So, my kid. He's a good kid. Really, he is. I've been lucky. He adapted really quite well to being a only child to parents who live in different households. It's gotta be tough on him, not knowing or remembering who's house he's sleeping at because it changes daily. In our mind, it's fairly standard....Sunday, Monday, Thursday, Friday nights he is with Mommy and the rest of the time he's with Daddy. But for Q, it's here and there and here and there. He's way more resilient than I give him credit for. It always breaks my heart a little when he asks, "Where am I sleeping tonight, Mommy?"
The thought of one week here and one week there breaks my heart. I can't even imagine not seeing him for a whole week. As difficult as it would be for me, I think it would be hard on him too.
He doesn't have brothers or sisters who *understand* what it's like to be shuttled back and forth from home to home. No one to commiserate with and talk about how much it sucks when so-and-so happens. I try to get him to talk about how he feels but he just shrugs his shoulders and says, "I don't know." What he probably means is "you wouldn't understand". And I don't. I know where I'm sleeping every night. It's the same bed in the same house every single night. I know where I'm eating dinner, where I'm spending my weekend. I know this. It's standard. For him, it changes all the time.
For this reason, I've been really lenient with Q. We eat dinner on the couch more than the dinner table. We go on dates to the movies or bowling more than most kids his age. And, he sleeps with me.
It started as a coping mechanism when he was a baby so I could get some flippin' sleep and then one thing led to another and through all the uncertainty, it was certain. His little hand on my face, the even sound of his breathing (and snoring...), the elbow in my back, the heel dug into my thigh. What can I say...it's not always fun sharing the bed with a bed-hog seven year old, but it is comforting.
So I get that he has to sleep in his own bed, and I get that it has to happen soon. We've been looking for beds, have his room all set up...just waiting for a bed.
We've been having a whole lot of troubling behaviour lately. The most upsetting was last night when he didn't get his way, so he wound up and punched me in the back of the head (closed fist) while I was driving. Immediately when we got home, I threw him in his room and called his dad. Q is supposed to be going to a B.C. Lions' football game on his birthday and I thought taking that away would be a perfect punishment.
His dad (the retard) says we need to sit down and talk about his behaviour and what we can do to change it. I'm like, dude...we don't need to sit down and discuss anything. We need to take something away from him. I don't need a pow wow with you, I need you to help me discipline him. He didn't think that punishing him was the *right* thing to do and he needed to *think* about it. He says to me, "See. This is why I'm sending him down the street to play with these other kids. They're so well behaved and they're teaching Q how to behave." I'm like, dude....it's not the kid down the street's responsibility to teach our child how to behave. It's OURS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So I hang up on his dad. (We remember I'm PMS-ing, right???? Ya.)
I go talk to Q. I settle on no bunny rabbit, no iPhone for two weeks, and no Lego Ninjagos. HE was more upset with the punishment than the fact that he had punched me. But I've read two things recently about this...1. Boys get a surge of testosterone when they're two and when they're seven. My girlfriends son started talking like he was Rambo when he turned two..."I STUBBED MY TOE. I'M THIRSTY. I WANT SOME MILK." It was hilarious. I think Q is going through a surge of testosterone and doesn't really know how to deal constructively with the aggression that comes with it. Secondly, children do not get *empathy* until they are well into the age of 7. They don't understand that their actions affect how other people feel. They don't understand the concept.
So, I have to move Q into his own bed. I have to teach him boundaries. I have to teach him is actions have consequences. I have to discipline when ding dong in the other house has no intentions of supporting me. He wants to be the fun parent, the parent who says, "Don't do that, k?" and gets results. Basically, I'm a lone enforcer. He goes to daddy's, does what he likes - comes home and gets mean mommy. He said that to me...You are a mean, mean mommy.
Here's the lesson, kids. Before you procreate with anyone, make sure you have similar ideas on parenting. It makes it SOOOOOO much easier. If you can actually test your theories out on other people's kids...even better. Mr. Ex agreed with me on every parenting ideal until we actually had a child. Then he didn't want to parent at all. He just wants to be Disneyland daddy. So test 'em out. Make sure they walk the walk. Make sure they're not bluffing.
In the meantime....any words of advice? Can anyone relate? Misery loves company so if your babes are acting out too, I'd love to hear about it...and even more, I'd love to hear how you're coping.
Here's a great read. I'm going to go through all my boxes, find it and read it again....
Read this one too!!