Everyone should get an Abby--but you can't have mine, she's busy enough as it is
December 13, 2011I was in the middle of composing the most sorrowful, self-loathing post ever when my friend Abby called. Abby, whom you may remember from our mall adventures or that time she murdered a chipmunk, is one of my dearest friends and will be for life because I will never let her go. She has three kids, and sometimes I think she tells them to scream/cry/cavort extra loud before she calls me so I can feel better about only having one. They're among my favorite children in the world, but they're children, and when they interact they do so at high decibels and with things around them crashing to the ground. I find it hilarious that she can engage in a conversation when it sounds like the children are setting everything on fire a few feet away.
Her son is the oldest, and he's exactly one month older than Henry, so we often check in to see if some recent aberrant behavior means that one of our children is having a problem, or there's just some developmental age-related mischief at work in their increasingly lanky bodies. Henry and her son Ben are really similar, both of them smart and intense and maybe a little too sensitive for their own comfort. I think Ben is far more easygoing, but that might be because he's not mine and therefore does not push my buttons.
Which brings me back to how I was writing this depressing post, the gist of which was that I am the worst parent ever, have no idea what I'm doing, and should probably pack up and find my son a well-trained governess or related expert who can deal with him in a manner that doesn't involve 1) shouting and 2) more shouting. Because my buttons these days--oh, friends. My buttons. They are all pushed. They have been mashed down so far that they're all broken and I'm like a stuck apartment door buzzer that won't turn off and is just buzzing NO STOP IT I SAID STOP IT GAAAAH.
It's not that he's doing anything that horrible, but oh my god, everything is so…dramatic, lately. There is so much noise. It seems to be noise that is specifically designed to drive us to the limits of patience. It is usually high-pitched and/or repetitive until we are begging for mercy. There is yelling. The yelling is ignored. (And then there is more yelling. The illogic in this does not escape me.) Everything--getting dressed, getting teeth brushed, not petting the cat until she lashes out in cat-fury--everything is a fight. Everything. It's becoming so predictable that the minute we start up I just begin to yell because I can't take it. And then I end the day with a headache and a sore throat and I feel like a monster. Oh! And my child tells me that he thinks he's a bad person and I fully blame myself, and I wake up in the middle of the night wracked with anxiety because I've probably ruined my child's life.
But then Abby called. And Abby described life with her son, and life with HER son is eerily similar if not IDENTICAL to life with mine. All the same behaviors are on display. The noise- and trouble-making. The emotions running at a fever pitch. The expressions of low self-esteem. It's like the two of them have been comparing notes! And Abby is waaahaaay more even-keeled and parenting-skilled than I am. She's definitely not screwing up her kids. Therefore, I concluded, I may not be screwing up mine! Oh, I'm so pretty sure!
We toyed with some strategies. Abby mused that perhaps we should just be extra-tolerant and humor them until they grow out of this phase. I thought this was sweet and adorable and I bet she'll be able to do it! As for me, I wondered if maybe they weren't looking for excuses to rage-weep because of some kind of internal turmoil, so maybe I was doing my son a favor by losing my shit. (Abby seemed skeptical but I think I nailed this!)
Although we reached no life-changing conclusions from our talk, there's already been an improvement around here. Because I'm no longer filled with despair. And I managed to get through the night without once leaping out of bed choking in panic. I can't tell you what a relief it is to discover that my parenting is really not the problem. The problem is nine-year-olds. Which unfortunately he's going to be for ten more months. Now that I'm getting some sleep, maybe I can figure out a way to ride this out.
Reader Comments (47)
I needed to read this post so badly. My nine year old has been making me feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm so glad to find out I'm not alone. Yesterday my youngest's preschool teacher sent home one of those "better parenting" fliers that talked about how bad it is to yell at your children. I felt so much guilt, until now! Thanks :)
Abby! I agree everyone needs an Abby. In fact, what you say makes me want to somehow hang around Abby's grocery store and 'accidentally' run into her...No, never mind! I won't do that!
You are on the right track though--Being batshit crazy is a developmental stage of children that they go through at various points--maybe every six months as far as I can tell.
