Parenting and Its Discontents
Jun. 25th, 2016 12:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraWent over to the ________ to talk up Will Yandik, Ed and Pat being two of the only real live registered Democrats in these parts. (Despite the fact that FDR is the major cottage industry, Hyde Park is heavy Republican territory.)
Ed was sitting in the backyard. “Welcome,” he said. “On this glorious June day, I am contemplating the perfection of the universe.”
I gave my spiel – Will Yandik, local boy, fourth generation farmer, far to the left on all issues except gun ownership – but he supports gun control and the Safe Act! Plus he spearheaded the successful campaign to prevent Albany from turning vast swathes of Columbia County into a power grid to supply the ever-increasing demands of computer-using hipsters, video game obsessives, and air-conditioning addicts far away in the Imperial City of Manhattan.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “I like Zephry Teachout. And I’d love to see Hogwarts give her tenure! Thing is, though, she’s a carpetbagger! She has no idea what the issues are here in the 19th Congressional District. She wants to platform to national prominence; figured that since no incumbent is running in this election, it would be easier to win; and rented a house. She doesn’t have a clue what’s going on here, and I think she’ll get beat handily in November even if Hillary Clinton carries the district. She and Yandik have virtually point-by-point agreement on all the national issues except guns.”
“I’ll consider it,” Ed said, eying the shiny Yandik flier I’d presented him with. “How’s your younger son doing?”
I’d run into Ed shortly after the graduation debacle. And since I was still reeling from that, I’d given him the unfiltered account. Too much information, perhaps. Given the nature of my acquaintance with Ed.
But it was Ed who actually had one of the most perceptive insights into what might actually be going on with Robin. “The timing of his ‘acting out’ (as you call it) is interesting, don’t you think? I mean, most kids who flunk out do it in their first or second year. Robin did it the very last semester before he was due to graduate. What do you think could be going on there?”
Interesting! Because sometime during last year, RTT had actually started talking about staying an extra year so he could graduate with two majors –
He really does not want to leave school. He’s really anxious about whatever it is that’s supposed to happen next.
“Robin seems to be doing okay, I guess,” I told Ed. “I really can’t read Robin very well. He and his father seem to have slipped right back into their old codependant relationship, but there’s really nothing I can do about that. So…” I shrugged.
We started talking on a different level then. About our kids. About parenting.
I used to have a huge amount of guilt about Robin because I was mostly an absentee parent when he was growing up. Hey! Somebody had to support the family. And since Ben didn’t seem to have the slightest inclination to do so, that burden fell upon me. We did the role reversal thing: I was Daddy; Ben was Mommy.
Except Ben, to my way of looking at things, was not a very good Mommy. He didn’t impose any structure. He seemed not to understand the word, “No.”
“See, I think the world is an inherently scary place for kids,” I told Ed. “I think it's routines that give children the feeling of safety. Up to the age of around ten or so when they start exploring, start cobbling together their own definition of safety.
“Robin never had any bedtime routine. And that really bothered me. Bath, story, bed by 8:30. I believe in those things. And Ben would say, ‘But he’s not ready to go to sleep at 8:30!’ And I would say, ‘But that doesn’t matter!’ Part of it is about the kid, but part of it is about you, of course. Kids are supposed to go to bed at 8:30 so parents can enjoy some quality grownup time without them.”
I sighed. “Anyway, it’s interesting. Robin has said to me more than once, ‘I wish you’d told me no more often when I was a kid.’ Although whenever I did tell him, ‘No,’ we had these raging, screaming fights.”
“What do you think he was really saying when he said that?” Ed asked. “And when he says he wishes you would nag him more?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t nag people. I have a really libertarian personality. I think adult people should do whatever the hell they want. Although if someone asks me what I think they should do, I’ll tell them.”
“Well, I may be completely off the wall here and completely trespassing the bounds of polite conversation,” Ed said, “but to me it sounds like he’s looking for some sign that you love him. That nagging is love.”
Insightful again!
I think Ed may be right. Ben nags. And nags and nags and nags.
And Robin is absolutely certain that Ben loves him.
To me he says things like, “I don’t even feel like you’re my mother. You’re just this person on the periphery of my life.”
###
One day, about a month before I left Ithaca, Robin had somehow suckered me into driving him to some kind of job interview. It was close to 100 degrees out. And, of course, my car had no air-conditioning, and we had to drive with the windows down, which did not seem to cool the interior of the car down but only to suck the swelter into the car.
