As I previously mentioned, my oldest son, Jonathan, is a rather sensitive 10 year old boy. My wife and I are growing ever more concerned that he is becoming too much of a wuss, to put it bluntly. Don't get me wrong, my wife and I accept who Jonathan is and will become with all of our hearts as we love him dearly. He is a great kid and the concern comes from where both Lynn and I went through as pre-teens. We both experienced the pointed end of the stick when it came to teasing. Hell, they even called my wife "ogre" and I was, well, a nerdy wuss. I know the ogre comments still affect my wife to this day as she brings it up on occasion. I wish she could see herself through my eyes (and most likely anybody else) as she quite the opposite of being an ogre.
So, we are wary when it comes to Jonathan crying openly at such trivial matters and his inability take a little pain. You know how the old playground rules were, you'd get beaned by a ball and instead of crying they'd tell you to rub some dirt on it and get back in the game. My son, unfortunately, will go to the nurse at any sign of sniffle or some little ache that he gets. He always looks to get sympathy or some sort of band-aid or ice pack for any minor injury. I know he's only 10 but I see how even my almost 8 year old, Gabriel handles some pain and while he may try to milk some goodies out of you, he won't dwell on it like Jonathan does. Jonathan will worry about all sorts of things that may happen and get upset over things that haven't even taken place. If it hasn't happened already, Jonathan will develop a reputation of being a crybaby or wuss. I don't want him to go through the same painful childhood that we did.
Just 2 days ago I came home to him bawling loudly in the living room. He said with his lips quivering that he was on top of "T-Rex Mountain" (a snow mound where the plow sticks the snow in the parking lot behind our house) and fell and banged his knee "very, very, VERY HARD!!" (and how it must be broken!) I asked him how he made it home as it takes about 3-4 minutes to walk home and he said he walked. Right then and there I found my father channeling his parenting skills through my body and mouth and I immediately dismissed his pain and basically went cold to his crying.
"Well, if you can walk on it, it's not broken."
"Sniff, really? But it feels broken."
"Well, it would swell up if you did something serious to it. Take off your pants and I'll take a look at it."
"BUT I CAN'T, it'll hurt!!"
"Stop, yes you can, do it!"
He made a big production out of how much it hurt to take off his jeans, but I wasn't buying his crocodile tears. I took a look at his knee and saw no swelling or anything that indicated that his leg was seriously hurt. He then made another big production out of getting his pants back on and just then his mother came downstairs from her shower. He took one look at her and the water works started flowing like a broken dam.
She gave him exactly what he wanted, a big hug and some sympathy. I sometimes wonder if it would be better if I showed a little compassion. But as bad as it sounds I feel that I don't make a big deal out of it he eventually won't either. Maybe I'm wrong and if I give him some TLC he can feel better and go do his usual thing, but I doubt it as his behavior over the next day and a half was almost comical. He was fake limping around. You could tell that the limp was fake since he was doing such a bad job at it. His refusal of making his leg straight was making my wife crazy. He was more worried that it would hurt if he would straighten his leg than actually getting hurt from the crazy limp he was doing.
We sent him to school despite his protests. We also informed him the he shouldn't go to the nurse about his leg pain as we weren't going to pick him up for it. We should have known better as his weird limp caught the eye of the teacher and then Jonathan blabbed that he wasn't allowed to go to the nurse. (I'm hoping that she hasn't reported us to child services yet.) Last night I finally forced him to straighten his leg out and walk on it or else he was getting punished. He complied and claimed it hurt but you could see he was walking fine.
This morning I had confirmation that he was fine as he ran into the kitchen after I told him we had Munchins from Dunkin Donuts that his Uncle Duane gave him and his brother.
I honestly don't know what to do at this point. I might even seek professional help for some of his behaviors and moods. I want him to be happy and stop worrying so much about things that are either out of his control or might not even happen. I know I had similar issues and it hits you harder when you see your own child go through the same thing. Maybe I should just be like my father and let him work it out on his own (because I turned out so well? HA!), but my gut tells me that isn't the best thing to do.
Can you rub some dirt on your soul and get back into the game?