Oh, the arguing. THE ARGUING. I try to tell myself that it is some great skill my child has that will somehow make her a world leader or something and she's just practicing on me. So when we fight, she's just honing her skills...This sounds better in my head.
I read a great book about this problem where the kids are driving you crazy and you yell. That's all I'm saying. I'm scared to ever make a recommendation on the internet. So I don't recommend the book and I don't say what it is. I'm just saying there's a book. And I read it and I don't know why but after that I yelled so much less. But actually, I think what Abby said is pretty much what the book said--I don't have an Abby so I went and got a book about it.
Madge! Hugs!
Snozma, you silly goose, recommend away! I totally appreciate it.
I feel like I yell at my nine-year-old son constantly. I couldn't figure out what was wrong...I mean just last month he was my sweet baby boy. Now, every little thing he does is annoying. Every little thing. Good to know it's just a nine-year-old thing.
Would also love that rec, snozma.
And just to make you all feel better, mine is 13 and he still does all of this. All of it. It's Days of Our Lives up in here. He's roughly 125 pounds and to hear him walk around the house you'd think I was living with Shaq in steel shoes. He drums on everything. Cleaning his room is the worst. thing. in. the. world. If one of his white tshirts shrinks in the laundry he wants to move out. If he doesn't like what's being prepared for dinner he goes all Gordon Ramsey.
Dear god I feel so much better. You are SO not alone. I just hope your stay in crazy town isn't as protracted as mine has been.
I almost feel like I'm joining an AA meeting. I have been in protracted crazy town for so long, that I can't remember what it's like not to be there. I have 4 children. They range in age from 17 to 4. I have some Italian heritage and I think it's law somewhere that we have to be hot blooded and hold loud shouting matches on a regular basis. I keep my eye on the prize and realize that there will be a day when they will move out and we will all be the best of friends all over again. Like we were when they were those sweet innocent kids who loved to snuggle, sing, and draw. Eye on the prize...eye.on.the.prize.
Oh no, I'm ruined! I have a 3-year-old and I keep thinking of 9 as this magical age where you can do everything with the kid and they are full of logic.
I don't want to plunge you back into despair, honestly I don't, but my son is almost 16 and I have been living the life you described since he was in second grade. We are both stuck in the cycle you described, and I end every day hating myself for responding like I was his age. The good news? Only two more years of homework battles!
Oh, my dear. Nine, huh? You really have no idea. . .oh, but sorry; I have two daughters and so how could I possibly know what drama means . . . okay no, I'm kidding.
It'll be fine. Try not to take it so personally (I know, really?)
The wee ones that were, now they are large & wear really big shoes? They are all about US and NOW and OMG HOW PATHETIC IS MY LIFE because they have no idea, none at all. You have to wait them out, take drugs if necessary, and eventually they will be lovely, intelligent and well-mannered young adults.
I know. Mine are now 28 and 20 and pure joy. Eight (and nine and ten and so on) were just awful. I hear your pain. Hang in there.
I do not have kids, so I bring nothing to this conversation. But I fully plan on yelling at the ones I eventually have if they are intolerable and I do not expect to feel bad about it. And, is it wrong that when I read Madge's comment about getting a flyer about not yelling at your kids, that I imagined getting such a letter and taking a lighter to it, in front of my kid? Just, you know, to make a point (not really sure what the point would be)? Am I going to be a bad parent? Am I watching too much cable television?
Piling on snozma for that book title. I have two boys, ages 3 and 5, and they both make me insane and I yell and yell some more and feel intensely guilty and then yell some more. I don't know how Abby can remain so calm when her children are destroying her house, because I can't. (Is there any point in having any nice things when you have children? Should I have sold our decent furniture when I gave birth to the first?)
I used to feel so bad when my son hit that stage. I loved him to death but I felt so bad for not liking him very much. The repetitive noise was what did me in. And the fact that everything he did was annoying. He is 15 now and still incredibly annoying, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I'm a teacher. Boys are annoying. Girls are too, but in a different, not quite so button-pushy way.
You know, a significant number of parenting blogs focus on the cute (but tough) early years...where are the stories of the middle years??? ( I get it, that by teenage years parents are brain-dead and cannot type out a full sentence. I'm very, very close.)
