Back to School .... Parenting Styles 101

On Tuesday I will have to change the description in my blog title line. I will turn 43. The sad thing is this will be the second time I've changed that number since I began this blog. My first entry was on August 30, 2004 and I was 41 years old. I was wide eyed and still hopeful that I might actually have a chance of conceiving and carrying a child of our own. Almost two years later, I'm really settling into a place of knowing that this will not be the case for me ... for us.

And as I've been saying more frequently of late, I'm also settling into a place of being ok with the fact that this will not be the case for me. I believe that perhaps we are being called to use every ounce of parenting that we have with Frodo and Mini-Me.

Being on the fringe of parenting through my marriage and inheritance of Frodo and Mini-Me has given me an incredible appreciation for the challenge and responsibility of the job. I can remember my mother always saying (usually in a very frustrated voice) "if there was a school I could have attended to learn how to be a parent, I would have been the first in line", and now I know how her words are so true.

Parenting is a massive responsibility. Massive.

Yesterday we went to pick the kids up at their mother's place. HB went into the house to get them while I waited in the driveway. As much as I mostly get along with Knothead, it can get just a little too cozy if I go in to the house as well ... I'll limit my coziness with her to our Saturday mornings at the rink, thank you. Anyhow, 20 minutes later I'm still sitting in the car and there's no movement toward anyone actually exiting the house to join me.

When they finally come out, Mini-Me, who wears his emotions right out there for the world to see, storms silently into the vehicle and harumphs himself into the back seat. Frodo sails out in full people-pleasing mode and promptly moves into what I call his Dory the Nemo-fish mode....flitting here, there and everywhere, forgetting what he just said and smelling suspiciously of suck-up. HB, who has spent the entire drive over lamenting to me about how he believes he is in the beginning stages of burnout at work and has no more energy for anything, joins me in the front seat and simply says "I feel like Dr. Phil....let's go home".

Apparently they were having a 'family' conference in the house, attempting to show both kids that their biological parents were united in dealing with behaviours that have been consuming everyone at both houses of late.

Here's what we're dealing with...and they're not minor things! I have casually mentioned a few times that HB is in recovery. He has been clean and sober for quite a few years now, but none the less, he is a person in recovery who has very addictive behaviours. He is highly aware of them, and is aware that these behaviours can potentially surface in one or both of the kids. He is of the mind that awareness, open discussion and truth are among the keys to healthy living.

Add to this (and I am not saying this in an accusatory way....I'm saying it as someone who has been there herself but got me some program) that Knothead is a controlling, enabling type of person who is drawn to individuals with addictive behaviours. She refuses to believe that she could benefit from any type of program because, quote, she knows more about addiction than she ever cared to learn courtesy of HB, end quote (quote courtesy of a telephone 'conversation' one day not too long ago that was so loud from her end I could hear every word while sitting clear across the room from the phone....). Her preferred method of dealing with the presence of any kind of addictive behaviour is to (a) ignore it or (b) control it through anger until you either change the person (hah!) or the behaviour 'goes away' (read goes underground here).

Then mix in two little boys trying to grow up between two very different homes, with parents who are still feeling some guilt over the dissolution of the kids' home (not about the marriage though....they're both totally over that...thank goodness), one stepmother, and Knothead's boyfriend who also spends a lot of time around the kids.

Before I get into these descriptions of their behaviours, I want to clarify that both of these little guys are amazing creatures. They both have very cool personalities, with lots of neat things going on, and are intelligent, character filled boys. But they have these behaviours that surface, making it easy to forget that this isn't who they are ... parenting skill number one: separate the child from the child's behaviour. Al-Anon lesson for life: disengage with love.

We've got Frodo, who has learned that if you lie, manipulate, cry and stomp, eventually you will get what you're asking for because you will have worn the other person down. I witnessed him slam the back door to the SUV this morning because he couldn't ride in the front seat, then look his father directly in the eye and say "I did NOT slam that door".

Frodo also refuses to sleep alone, meaning that when they are here, HB falls asleep in their room....and yesterday we find out that in fact, yes, he is attempting to disrupt his mother's sleeping pattern as well.

Frodo is also the golden child because he is the athlete, captain of the hockey team, and doesn't have to push himself much in school to get good grades. We all, including a very reluctant Mini-Me, go to the rink at least three times a week to watch his games. Schedules revolve around Frodo's athletic events. Both HB and Knothead cater to him a fair amount as they believe he was so injured during the marriage breakup. When he is caught engaging in the inappropriate behaviour and the parents finally agree that he has to receive a consequence, he turns into Dory. Most often this results in one home or another lightening up the consequence.

Then we have Mini-Me, who at 8 years old weighs almost 125 lbs. He anesthetizes with food. He lays on the couch and attempts to have you serve him breakfast in the living room while he watches television. I have witnessed this child eat three poached eggs, toast, four sausages, four strips of turkey bacon, juice and yogurt in one sitting. He's eight. He gets into basketball clothing on Friday nights and basically stands on the court, yelling, but doesn't actually run to get the ball or anything. He is a whiz at computer and video games, and sometimes chooses to spend his time in front of these instead of getting dressed, or coming up for breakfast or lunch. Recently, instead of fighting with him about it in our home, we have been trying to help him to understand that we will call him to the table once, make sure he has heard us, and then after that it's a choice he is making.

Yesterday he made such a choice, and did not come to the table for the lunch that was prepared. We stuck to our guns, letting him know that he had made a choice, and that there would be no more food until supper. We left for the rink. HB and I were sitting beside Knothead. Mini-Me launched into the "I want a piece of pizza" dance the minute our arses hit the bench to watch the game. This is a very public dance that begins with a slow beat, much like a single drop of rain on your forehead, and builds to a torrential downpour, including real tears. The background beat includes a chorus of "you never feed me! you promised I could have a treat!" with a constant harmony of "but I'm staaaaaaaaaaaarving" for good measure.

I assured his mother that we were, indeed, only feeding him twigs, branches and berries here with an occasional glass of water if he looked parched. She jokingly threatens to report me to social services before recalling that I am social services.

Parenting skill number two: be able to withstand public humiliation when your child's addictive behaviour becomes public. Al-Anon lesson for life: disengage with love.

It would be so easy to give in and get him a piece of pizza. Or continue to stay with Dory while he's falling asleep. In the moment, that makes life in our home easy. But my mind boggles at the ramification that those seemingly minor actions in the moment will have for each child's future.

I get what my mother was saying now. I totally get it. I think that HB and I are lucky in that we have had some 'schooling' through our programs. But holy cow, it's a rough ride and frankly, I'm exhausted. At least we get to split this 50/50 through the week. I'm going to be 43 on Tuesday. I do believe that, even though any child of mine would be perfect and totally well adjusted, I'm too old to start from scratch with a new one.