How do we go from happily watching American Horror Story together to one child essentially running away from home? Granted, she’s safe, but that’s not really the point, is it? Why is he so hypercritical of them? They’re kids! We’ve taught them to question authority; not necessarily challenge authority, but to question it. Like it or not, as parents, we are the authority that our children question. No, they don’t listen. That’s because somewhere along the line, they developed minds of their own. They think for themselves, they make their own mistakes–as much as we want to protect them–and they have to learn to live with the consequences of those mistakes.
I just want peace and harmony, but when the father acts as immature as the children, what am I supposed to do? I can’t always be the responsible one. When do I get to be impulsive and irrational? Never. That’s when. Because, as the matriarch of this family, it’s my responsibility to be the glue that holds everyone together.
I’m the responsibly, mature grown up. The one that makes the appointments, gets them to school, and talks to their teachers. I’m the one that takes them to the doctor, psychiatrist, and emergency room. I’m the one that makes sure they have food, even if I don’t; the one that makes sacrifices and plans.
That’s not to say that, as a father, he doesn’t do his part, but he hasn’t got the patience that I do. And when at least one kid has become a carbon copy, inheriting the same pig-headed, inflexible thought process, it’s hard to get caught in the middle.
Sure, he stayed home with them when they were little. We knew that it wasn’t worth the financial drain to hire day care for them, so he stayed with them until they were all in school. But that’s when it was easy. Yes, easy. Believe me, changing diapers and 3 AM feedings are NOTHING compared to thinking, processing, irrational teenagers. They are complex, and occasionally difficult, but there are days when I would just as easily relive spit up and incessant crying rather than face another day of head-butting and boundary-pushing, questions about driving or sex, and even ideas about religion and life on other planets.
I know that Alan is very sensitive about religion and gay rights, so I have those conversations with the kids when he’s not around. It’s kind of a shame that he’s not willing to communicate with them about these things. Talk to them, not at them. They have questions and opinions, but they’re not comfortable talking to him about that because they know how he will react, how he’ll respond to their thoughts. Usually it’s a “my way or the highway” reaction, despite the fact that I’m on the polar opposite end of the spectrum on these and many other subjects.
It’s funny how he seems to pick which battles he wants to fight. He tells me on numerous occasions to “be a parent” and then turns around and does something amazingly selfish. Maybe it’s the way he was raised. I come from a big family. I’m used to noise and mess and madness. For him it was just his mom and dad and two sisters. He was kind of treated like the golden boy. (As much as I loved his parents, I blame them for the way he ultimately turned out.) If I wanted to be heard over the din of my brothers and sisters, I had to do something remarkable. Most of the time, I just wanted to disappear. (Lack of self-confidence, which I still carry with me today.)
As much as I complain about my kids, they’re my kids. I love them and most of the time I actually enjoy having them around. We talk about all kinds of oddball things and I’m never afraid to listen. I’m flattered that they actually confide in me. Not that do so all of the time, but when they do, it makes me very happy.
Is it just the nature of fathers to be hard-headed and overbearing or am I just too sensitive? Protecting my children (not necessarily physically, but emotionally) is one of my top priorities and being married to the man that I feel is sometimes the biggest threat to their emotional well-being is oftentimes very difficult. He’s my husband and they’re my children. Taking sides is not really an option. That’s why I try to remain neutral and keep peace and harmony on the top of my things to do today list.
One thing’s for sure, my children are deep thinkers. Maybe more than Alan realizes. They see everything, they hear everything, but they’re kids and they act just like the teenagers that they are. You can’t expect them to have the wisdom of the ages when they’ve only just begun to live their lives. They act on impulse and wear their hearts on their sleeves with raw emotion that they can barely contain. Throw in a healthy dose of ADHD, anxiety disorders, and depression and it’s a recipe for disaster. But to him, they’re fine. There’s nothing wrong with them. There can’t be, after all, they’re his kids and that would make him fallible. He’s never claimed to be perfect–who is?–but he would have us believe that any imperfection can’t be blamed on him. Not his kids.
Right now, I’m watching as Christian tries to convince Jordan that they need to help their father be a good father. Wow. That’s deep thinking.