Robin started complaining that he hadn’t gotten enough high school graduation presents.
And I just totally lost it.
I can’t remember what I’d gotten him, but it was something, and something I’d had to work extra hours to afford at stuff I did not like to do. And his father had gotten him something, and his Uncle Lew, and even my first X-husband and his wife had sent $100. If Robin hadn’t gotten more, it was his own damn fault; it was because he’d made no effort whatsoever to stay in contact with any of the family members who might look upon his graduation as a joyous celebration.
I let Robin have it. “You got plenty of graduation gifts,” I snarled. “And you know what? You should be happy about them! You should be grateful instead of whining about how you’re entitled to more –“
Robin turned vicious then.
For five minutes, he sat in that car hurling insults and invective at me.
And I was paralyzed sitting there thinking, This is ironic. I had no plans whatsoever to be your chauffeur today, but I agreed to drive you here because I’m your mother and I want to be helpful –
Finally, Robin narrowed his eyes at me and said, “You just love playing the victim, don’t you? It’s all about what a victim you are all of the time.”
I was stunned.
All the things that had happened to me in the space of that one year. I lost my business. I lost my home. My husband walked out on me. I moved 3,500 miles away from anyone who cared whether I lived or died. I was a victim if it came to that. But I’d tried so hard to soldier on, to persevere, to do what needed to be done, which was basically to provide some kind of home for Robin and to make sure he graduated from high school.
There's a great moment in Broadcast News when Albert Brooks turns to Holly Hunter and asks: Wouldn’t this be a great world if neediness and desperation were attractive?
That was me in Ithaca. Nobody wanted to be my friend. It was like I was emanating great invisible waves of repulsiveness.
And my own kid was saying these things to me…
“Get out of my car,” I told him.
###
I must have seen Robin after that before I left Ithaca. At Ben’s bedside if nowhere else. When Ben was lying in the ICU in a hepatic encephalitic coma. When I really thought that Ben was going to die.
But I really don’t remember.
###
Back to the perfect universe on a perfect June day.
I sigh and shrug at Ed. “I love Robin. But it’s not the unconditional love that one might feel for a younger child, you know, and I’m no longer willing to jump through any kind of hoop for him to prove my love. I’m just not. I wouldn’t say we have a particularly good or close relationship. I’m open to improving it, but that impetus would have to come from him at this point. And frankly, I don’t think he’s at all interested.”
Ed was sitting in the backyard. “Welcome,” he said. “On this glorious June day, I am contemplating the perfection of the universe.”
I gave my spiel – Will Yandik, local boy, fourth generation farmer, far to the left on all issues except gun ownership – but he supports gun control and the Safe Act! Plus he spearheaded the successful campaign to prevent Albany from turning vast swathes of Columbia County into a power grid to supply the ever-increasing demands of computer-using hipsters, video game obsessives, and air-conditioning addicts far away in the Imperial City of Manhattan.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “I like Zephry Teachout. And I’d love to see Hogwarts give her tenure! Thing is, though, she’s a carpetbagger! She has no idea what the issues are here in the 19th Congressional District. She wants to platform to national prominence; figured that since no incumbent is running in this election, it would be easier to win; and rented a house. She doesn’t have a clue what’s going on here, and I think she’ll get beat handily in November even if Hillary Clinton carries the district. She and Yandik have virtually point-by-point agreement on all the national issues except guns.”
“I’ll consider it,” Ed said, eying the shiny Yandik flier I’d presented him with. “How’s your younger son doing?”
I’d run into Ed shortly after the graduation debacle. And since I was still reeling from that, I’d given him the unfiltered account. Too much information, perhaps. Given the nature of my acquaintance with Ed.
But it was Ed who actually had one of the most perceptive insights into what might actually be going on with Robin. “The timing of his ‘acting out’ (as you call it) is interesting, don’t you think? I mean, most kids who flunk out do it in their first or second year. Robin did it the very last semester before he was due to graduate. What do you think could be going on there?”
Interesting! Because sometime during last year, RTT had actually started talking about staying an extra year so he could graduate with two majors –
He really does not want to leave school. He’s really anxious about whatever it is that’s supposed to happen next.
“Robin seems to be doing okay, I guess,” I told Ed. “I really can’t read Robin very well. He and his father seem to have slipped right back into their old codependant relationship, but there’s really nothing I can do about that. So…” I shrugged.
We started talking on a different level then. About our kids. About parenting.
