one of those people who seek attention and gratitude for every little thing. But once in a while, a kind gesture would be nice. With both of my kids this weekend, I felt hurt, and that pain knocked any parenting skills I might have clear out of me. If the children had acted in the opposite way, I would be posting now about how proud I am of them, of their generosity and goodwill. Instead, I am just sitting here so disappointed.
Again, it comes down to this: why am I unable to transmit my values of love and generosity (and thankfulness!) to my children. I feel like a complete failure.
Take what lessons you will from this post. I'm off to bed.
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