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Friday, March 6, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
Brian the Fuck-up
There's some quite off-putting when you get called a "fuck-up". It's even more depressing when it's coming from your father. I'm sure he meant to motivate me in some fashion but all it's really done is left me in a funk most of the week. I think he may be right that I'm fucked-up in the fact that I keep seeking approval from him or just plain acceptance for who I am. Something that I consciously try to do with my sons is to praise them often or hug them openly or not use negative reinforcement of bad behaviors. I'm sure I'm far from perfect in regards to that but I'm doing my best to break the cycle of a long line of cold German bastards who were brought up to be stern and not demonstrate any love because it would be considered a sign of weakness for a man to be any different.
It's not that my father is a complete asshole, because if he were, he'd be a lot easier to just write off. He's certainly saved my ass on more than a few occasions and I've probably been a disappointment in many ways when you consider the wasted potential I had before I became a college drop-out. But he gets in these cocky moods where he feels like he's better than anyone else and that's when he's extra annoying. I suppose I can attribute that to the bipolar genes we share but he likes to deny. I guess since he won't recognize his own possible mood disorder that he doesn't have sympathy for those who will.
I certainly don't want to use my disorder as a crutch and I always think that you need to take responsibility for your actions despite the causality. But I don't think my Dad knows just how hard it's been just achieving what I've accomplished in the last 12 years. I'm a homeowner, a good husband, a good father, and while I may not be the biggest go-getter when it comes to the family business I've certainly contributed quite a lot and I am a big reason for its success. Perhaps, I've been a bit despondent lately because my opinions tend to get ignored or put aside and my attitude towrds the business comes across as being lackluster. But, I will get a bit non-plussed when he calls me a fuck-up and I should take more initiative.
Yes, I do screw around a bit more than I should. It's obvious as I'm on Facebook doing puzzles or even here blogging at 3:30 in the afternoon. But I take pride in the fact of how efficiently I can get my work done. I guess I should be spending every possible moment in a frenzy trying to stir up business, so if that's the case, then I'm a big fuck-up. But you, Dad, are a fuck-up as well. Maybe not as a business and sales man, but as a supportive and caring person. Yet, I still love you and wish to have your undying appreciation and apporval despite the lack of it. I doubt either of us will change all that much but it's not that fucked-up to think differently and strive to be better.
It's not that my father is a complete asshole, because if he were, he'd be a lot easier to just write off. He's certainly saved my ass on more than a few occasions and I've probably been a disappointment in many ways when you consider the wasted potential I had before I became a college drop-out. But he gets in these cocky moods where he feels like he's better than anyone else and that's when he's extra annoying. I suppose I can attribute that to the bipolar genes we share but he likes to deny. I guess since he won't recognize his own possible mood disorder that he doesn't have sympathy for those who will.
I certainly don't want to use my disorder as a crutch and I always think that you need to take responsibility for your actions despite the causality. But I don't think my Dad knows just how hard it's been just achieving what I've accomplished in the last 12 years. I'm a homeowner, a good husband, a good father, and while I may not be the biggest go-getter when it comes to the family business I've certainly contributed quite a lot and I am a big reason for its success. Perhaps, I've been a bit despondent lately because my opinions tend to get ignored or put aside and my attitude towrds the business comes across as being lackluster. But, I will get a bit non-plussed when he calls me a fuck-up and I should take more initiative.
Yes, I do screw around a bit more than I should. It's obvious as I'm on Facebook doing puzzles or even here blogging at 3:30 in the afternoon. But I take pride in the fact of how efficiently I can get my work done. I guess I should be spending every possible moment in a frenzy trying to stir up business, so if that's the case, then I'm a big fuck-up. But you, Dad, are a fuck-up as well. Maybe not as a business and sales man, but as a supportive and caring person. Yet, I still love you and wish to have your undying appreciation and apporval despite the lack of it. I doubt either of us will change all that much but it's not that fucked-up to think differently and strive to be better.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Get Stuffed
Most people really enjoy Thanksgiving. They get together with family and eat too much, drink too much and watch football. What's not to like, right?
Yet I find myself uncomfortable half the time. I could go for the easy answer and blame my annoying over-chatty brother-in-law's sister, but it I would still feel uneasy with or without her being there. Although, I've gotten better over the years, family get togethers make me feel weird and out of place. As crazy cynical as this sounds- seeing genuine affection and closeness in a family situation irks me. How fucked up is that?
