It seems that all weekend I had things I wanted to tell you. Of course, now I can't think of any of them. I have 15 minutes left of my lunch, so let's see if I can think of anything to say.
If I here Foghat or Social Distortion one more time I may sream! Yep, I gave MJ the the Guitar Hero for Father's Day. Whooops! I mean the kiddos gave him it. And he played with it all day. I got about 15-20 minutes on it while he mowed the lawn. You know what? I suck. I can't keep a beat, I can't tell what order my fingers are in, and I have no reaction time (at least for physical things, like sports).
DK beat the pants off me at Tennis. I am going with the fact that he served more than I did, and neither of us could return worth crap. He kept asking me to throw the game at the end. He just wanted to win. Little 5-year-old booger. At some point bothe he and CM have run to their room crying because they "lost". I am stuck somewhere between "they need to learn how to deal with disappointment" and that "winning isn't everything" and "it takes practice", versus "Come here and let mommy kiss and hug it better".
We had a fight (as much as we do fight) about how much is too much discipline so to speak. DK is a fussy eater, sometimes it is all good and he can't get enough, and others it is "I don't like it" to everything. Right now it is "I don't like spaghetti." (Who ever heard of a kid that doesn't like spaghetti? He likes mac n cheese and pizza.) So MJ makes him spaghetti with a white cheese sauce. DK doesn't want to eat it. "I don't like spaghetti." I thought it was the sauce he was objecting to. Turns out it is the pasta. (I swear I did not do this to him. I eat spaghetti.) So I say, "OK, I will remember for next time. Just eat it tonight." MJ goes ballistic.
Anytime someone doesn't like something he has made, he takes it as a personal affront. And it could be anything... he finally is used to the foods I don't like and doesn't make them for me. And has figured out that it isn't his cooking it is the food. But when the kids do it, he is furious. I totally understand that work was put into it, and having it rejected or taken for granted is frustrating. I just think he goes overboard. And when he yells at the kids he doesn't know when to stop.
So, he makes a comment (?) to DK about how he needs to eat his food. Takes a breath, and tells he he needs to go to his room if he isn't going to eat. Takes another breath and continues to berate him. Between the second and 3rd set, DK's eyes start to fill with tears and full on lip coming out. I am thinking, okay he gets it. So I said, "that's enough" very quietly while he is yelling at DK. He yells, "Go to your room". And then turns on me for criticizing him. I was very careful to do this so the kids couldn't hear it. I just wanted him to stop yelling.
I yell sometimes. I turn into witchy mommy at times. Watch my head spin around. (I so hate it when I turn into a screaming mimi.) He says I am too soft on them. We have such fundamentally different attitudes towards discipline. I believe in discipline truly I do. But I hate yelling and bitching to point where they feel horrible about themselves. I am so worried about them growing up confident and strong, that I am afraid that too much will make them feel bad about themselves. Maybe I am projecting. But he is so hard on DK. Much harding than he is on the girl. They have the same personality and I can tell are going to continue to butt heads and it is only going to get worse. It makes me so sad to see this little boy getting yelled at my this big intimidating man. *sigh* He is my baby, and it makes me cry when I see him hurt.
You know, it used to be when I told tales about things that happened at home, they were funny stories. This is getting sad.
One of the joys in my life is watching TV. Saturday night I watched the first Showtime episode of "The Tudors." With our iTV, we download movies and TV shows from iTunes. Since I do not have cable or satellite, I think this is wonderful. I really like European history and have lots of books on the history that era. It was fun to see it come to life (so to speak). Caught me off guard... there was nakedity. Boobies and boy butts. Well muscled boy butts. ;)
Then yesterday after another marathon session of guitar hero, MJ turned on the US Open or PGA or whatever. I watched it. I liked it. I am following the playoff today on line. Go figure.
I just finished signing 409 letters, forging the associate dean's name. I initial it too. She doesn't have a stamp, because she likes the "personal touch." But is far too busy to sign them herself. (If I asked her to sign them all personally, like she used to, I would get them next week sometime.) There are 6 different types of letters; "Congrats you're in", "So sorry, but you didn't do this list of things", "You were picked, but still haven't completed this list of things," "So sorry, you were not picked, and haven't done this list of things," and the kicker, "You did everything you were supposed to, but didn't get picked." I guess that is five. Bottom line? I have severe hand cramps now. I still need to go make a copy of each one and tri-hold, stuff into envelopes and mail. No we do not have a folding machine. I probably can get out secretary to help. I hate asking peoples for help.
I have to present today to 14 incoming students and their parents. Blech! I hate doing this. Wish me luck and that it goes quickly. And I don't make too big of an ass of myself.
Guess I figured out what to talk about.
9 comments:
You did that in 15 minutes? Wow. Prolific.
I'm probably the berater in our family. I have a hard time letting stuff go sometimes. But that's usually with the teens.
Food is such a hard issue for so many families. We struggled a ton in that area. That's why I rarely cook anymore.
I remember there were times, many, many times, that I would be made to sit at the table for almost an hour after everyone left until I ate all my vegetables. I know I never got yelled at, but to this day I cannot eat a pea, a carrot or corn cooked. It literally makes my gorge rise. I loved almost everything, but because of that (and casseroles; why would anyone ever serve a child chili-bean or tuna fish casserole?) I'm pegged as finicky eater to this day by my family. :) Still, I also know that they never yelled at me about. I got the look and the angry voice mind you. So I wonder if it's Mark's simple inability to control his temper that is the problem, and the food the catalyst for the anger? Look who's mister speculative today. Perhaps, just perhaps, Mark always expected he would have perfect kids and not the brats belonging to other people he had to teach all those years. Now he's confronted with a little human being who is his and that he still can't control? I don't know. I'm single and barren. What do I know?
I don't know if I can blame mom and dad for my pickiness-or if it just me. I tend to think it is just me. Didn't like it then, don't like it now. I will NEVER eat fried zucchini. And when DK was having his spaghetti issue I did think about you and tomatoes and tomato sauce. I think that is why I assumed it was the red sauce he objected to and no the pasta.
Part of MJ's issue is his family and the way they were brought up. Strict and restrained. He knows that and does not want to treat/raise the kids as he was... but it is what he knows. Kind of like his speed eating and immediately leaving the table (usually before I have had a chance to sit).
I have told him, and its true, that I would rather spoil them and have them know they are loved, than be too strict and feel that they are not good enough.
And I think I have written enough for another blog...
They are not spoiled. They are not monsters. They aren't even abnormally picky. They ARE loved. They are kids. M and Rowan are parents. NONE of us is perfect.
But let me tell you . . . I HATE it when my family doesn't eat what I cook. Therefore, I stopped cooking. So I guess I can get where M is coming from a bit on this issue. Not the yelling part, the being upset part.
Maybe you can teach the kids to say--with big puppy dog eyes: "Thank you for making this, Daddy. I know you tried but I just don't like it. I still love you!" :) ha.
Edited and reposted for blabbermouthness (but thank you):
Anonymous said...
Rowan, as a mom, rocks. And if she isn't at the moment, she feels guilty as hell for not doing so. Which is pretty much the same thing. :)
June 16, 2008 2:55 PM
Oops, what I do?
P.S. Laggin's right. On most accounts here.
on most accounts what????
You used REAL NAMES. :p
oh, I get it. Disregard the first comment.
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