Categories: uncategorized
Date: 15 November 2008 15:11:39
I wish I had the energy at the moment to deal in a positive way with my younger son's grumps. He's angry, he's miserable, he's showing signs of turning into a pre-teen too, and today I simply cannot be bothered with it.
I tried. I decided we both needed cheering up so I suggested we go out for the afternoon. Oh yes, bright idea that was. My plan was to catch the bus to the Needles, but the bus is too irregular to risk it on a cold afternoon - if we got cold and miserable it'd be an hour's wait before we could come back. Bloody winter timetables. His suggestion was to go to Robin Hill, knowing full well it closes for the winter at the beginning of November. But because his only choice was shut, anger set in and every suggestion I made was met with scorn. I know I'd probably have been better just telling him we were going out and going - even if only for a walk in the forest - but by this time the best of the weather has gone.
Trouble is, he's now showing even more the insecurity that he always shows - he shows no initiative to do things at all unless I say "Why don't you..." and he takes it as a mammoth rejection if a) I suggest he does something which does not directly involve me and b) I suggest he does something in a room other than the room I am in. This is not just with recent events, he's always been the same, but now of course it's worse, and his moping around gets me down too. Of course, I do do things with him but I don't think it's entirely healthy for either of us for this to be my full time occupation as though he were still 2. But then, it isn't awfully healthy, either, for him to spend his time sitting moping on the settee, doing absolutely nothing. So at the moment he's in his room, I think, angrily playing with his Hornby and determined not to enjoy it. And I'm moping in the lounge, wishing the sun was shining and I felt more like being "Mother Perfect" to my angry son.
(I can understand the depressed bit, but the adolescent bit drives me mad: the "you won't let me be independent, you won't let me make the choices, you won't let me be in control" followed by anger because I refuse to direct his play. I sense a trying time through his teenage years, don't you?)
Ho hum, I think I might run away and hide in the bath for an hour. What do you reckon?