Growing up, my immediate family was a touch cold but we did ultimately like each other, so I can't blame my Mom and Dad for feeling this way. It was however strange once we got together with our extended family. My father's parents both died before I even turned 8 so I have scant memories of them. His youngest sister lived in Alabama so I never saw her. His older brother was very reserved and quiet and had older children that wanted nothing to do with us so going there felt cold and I was often very bored. My dad's other sister did have children our ages so it was rather enjoyable spending time there, I think it may have been the only "normal" family experience we had.
My mother's side was worse. My grandmother was mentally ill and seeing her was always uncomfortable. (just seeing the pain on my mother's face of interacting with her was all it took) My mother's Aunt Ruby who took care of my mother when she was a child was a cranky old biddy who was extremely uptight. She didn't drive, so they would always have to pick her up and bring her to our house for Thanksgiving and she would complain about this and that and how much a burden she was etc. Needless to say, she was very unpleasant to be around. My Uncle Ed wasn't so bad but he wasn't easy to identify with as he was a blue collar truck driver who just wanted to drink when he had free time. (he was never nasty, we just didn't have much in common) His kids were annoying brats.
So, excepting my one Aunt and set of cousins I never really experienced close familial interactions during the holidays. Despite knowing the best of intentions of my in-laws, I feel like an outsider when I attend events like this. Fortunately, I seem to grow more comfortable each year and I tend to have a better time. I also feel better knowing that I've ended the cycle and my kids experience a positive attitude with grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins, etc.
I suppose you could chalk up my negativity to trust issues. I also know that many other people have much worse family situations so this post isn't intended to be a "woe is me" type of post. It's just something I'm trying to work through and become a better person and family man. A little self-analysis is just like Thanksgiving after all- it can be fulfilling as long as you don't overdo it.
Yet I find myself uncomfortable half the time. I could go for the easy answer and blame my annoying over-chatty brother-in-law's sister, but it I would still feel uneasy with or without her being there. Although, I've gotten better over the years, family get togethers make me feel weird and out of place. As crazy cynical as this sounds- seeing genuine affection and closeness in a family situation irks me. How fucked up is that?
Growing up, my immediate family was a touch cold but we did ultimately like each other, so I can't blame my Mom and Dad for feeling this way. It was however strange once we got together with our extended family. My father's parents both died before I even turned 8 so I have scant memories of them. His youngest sister lived in Alabama so I never saw her. His older brother was very reserved and quiet and had older children that wanted nothing to do with us so going there felt cold and I was often very bored. My dad's other sister did have children our ages so it was rather enjoyable spending time there, I think it may have been the only "normal" family experience we had.
My mother's side was worse. My grandmother was mentally ill and seeing her was always uncomfortable. (just seeing the pain on my mother's face of interacting with her was all it took) My mother's Aunt Ruby who took care of my mother when she was a child was a cranky old biddy who was extremely uptight. She didn't drive, so they would always have to pick her up and bring her to our house for Thanksgiving and she would complain about this and that and how much a burden she was etc. Needless to say, she was very unpleasant to be around. My Uncle Ed wasn't so bad but he wasn't easy to identify with as he was a blue collar truck driver who just wanted to drink when he had free time. (he was never nasty, we just didn't have much in common) His kids were annoying brats.
So, excepting my one Aunt and set of cousins I never really experienced close familial interactions during the holidays. Despite knowing the best of intentions of my in-laws, I feel like an outsider when I attend events like this. Fortunately, I seem to grow more comfortable each year and I tend to have a better time. I also feel better knowing that I've ended the cycle and my kids experience a positive attitude with grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins, etc.
I suppose you could chalk up my negativity to trust issues. I also know that many other people have much worse family situations so this post isn't intended to be a "woe is me" type of post. It's just something I'm trying to work through and become a better person and family man. A little self-analysis is just like Thanksgiving after all- it can be fulfilling as long as you don't overdo it.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Temper Tempest
The problem with knowing you have a mood disorder is that you're often left wondering if your current mood is a result of that disorder or if it's actually related to external stimuli. (or both?) As I sit here stewing and feeling what I call the "buzz" that's in the back of my head that's making me miserable, I can't help but wonder if it's because I'm a fucked up dude or because my brother has Christmas music on from B101 in the office next to mine. Or perhaps, it's because my father/boss was in the office today in his usual rampage.
I have no doubts that my father suffers from some sort of mood disorder like I do but he refuses to acknowledge or see it (forget about treating it or medication). Many times he comes into the office and he starts ranting about what I haven't done and what needs to be done and he works himself in such a whirlwind that it's impossible to recall what the hell he said unless you had a stenographer from the early 60's following him around. As much as it's put me in an even worse mood than I already was, I can't help but recall a similar rampage I had on my children this weekend and how they can't put their toys away and how ungrateful the little brats are and yadda, yadda, yadda.
This "temper tempest" is a build up of sorts and a release of manic anger that is dumped upon the next underling or peer you encounter. Sometimes, I can catch myself and do what's best to avoid confrontation. But, hey, let's face it- sometimes confrontation finds you. I'm sure half of what my father said in his blasting was correct, but if he were to slow down, listen and not take a dump on me then maybe most of it would get resolved quickly.
Advice I need to take myself.
History repeats itself and the best thing we can do is learn from other people's mistakes if not our own. Yet the thing about rage is that the flurry of brain activity doesn't allow oneself to exactly remain in control or think rationally. Somehow I've been able to stoically detach myself from sadness but I still can't conquer my anger. Just call me Bruce Banner without the green skin and super strength. I guess it's why you don't see comic books where the hero has radioactive tears and the ability to super-emote.
I have no doubts that my father suffers from some sort of mood disorder like I do but he refuses to acknowledge or see it (forget about treating it or medication). Many times he comes into the office and he starts ranting about what I haven't done and what needs to be done and he works himself in such a whirlwind that it's impossible to recall what the hell he said unless you had a stenographer from the early 60's following him around. As much as it's put me in an even worse mood than I already was, I can't help but recall a similar rampage I had on my children this weekend and how they can't put their toys away and how ungrateful the little brats are and yadda, yadda, yadda.
This "temper tempest" is a build up of sorts and a release of manic anger that is dumped upon the next underling or peer you encounter. Sometimes, I can catch myself and do what's best to avoid confrontation. But, hey, let's face it- sometimes confrontation finds you. I'm sure half of what my father said in his blasting was correct, but if he were to slow down, listen and not take a dump on me then maybe most of it would get resolved quickly.
Advice I need to take myself.
History repeats itself and the best thing we can do is learn from other people's mistakes if not our own. Yet the thing about rage is that the flurry of brain activity doesn't allow oneself to exactly remain in control or think rationally. Somehow I've been able to stoically detach myself from sadness but I still can't conquer my anger. Just call me Bruce Banner without the green skin and super strength. I guess it's why you don't see comic books where the hero has radioactive tears and the ability to super-emote.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Get the fuck outta the fast lane!!
To honor the recently departed George Carlin-
"Anyone who drives slower than you is an idiot and anyone who drives faster than you is a maniac!"
If you include bathroom breaks, fast food stops and gas fill ups I drove a combined 21 hours in the last 4 days on my trip to Greenville SC and back. 12 hours on Thursday and 9 hours on Sunday (Lynn drove for 2 hours) I've recently been in Pennsylvania, Maryland, West Virginia, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Washington DC and Delaware. (Trivia question- which of those states wasn't part of the 13 colonies?) I've seen gas pricing range from $4.33 a gallon to $3.67 a gallon. It was the sort of drive the sucks the life out of you. Admittedly, however, it doesn't come close to being as bad my 60 hours on a plane in 10 days that I once did on a trip to Asia. I really did try to make it go quicker but it's next to impossible to do some real speeding in the Atlantic corridor. The way down we took the PA turnpike to route 81 to route 77 to route 85. Almost the whole way was 2 lanes of traffic. We took route 85 all the way to 95 to get home. It was slightly faster but we had a decent amount of traffic to contend with for a Sunday.
My luck was the worst when it came to passing people. It seemed like trucks were driving side by side to make it impossible to pass. Plus they'd seemed to jump out in front of you at the last minute. Either that or you were constantly running into clusters. You'd have a good mile of driving by yourself on the highway at 85 mph and then you'd have about 10-20 cars all bunched up together for 5 miles. Unless you weaved in and out like Speed Racer or just pushed on the horn to get people out of your way you got stuck going slow. I guess some people feel safer when they have others in front of them or near them instead of driving out in the open. But the most annoying part is that people just will not get out of the passing lane when you move up behind them.
ARRRGHHH!! I really hate that! Get the fuck outta my way dammit!!
Whenever I see someone coming up behind me in my rear view mirror I move over to the right lane as soon as there is an opening. It's common courtesy and it's also the law in most states. Sure, my lead foot isn't exactly legal, but move over and you won't have to deal with me anymore.
At least the kids were about as best behaved as possible for a 12 hour drive. The DVD player helped, but even still I commend their demeanor as I have awful memories of me and my brother Duane constantly fighting in the car on vacations.
"Mom! Duane's touching me!!"
"Brian won't get his foot off my book!"
"Stop making faces at me!"
"Are we there yet?"
Duane and I used to fight over who sat in the seat behind my dad because the other side was considered the "hitting" side. He couldn't reach behind himself to whack whoever was misbehaving, so he would just hit whoever was sitting behind my mom whenever one of us would start complaining about the other. You definitely can see the strategic importance of sitting behind dad as you could be the aggressor without much punishment. Although, if you really did push your luck you'd get it good once you got out of the car and I do remember both of us getting a good beating one time when my dad pulled over to the side of the road because we were being so bad.
My kids hardly complained about how long it was taking at all and they got along fine. I must be a better father than my dad, especially since my kids don't argue on who gets to sit on the hitting side.
"Anyone who drives slower than you is an idiot and anyone who drives faster than you is a maniac!"
If you include bathroom breaks, fast food stops and gas fill ups I drove a combined 21 hours in the last 4 days on my trip to Greenville SC and back. 12 hours on Thursday and 9 hours on Sunday (Lynn drove for 2 hours) I've recently been in Pennsylvania, Maryland, West Virginia, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Washington DC and Delaware. (Trivia question- which of those states wasn't part of the 13 colonies?) I've seen gas pricing range from $4.33 a gallon to $3.67 a gallon. It was the sort of drive the sucks the life out of you. Admittedly, however, it doesn't come close to being as bad my 60 hours on a plane in 10 days that I once did on a trip to Asia. I really did try to make it go quicker but it's next to impossible to do some real speeding in the Atlantic corridor. The way down we took the PA turnpike to route 81 to route 77 to route 85. Almost the whole way was 2 lanes of traffic. We took route 85 all the way to 95 to get home. It was slightly faster but we had a decent amount of traffic to contend with for a Sunday.
My luck was the worst when it came to passing people. It seemed like trucks were driving side by side to make it impossible to pass. Plus they'd seemed to jump out in front of you at the last minute. Either that or you were constantly running into clusters. You'd have a good mile of driving by yourself on the highway at 85 mph and then you'd have about 10-20 cars all bunched up together for 5 miles. Unless you weaved in and out like Speed Racer or just pushed on the horn to get people out of your way you got stuck going slow. I guess some people feel safer when they have others in front of them or near them instead of driving out in the open. But the most annoying part is that people just will not get out of the passing lane when you move up behind them.
ARRRGHHH!! I really hate that! Get the fuck outta my way dammit!!
Whenever I see someone coming up behind me in my rear view mirror I move over to the right lane as soon as there is an opening. It's common courtesy and it's also the law in most states. Sure, my lead foot isn't exactly legal, but move over and you won't have to deal with me anymore.
At least the kids were about as best behaved as possible for a 12 hour drive. The DVD player helped, but even still I commend their demeanor as I have awful memories of me and my brother Duane constantly fighting in the car on vacations.
"Mom! Duane's touching me!!"
"Brian won't get his foot off my book!"
"Stop making faces at me!"
"Are we there yet?"
Duane and I used to fight over who sat in the seat behind my dad because the other side was considered the "hitting" side. He couldn't reach behind himself to whack whoever was misbehaving, so he would just hit whoever was sitting behind my mom whenever one of us would start complaining about the other. You definitely can see the strategic importance of sitting behind dad as you could be the aggressor without much punishment. Although, if you really did push your luck you'd get it good once you got out of the car and I do remember both of us getting a good beating one time when my dad pulled over to the side of the road because we were being so bad.
My kids hardly complained about how long it was taking at all and they got along fine. I must be a better father than my dad, especially since my kids don't argue on who gets to sit on the hitting side.
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