Yesterday was a planning day at school. Being the well-prepared mother that I am, I had gotten the museum pass from our municipal library so we could go to the Canadian Museum of Science and Technology for free. (Our library has free passes to several museums - very handy for a low-income family. Very easy on the budget.)
Before we even made it to the museum, the boys were fighting in the back seat. Second Son had a pine cone and for some reason he saw fit to take bits of it and throw them at First Son. First Son responded with punches. I was understandably annoyed. First of all, because of the mess in the back seat. It looked like a squirrel had been left loose back there. (Actually, considering it was my two boys, I'm glad the upholstery is still intact!) But the most important reason for my annoyance was the fact that the boys just can't get along. I have to say, it really wears on the nerves, all this provocation and violence between them. Not to mention the added stress that I was driving while having to verbally manage the situation, which I did not do very efficiently. The boys knew there was nothing I could do while driving, and they ignored me.
I was definitely feeling the frustration of having disobedient children who don't listen. Honestly, I should have just turned around, brought them home and sent them to their room, but that wouldn't have been fair to Daughter. She was looking forward to the museum trip. She had gone with her class last Monday and had come home disappointed that none of her classmates had wanted to go see the part of the exhibit that was devoted to the Titanic. It would not have been fair to punish her for her brothers' misbehavior. Another reason for which I didn't turn around was that I knew that if we spent the day at home, the boys would be insufferable. They can't be shut up in an apartment all day. They need to move.
The other reason that I was feeling so frustrated was that I felt really alone in this situation. The boys have often resorted to physical fighting to settle their differences, and sometimes it seems like I just can't come up for air. They are always at it! I have mentioned this - let's be honest, I have complained about this! - to friends and acquaintances, and have been disappointed and equally frustrated with the answer: "They're boys." I hear that a lot nowadays, and it sounds to me as if society seems to be giving boys free reign to violence. Just because they're boys, I am supposed to expect them to be hitting each other all the time? Am I supposed to let them do this? Sorry, I don't buy it!
Some people have tried to pat me on the shoulder and tell me to wait until they are a little older, to tell me that they will grow out of it, but it seems to me that if I let this go on, they will only get worse. It shouldn't take maturity for a boy to be civil with his siblings. It should only take him being told once that violent behavior is unacceptable. I talk with the boys about this all the time. I reason, I beg, I lecture. Nothing has worked thus far. Why is it so easy and natural for them to settle things by reaching out and hitting one another? Where is their sense of empathy, their feeling that they shouldn't hurt one another because that hurts? I don't know. It's a complete mystery.
This is a really sore point with me because as a single mother, I constantly feel judged about how my children behave, which is a reflection to how I am raising them. As I am the main influence in their lives (if we disregard the fact that they do spend all day with their teachers), I am disappointed that they don't follow my way of behaving, that they haven't assumed my values. Sometimes I wonder if the more I exhibit my values, the more they will exhibit the opposite. If I treat them generously, will they turn out selfish? If I am patient with them, will they learn to take advantage of me? If I provide them with things out of love for them, will they grow up to feel entitled? I waited 23 years just to get pregnant, just to finally become a mother. I dreamt, daydreamed, babysat to practice, read books, researched, watched documentaries. In the end, I still end up feeling inadequate. Sometimes I despair that heredity has more to do with it than environment, and despite myself I see all their father's shortcomings in the children. Impatience, gruffness, superiority and a lack of empathy. Then of course I rebuke myself for trying to find a scapegoat, when it is I who am raising the kids. I do the best I can, devote my time to them, yet I end up disappointed in the outcome.
I refuse to accept that the boys are allowed to hit and fight just because they are boys. They have plenty of opportunities to channel their testosterone into positive outlets. They play outside every day, they are regularly enrolled in athletic activities, and I am constantly telling them that violence is not the answer. Still, sometimes even I have to admit that it seems that violence is ingrained in them. It is so spontaneous, it's scary.
Well, I am going to soldier on as I have, despite the disappointment and exasperation. I will continue to reason, beg and lecture. Hopefully, some of it will finally sink in some day.
I was definitely feeling the frustration of having disobedient children who don't listen. Honestly, I should have just turned around, brought them home and sent them to their room, but that wouldn't have been fair to Daughter. She was looking forward to the museum trip. She had gone with her class last Monday and had come home disappointed that none of her classmates had wanted to go see the part of the exhibit that was devoted to the Titanic. It would not have been fair to punish her for her brothers' misbehavior. Another reason for which I didn't turn around was that I knew that if we spent the day at home, the boys would be insufferable. They can't be shut up in an apartment all day. They need to move.
The other reason that I was feeling so frustrated was that I felt really alone in this situation. The boys have often resorted to physical fighting to settle their differences, and sometimes it seems like I just can't come up for air. They are always at it! I have mentioned this - let's be honest, I have complained about this! - to friends and acquaintances, and have been disappointed and equally frustrated with the answer: "They're boys." I hear that a lot nowadays, and it sounds to me as if society seems to be giving boys free reign to violence. Just because they're boys, I am supposed to expect them to be hitting each other all the time? Am I supposed to let them do this? Sorry, I don't buy it!
Some people have tried to pat me on the shoulder and tell me to wait until they are a little older, to tell me that they will grow out of it, but it seems to me that if I let this go on, they will only get worse. It shouldn't take maturity for a boy to be civil with his siblings. It should only take him being told once that violent behavior is unacceptable. I talk with the boys about this all the time. I reason, I beg, I lecture. Nothing has worked thus far. Why is it so easy and natural for them to settle things by reaching out and hitting one another? Where is their sense of empathy, their feeling that they shouldn't hurt one another because that hurts? I don't know. It's a complete mystery.
This is a really sore point with me because as a single mother, I constantly feel judged about how my children behave, which is a reflection to how I am raising them. As I am the main influence in their lives (if we disregard the fact that they do spend all day with their teachers), I am disappointed that they don't follow my way of behaving, that they haven't assumed my values. Sometimes I wonder if the more I exhibit my values, the more they will exhibit the opposite. If I treat them generously, will they turn out selfish? If I am patient with them, will they learn to take advantage of me? If I provide them with things out of love for them, will they grow up to feel entitled? I waited 23 years just to get pregnant, just to finally become a mother. I dreamt, daydreamed, babysat to practice, read books, researched, watched documentaries. In the end, I still end up feeling inadequate. Sometimes I despair that heredity has more to do with it than environment, and despite myself I see all their father's shortcomings in the children. Impatience, gruffness, superiority and a lack of empathy. Then of course I rebuke myself for trying to find a scapegoat, when it is I who am raising the kids. I do the best I can, devote my time to them, yet I end up disappointed in the outcome.
I refuse to accept that the boys are allowed to hit and fight just because they are boys. They have plenty of opportunities to channel their testosterone into positive outlets. They play outside every day, they are regularly enrolled in athletic activities, and I am constantly telling them that violence is not the answer. Still, sometimes even I have to admit that it seems that violence is ingrained in them. It is so spontaneous, it's scary.
Well, I am going to soldier on as I have, despite the disappointment and exasperation. I will continue to reason, beg and lecture. Hopefully, some of it will finally sink in some day.
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