Over the few past years, things have been really tough. I am talking about packing my bags, getting on a plane, and hiding out in Australia tough. The “why have I made these life choices” tough. The “can I hit the reset button on life” tough. In my mind I have been expected to fix everything and everyone. My kid, my relationship, my students and all of their traumas that prevented me from doing my job–all of it. The world has been resting on my shoulders. Guess what? I am not in control of anyone else. Weird. I KNOW! I wish I had that kind of power.
I have been working tirelessly to help my boy kid learn to self regulate. If you have ever tried to help someone stay in control of their own emotions, you can understand this difficult task. Over the years, we have had a lot of painful moments, conversations, meetings, and even interactions with police officers. I generally assume that if I get a call from the school or any other person when I have been away from my kid, it is going to be a call telling me about something he has done, unintentionally blaming me for his poor behavior. After a couple of years of therapy, medication, and a lot of time and patience, I feel like we are finally making progress. New school. New chances. New reality.
Eight weeks in to the school year, I missed a call. This isn’t an ordinary call. This is the call I have been dreading the entire school year. I knew it was coming. It was just a matter of time. As I check my phone I see that it is my son’s school. I automatically think, “Oh, great. What did he do now?”. I run through the Rolodex of possibilities in my head. Quite honestly, there isn’t much that surprises me, but I never know if we will be heading into the next big thing. You see, every time something happens, I quietly think things can’t get worse than this situation. Of course, I am being irrational. I am aware of how things can go from bad to worse quickly. I take a breath and hope for the best.
I listened to my voicemail. The vice principal calmly and kindly left me a message explaining the situation. Mother effer! Winning streak over! The kid got suspended for bringing whittled sticks with sharp points to school. Fine to have at home, but at school that is a weapon. Well, great. Anyone who knows me will tell you I am not the kind of parent that has her head in the sand about her perfect angels. I am perfectly aware that both of my kids can be asshats…especially the boy kid. (I love them though). I can usually get the actual story out of him, but this time I have heard three very different accounts and so I am in limbo, not knowing why this event happened. He is in-school suspended for the day. Fair.
Next day he is headed back to school. I am confident that this is behind us and we are ready to move back to our successful year. This is known as false hopes and dreams. We started that day out with a really epic battle about who got to sit in the front seat that day which ended in, “OMG!! No one gets to sit up here you crazy little train wrecks. Get in the back and I will chauffeur you around from here until forever!”
About an hour into school I get another call. My heart sinks. My chest tightens. My brain runs through the check list. I am mentally preparing to pick the kid up from school early. I muster up enough courage to listen to my voice message. Detention. Cool.
Long story short, the kid…MY KID…was being a big fat jerk face to some other kids and ends up getting himself into a bit of a situation. He totally has it coming to him. Do the crime, do the time…so sit in school jail kid. Maybe that will teach you!
It didn’t.
Call #3. New week, but only one successful school day from the last incident. This time, he was set off within the first few minutes of his first class. A kid he has had a not so awesome history with called him a cry baby twice and my angel kid ended up putting hands on this said student…although he will deny it to this day. Suspension. Not one, but two days. UUUGGGGHHH!!!! We are getting into a pattern I know all too well and I am not interested in going back to that anytime soon.
At this point it automatically becomes about me.
Why isn’t he listening? Why is he still doing these things that get him into trouble? Why am I wasting my time to take him to therapy. What do I need to talk to his therapist about so we can fix him? Why me? Why can’t I parent? What am I doing wrong? How can I make this better? ME, ME, ME.
All of my training tells me that behavior always makes sense. I am sure something is going on for him to start acting like this after such a successful start of the year. I know he is a kid who is having a hard time. I know… I know… I know… But even with everything I know and everything I have tried and everything I THINK I am prepared to handle, these phone calls still knock the wind out of my sail and make me feel like I am the world’s worst parent and my kid is the worse kid in school (which I also know is not true).
As a parent of a tough kid, you develop some trauma around any kind of interaction where you have to prepare to defend your child in some way—even when you know your kid is wrong. Your body has a physical response any time you sense that something is coming. You relive the nightmarish hell that has been the reality of the past few years. You have no idea if this incident is going to set off a new cycle of tough behaviors that you are not mentally capable of doing again. Hope is shattered.
Eventually you try to give phone calls and conversations the benefit of the doubt, but in the back of your mind, you know that at any point things can turn sideways. I am not sure how long it will take me to relax when I see a phone call, letter, or email with my boy as a subject. I honestly don’t know if it is even possible.
After holding my breath for the next week or two after the sudden behavior issues, things started to feel okay again. Something was clearly going on, but I will probably never know what. We made it through to Christmas break without any additional phone calls home. The hardest thing I am learning about being a parent is that I need to trust that my kid can figure these things out on his own and I can step back and let him try to solve his own problems without me swooping in to save the day. I will, however, be here to support him when necessary.
He has been armed with skills and strategies that he is learning how to use. I am sure there are still things going on that I don’t know about. I am sure that he is still fumbling through awkward social interactions which would tear my mom heart right out of my chest. I am sure that he will find his tribe and figure out where he belongs, because I had to do the same.
This next year, this new decade, is sure to bring new phone calls and situations that I am not really prepared to handle. As I look forward, I am reminding myself to focus on what it is that I can control, that I can only control my own actions while everyone is in charge of their actions. Most importantly, I need to trust that everything will work itself out and no matter what, I will be okay.