This doesn't feel like summer. It feels like ****. No, this is not a joke about Phoenix weather. Yes, I am angry and my filters are weak. It has been less than 24 hours since my oldest son was arrested. He wasn't dressed to go to the video store to rent a movie. We all went to the car to wait for him. On my way out the door, I asked him if he needed me to wait, and he refused to answer. I knew he was trying to hold me hostage again, to keep me from leaving. He was stuck in his head somewhere between 'I don't know how to get myself ready fast enough' and 'I don't really want to go, so no one should go'. Well, reasoning with him wasn't gonna happen, and I refuse to be held hostage. As he watched us go to the car to wait for him, his abandonment issues kicked in and he punched the window.
I was proud that he came straight outside and told me. He knew the police would need to be called, and stayed by my car until they arrived. My instinct was to keep the doors locked and the windows up; not to let him in the car. I was not shutting him out, I was just not feeling safe, and I didn't want the shards of glass from his hands and stomach to get in the car. I talked to him and kissed him before the officer took him to jail. I can not repeat here what I said or I will start crying. Again.
My little son was in tears. My little girls were silent and wide-eyed. We went to the corner store and got icees to numb the pain. It felt good to be able to swallow again.
I tried really hard to start fresh with B this morning, but my tone has been stern and not as forgiving as I would like. I explained my need to process this for a while. I have never been through this before! Of course I need time to think. We all do. B has at least a week to think ... he is stuck to me and his sibs with no friend or phone privileges. We'll spend alot of time together deep cleaning the office with the broken window. Top to bottom.
Other than that, I've read a book a day the last three days. They are teen fiction books, which only take a few hours. Clean, by Amy Reed, and Dead to You, by Lisa McMann, are excellent. Both are very well written, easy to read, and describe trauma as it affects teenagers and entire families. I am going to devour all the other books written by these two authors this summer.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Saturday, May 12, 2012
expected
Brennan, a high school freshman, eats lunch with high school seniors. He feels much more comfortable hanging out with kids much older and much younger than he is. He does not have one single friend that is his age.
He wanted to have his birthday party in March so his senior friends could come before they graduate from school. His birthday is in July. Of course, March is too early to celebrate, so I set the date for May-ish. He threw a fit, but he knows I don't budge, and eventually accepted the new plans.
It's May-ish now. He invited 15 people to his party, scheduled for this afternoon. I bought enough food for 10, just in case. One senior showed up, for 20 minutes. He had already eaten. He texted other people the whole time. The usual neighborhood kids swarmed in and ate 1/4 of the food and 1/16 of the cake. Instead of being disappointed, Brennan seemed to be beaming at the attention from the neighborhood kids. He even thanked me twice for the party! In front of his friends! I kept waiting for the nastiness to come out of him.
At 7:30, the ending time of the party, I cleaned up the picnic table and loaded up the car. Here it was: He yelled "What the heck! I'm still waiting for some friends to show up!" The poor kid really hadn't come to accept that no one was coming, and of course, it would now be all my fault they didn't come since I was ending the party. That explosion was relatively mild, and to be expected from Brennan.
He broke curfew and stayed out well past dark. He gave me a calm, reasonable explanation, I explained to him some more logical, safe solutions to his problem, and he said "I really want to thank you again for the party." That was not to be expected from Brennan. I milked it and stole a bear hug. Of course his back arched and his arms tensed between us, but ... yeah, expected.
He is not mentioning the planned sleepover at his friends' house that apparently fell through. I am not bringing it up either. We are going to watch the movie Ali with his favorite actor, Will Smith. Then we'll go upstairs. If I direct him in any way to go to bed, though, he'll escalate and blame the cancellation of the sleepover on me. That's to be expected.
He wanted to have his birthday party in March so his senior friends could come before they graduate from school. His birthday is in July. Of course, March is too early to celebrate, so I set the date for May-ish. He threw a fit, but he knows I don't budge, and eventually accepted the new plans.
It's May-ish now. He invited 15 people to his party, scheduled for this afternoon. I bought enough food for 10, just in case. One senior showed up, for 20 minutes. He had already eaten. He texted other people the whole time. The usual neighborhood kids swarmed in and ate 1/4 of the food and 1/16 of the cake. Instead of being disappointed, Brennan seemed to be beaming at the attention from the neighborhood kids. He even thanked me twice for the party! In front of his friends! I kept waiting for the nastiness to come out of him.
At 7:30, the ending time of the party, I cleaned up the picnic table and loaded up the car. Here it was: He yelled "What the heck! I'm still waiting for some friends to show up!" The poor kid really hadn't come to accept that no one was coming, and of course, it would now be all my fault they didn't come since I was ending the party. That explosion was relatively mild, and to be expected from Brennan.
He broke curfew and stayed out well past dark. He gave me a calm, reasonable explanation, I explained to him some more logical, safe solutions to his problem, and he said "I really want to thank you again for the party." That was not to be expected from Brennan. I milked it and stole a bear hug. Of course his back arched and his arms tensed between us, but ... yeah, expected.
He is not mentioning the planned sleepover at his friends' house that apparently fell through. I am not bringing it up either. We are going to watch the movie Ali with his favorite actor, Will Smith. Then we'll go upstairs. If I direct him in any way to go to bed, though, he'll escalate and blame the cancellation of the sleepover on me. That's to be expected.
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