My own suspicion is that none of us will put the truth in print. No good can come of it!
I have a few months of ten-year-old drama left, and because she's a girl, I fear the worst for the next few years. And THIS is why wine was invented.
I'm wondering if this happens earlier in girls. I have an 8 year-old, and aside from being the most chaotic, disorganized mess I've ever known (ahem, I have NO idea where she gets that tendency from), I have to tell her six to eight times to do everything--brush her teeth, clean up her room, put on her pajamas (I just had to tell her four times to put on her pajamas!). Then she gets upset because by the fourth or fifth time, I'm shouting. Lovely times!
Oh, the flashbacks . . . when my son was around that age he was insane. Well not really, but every single morning when he put his shoes on he would FLIP OUT because the seams on his socks bothered him if they weren't in just exactly the right place, and they were never, ever in the right place. Sometimes he'd have to redo them three or four times and there was much wailing and yelling and then I would yell because he was always late to school because of all the wailing and flipping out. I honestly don't know how long that phase lasted; I blocked it out. Then he became a very quiet, sort of morose teenager who never left his room and I sort of missed the crazy hyper kid he had been before. The good news is that at 23 he's an amazing person who is sweet and thoughtful, incredibly funny, honest, responsible, doesn't freak out about his socks anymore, and calls me all the time and tells me what a great mother I am. Hang in there; Henry is a normal kid and I'm sure he'll be an amazing adult too. :)
I have an almost 20-month old daughter. If I hear one more person refer to her behavior as the TERRIBLE TWOS, I'm going to cut someone. Because from the evidence I've accumulated, three is worse than two and now I know that nine is the worst and then she'll be a teenager and why did I ever decide to have kids in the first place? But seriously, I call bullshit on the Terrible Twos and everyone who calls them Terrible.
Tansasser, 3 was indeed far worse than 2. Then things got bettere for several years, then we hit about 7 3/4, and all hell broke loose. That was a year ago. Things have been better for the past week or so, but I'm pretty sure it's just a temporary reprieve until Christmas...
Mine are in their 20s now and you would be amazed what pleasant, enjoyable people they have turned into. Interestingly, most of the other stuff has just blended together and I don't really remember a lot of the details. Except that 12 year old boys Cry. At. Everything.
It may be a little early for this, but the book that got me through my sons' adolescence was "Get Out of My Life, But First Could You Drive Me and Cheryl to the Mall?" I don't agree with everything in it - I think sometimes he lets the kids off too easy (easily?) - but it helped me a lot to understand why they were behaving that way and to learn to disengage when necessary.
I so badly needed to read this post, having my own nine-year-old brilliant dramatic rage-weeping son.
Alice, today you were my Abby. Thanks.
(And I'm so glad it's not all due to the fact that we live in India, rather than "America! Where everything is wonderful!" but that it's because HE'S NINE.)
Have you by chance been peeking through the windows of my house? I have a 9 year old that drives me CRAZY. Everything is so Intense and Emotional and just so Everything. I yell at her more than I would like. It makes me feel so bad. I was beginning to think that I was just a bad person. I was even thinking back to when she was a baby trying to convince myself, that yes, I did actually like and love this child when she was born. It's so good to read that others feel the way I do sometimes too. I wish more people would talk about this. All I ever read is how difficult two and three year olds are. Are you kidding me? That was a walk in the park. Gah, I may need to up my meds...
Alice Bradley, I hereby declare you wonderful.
Thank you for sharing.
So is the consensus here that yelling hasn't worked for the past decade and it isn't going to start working now? Because maybe we just aren't yelling enough. Although if I need to yell more, I am going to need some lozenges, I think.
I would ask my son's therapist about this, but he's more or less humorless. And also, I can't afford to eat up his pricey, pricey time with my theories, and the shooting-down thereof.
This post helps to remind me that I am not alone I this world. My daughter is about to turn 11 and just the other day I took her birthday away from her. I feel horrible about doing that in the heat of an argument but when she starts rolling she just pounds on my buttons and try's her best to hurt every single feeling I have.