A discipline

I spend my time reprimanding, these days.
Lecturing, setting limits, cajoling, ordering, counting down, laying down the law.
It is the Age of Chastisement.
Even my consoling is tainted with lessons and consequences.
There is very little laughter left,
our lighthearted moments islands amidst rough seas.
Things are easier in so many ways, physically, logistically.
Bonhomme gets dressed by himself – although generally not without drama.
He gets up, finds a snack, turns on the TV, and plays, blessing us with much appreciated extra sleep on weekend mornings.
He opens his own car door and does up his own seat belt, he helps to carry in groceries.
He begs to help with laundry and window washing.
But so much is fraught with his temper, his dawdling, his pushing of every boundary.
Tantrums when he doesn’t win at a game.
Twenty minutes to brush his teeth.
Every tiny bobo a scream, a wail, a scene.
Endless negotiations regarding vegetables and books and shoes and videogames.
Fury and frustration and bitterness and resentment as he explores his full range of emotions, only molding himself to his world when it refuses to mold to him.
I find myself thinking often of my mother these days, having had three of us by the time I’d had one. Raising my eldest sister most of all, a lifelong manic depressive.
What must it have been like?
I remember only too well how volatile it was, to be around my sister, simply being in her orbit. But to be the focus of all that intensity?
My mother survived it, as all mothers do, mothering one day at a time, waiting it out.
I count my blessings every day, every minute, that I have a healthy child, albeit an intense one also. But, a balanced intensity, helped along by ongoing forgeing and tempering.
A loud child, yes, who lives every aspect of life at high volume.
I, who learned to find peace in solitude at an early age, cringe often.
And shush, explain, console, encourage, correct, direct, and repeat.
Stand firm.
And wait.


1 comment so far

  1. Moosilaneous on

    I feel your pain, and wonder like you, how my mother ever managed. I assure you: you are doing a great job!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: