This is not a fishing expedition to get a bunch of “Oh, you’re a GREAT mother!” comments from you guys…because while that’s always nice to hear, to be honest, it means very little in the big scheme of things. After all, you don’t see what goes on at my house…I mean some of you do, sometimes, but most of you have no idea about what kind of mother I am. You must know that I am usually conflicted on what my true convictions are as a parent. One day, I’m my child’s biggest and loudest and most obnoxious ally…and on the very next day, I might melt into a big puddle of failure and decide that I’ve “Given Up.” Period. Of course, the following week, I’m right back in the swing of things and trying to figure out what ultimately will never, I fear, be “figured out.”
Little B’s behavior is at an all time worst. Big E’s motivation to perform or at least “skid by” is at an all time low. One is 5, and the other is 16. And I have NO control over either of them.
The girls, on the other hand, are just dandy. Tween C is involved in school, tries out for athletic stuff (today she is trying out for track) and makes excellent grades. She’s got a great group of friends and seems well adjusted. Little A is an imaginative, social, and smart little girl. She makes friends and manages to keep them, she talks non-stop and you never are wondering what’s going on in her little head or behind those tiny glasses. One is 12 and the other is 4.
What the hell? What’s the deal with the males in my family? It’s as though testicles are toxic for my lineage.
I’ve scheduled an appointment for Little B to be evaluated by his pediatrician, once again. This time they know coming into the appointment that I want a referral to a psychologist. While Big E was clearly ADHD as he was diagnosed at about age 6, Little B is a little harder to ‘figure out’ for me. I know a lot about ADHD, having read everything I could get my hands on on the subject. I even put together the most relevant portions for Big E (when he was “Little E”) from each of these sources in handbook format and met with his teachers and the administrators at his school to try to “coax” them into handling his issues differently. Of course, they didn’t want it. They gave me a lot of “buts” and “but whens” in response instead. But Little B is different in so many ways from Big E when he was his age. He’s attentive. His handwriting and memorization are amazing for his age. He’s not smarter than Big E was at that age, it’s just that he’s able to SHOW how smart he is. When Big E was 5, having a conversation with him was almost like talking to an adult. He got concepts and they stuck. He applied them to problems he experienced and figured them out. But if you looked at his classwork, you’d swear he was very low on the intelligence quotient scale. Little B performs well in school. It’s the social aspect that he’s struggling with. He cannot handle being in a group (even a small one) with other kids. He’s aggressive, he acts out, and he’s too hard to handle. Even my one on one time with him is becoming a problem. It makes me feel so much like I felt when E was in grade school and EVERY SINGLE INTERACTION with the school was pure hell. But it’s different. Do you see?
Helpless. And failing at motherhood. At least by my boys. While I know that there’s issues that they could have that aren’t my fault…I worry that the choices that I’m responsible for making in how to best handle those issues are the wrong ones. It’s like sending your child down a slide that you determine to the best choice at the time, and hoping that he comes out the other end okay.
My confession today is this: I am pretty sure that I suck at being a mother of boys. Maybe even your “normal, well-adjusted” boys would have turned out all screwed up had they been raised by me. Who knows.