Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Wordy Wednesday Week 6: Letting Go
He has always been one to throw a fit when he's told to do something that he doesn't want to do. It's beginning to be a little more than a fit. This morning we had a tussle. After repeatedly telling him to get out of bed, he came downstairs and acted like he was punching me in the face. I slapped him. He was not given his phone because his dad and I decided it should stay home instead of leaving the house to get lost again.
These two things obviously upset him and our morning consisted of this plus him grabbing my finger and bending it back, cursing at me, throwing pens, pencils, and his backpack at me, refusing to take his medicine, threatening to call the police and telling me that he wasn't going to come home after school today. It's 9:30 and I'm exhausted already.
There are a lot of things I can claim to have done wrong. Maybe there was a better way of waking him up and obviously slapping him in the face set him off too. What does he think though is going to happen when you catch someone out of the blue and pretend to punch them?
The words today come from a poem that I found back in the spring when I was first starting to really contemplate the idea of letting him go live with his dad. I guess there can be a lot of different interpretations for this poem. If you look at it literally, it's definitely a beautiful and peaceful poem about nature that vividly describes the changing seasons. For me personally though, I saw it as a metaphor on life.
Having shared custody between two families is an extremely complicated process. Magnified if the two families do not see eye to eye on any issues relating to the rearing of the child. Of course who this is most detrimental on is the child.
I am definitely not perfect in my child rearing abilities and I know I have made mistakes. Unfortunately my mistakes are always put on display because I am the one who is the "bad guy". I'm the one that pays the bills, I'm the one that deals with school and homework, I'm the one that organizes activities to keep my son out of trouble, I'm the one that plays the role of the adult and I'm the one that is constantly criticized for my decisions by both my child and my ex.
I guess what I'm saying is, I wonder if now I've done all that I can do. I know that my son is only 13 years old and still has much to learn from the adults in his life but it seems like it may be time for me to accept that I have given him all that I can these last 13 years and it's time for his dad to get it a shot and for my son to start making his own choices and facing his own consequences without mom "bailing him out".
The poem speaks to me as a metaphor on life's seasons and the trees are not just trees, but a symbol of humans "dressing" and "undressing" as they prepare for different stages of life. Right now, my son and I seem to be going through a season of birth and rebirth. My son is becoming a young man whether I like it or not. He is changing from my little baby boy to becoming his own person. I've prepared him the best I can to go out and make his own decisions and unfortunately we are at a point where he is no longer listening to what I have to say. Maybe it would be wise for me to take a step back and face the reality of winter while hoping for another spring.