I used to have a huge amount of guilt about Robin because I was mostly an absentee parent when he was growing up. Hey! Somebody had to support the family. And since Ben didn’t seem to have the slightest inclination to do so, that burden fell upon me. We did the role reversal thing: I was Daddy; Ben was Mommy.
Except Ben, to my way of looking at things, was not a very good Mommy. He didn’t impose any structure. He seemed not to understand the word, “No.”
“See, I think the world is an inherently scary place for kids,” I told Ed. “I think it's routines that give children the feeling of safety. Up to the age of around ten or so when they start exploring, start cobbling together their own definition of safety.
“Robin never had any bedtime routine. And that really bothered me. Bath, story, bed by 8:30. I believe in those things. And Ben would say, ‘But he’s not ready to go to sleep at 8:30!’ And I would say, ‘But that doesn’t matter!’ Part of it is about the kid, but part of it is about you, of course. Kids are supposed to go to bed at 8:30 so parents can enjoy some quality grownup time without them.”
I sighed. “Anyway, it’s interesting. Robin has said to me more than once, ‘I wish you’d told me no more often when I was a kid.’ Although whenever I did tell him, ‘No,’ we had these raging, screaming fights.”
“What do you think he was really saying when he said that?” Ed asked. “And when he says he wishes you would nag him more?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t nag people. I have a really libertarian personality. I think adult people should do whatever the hell they want. Although if someone asks me what I think they should do, I’ll tell them.”
“Well, I may be completely off the wall here and completely trespassing the bounds of polite conversation,” Ed said, “but to me it sounds like he’s looking for some sign that you love him. That nagging is love.”
Insightful again!
I think Ed may be right. Ben nags. And nags and nags and nags.
And Robin is absolutely certain that Ben loves him.
To me he says things like, “I don’t even feel like you’re my mother. You’re just this person on the periphery of my life.”
###
One day, about a month before I left Ithaca, Robin had somehow suckered me into driving him to some kind of job interview. It was close to 100 degrees out. And, of course, my car had no air-conditioning, and we had to drive with the windows down, which did not seem to cool the interior of the car down but only to suck the swelter into the car.
Robin started complaining that he hadn’t gotten enough high school graduation presents.
And I just totally lost it.
I can’t remember what I’d gotten him, but it was something, and something I’d had to work extra hours to afford at stuff I did not like to do. And his father had gotten him something, and his Uncle Lew, and even my first X-husband and his wife had sent $100. If Robin hadn’t gotten more, it was his own damn fault; it was because he’d made no effort whatsoever to stay in contact with any of the family members who might look upon his graduation as a joyous celebration.
I let Robin have it. “You got plenty of graduation gifts,” I snarled. “And you know what? You should be happy about them! You should be grateful instead of whining about how you’re entitled to more –“
Robin turned vicious then.
For five minutes, he sat in that car hurling insults and invective at me.
And I was paralyzed sitting there thinking, This is ironic. I had no plans whatsoever to be your chauffeur today, but I agreed to drive you here because I’m your mother and I want to be helpful –
Finally, Robin narrowed his eyes at me and said, “You just love playing the victim, don’t you? It’s all about what a victim you are all of the time.”
I was stunned.
All the things that had happened to me in the space of that one year. I lost my business. I lost my home. My husband walked out on me. I moved 3,500 miles away from anyone who cared whether I lived or died. I was a victim if it came to that. But I’d tried so hard to soldier on, to persevere, to do what needed to be done, which was basically to provide some kind of home for Robin and to make sure he graduated from high school.
There's a great moment in Broadcast News when Albert Brooks turns to Holly Hunter and asks: Wouldn’t this be a great world if neediness and desperation were attractive?
That was me in Ithaca. Nobody wanted to be my friend. It was like I was emanating great invisible waves of repulsiveness.
And my own kid was saying these things to me…
“Get out of my car,” I told him.
###
I must have seen Robin after that before I left Ithaca. At Ben’s bedside if nowhere else. When Ben was lying in the ICU in a hepatic encephalitic coma. When I really thought that Ben was going to die.
But I really don’t remember.
###
Back to the perfect universe on a perfect June day.
I sigh and shrug at Ed. “I love Robin. But it’s not the unconditional love that one might feel for a younger child, you know, and I’m no longer willing to jump through any kind of hoop for him to prove my love. I’m just not. I wouldn’t say we have a particularly good or close relationship. I’m open to improving it, but that impetus would have to come from him at this point. And frankly, I don’t think he’s at all interested.”
