Until the Day That 8 Times 8 Times 8 is Four
March 30, 2010
To My Nine year Old Son a.k.a Fabio,
You have become quite fond lately of saying that I (meaning me) do not love you (my beloved child)
Whenever I have to reprimand you, deny a request, force you to do homework, basically anytime you are not able to have your own way. Your own way meaning playing outside, going to arcades, and eating pizza and ice cream.
I am so, so very mean. I get that.
And this is the worst insult that you can think to say to hurt me. I get that.
I find it annoying. Sometimes I overenthusiastically agree with you.
Why, you are right! I do hate you! And I enjoy taking care of people I hate! And getting up at 5am every morning to make them lunch! And downloading songs onto their ipods for them! And reading them stories! And making sure people I hate take their vitamins and shower and brush their teeth!Those are the things I do for people I hate! Good thing I don’t love you.
Sometimes you will yell back at me.
You have to do those things.
And I respond.
Yes, I do have to do them. But only because those are the things you do for people you love.
Most often you just smile though.
Because you know the truth, how could I possibly NOT love you?
Like the Stevie Wonder song I sing to you, I’ll be loving you always.
Secretly I think you love when I sing to you. Deep, deep down. So far down you don’t even know you enjoy it.
*****
8 times 8 times 8 isn’t four.
I know.
So that makes no sense. The answer will never be four!
I know.
I see a glimmer of understanding in your eyes.
See, learning your multiplication tables is good for something after all.
*****
Saturday you had a baseball game. You have been struggling this season. You moved up a division and are the youngest on you team. I see your frustration and your tears. You are a perfectionist. But that isn’t what it it looks like to other people. When you come back to the dugout after striking out and your coach tries to high-five you and tell you something positive, you refuse to give him a high five. In fact, you refuse to even make eye contact.
Your coaches are usually left with their hand hanging in the air and they have no choice but to pat you on the head as you walk by. I know you do this because you do not think you are worthy of their kind words when you don’t succeed. You hate false praise more than anything.
You are so very hard on yourself. No one will ever treat you the way you treat yourself. I tell you all the time that it is your effort that matters the most. That you should lighten up. Cut yourself some slack. I wish you would treat yourself with the same amount of kindness you extend to everyone else.
Saturday at your game you asked me if I would buy you a Gatorade. You know I hate those sugar filled drinks, but I said I would. Just get a hit the next time you are up at bat. You didn’t get a hit. I bought you the Gatorade anyway. You didn’t want to take it.
******
On the way home from the game you began saying that your stomach hurt. We have had some sort of stomach bug going through our house so this wasn’t wholly unexpected.
We barely made it home. You ran in the door, straight to the bathroom. A moment later I heard you scream for me.
I think in the future you will probably look to make sure the toilet lid is open before you throw up.
At least I hope so.
Also, I really hope you you stop saying that I hate you. There are very few people in this world that I love enough to clean up a bathroom that required two rolls of papertowels, a large box of baking soda, and half a bottle of bleach. And even less people I love enough to untie their vomit covered cleats. Seven, as a matter of fact.
*****
Always.
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So well spoken. I have a child who speaks this same language!
March 30th, 2010 at 10:13 amOh man, what an ender! My 6 year old is very much like this, except for the being hard on himself and perfectionist. He just thinks we hate him and live to make his life miserable. Hopefully he learns soon that isn’t the case!
March 30th, 2010 at 10:22 amIt sounds like your son is well on his way to adulthood. You write it tenderly and with humour. Thanks for sharing.
March 30th, 2010 at 10:27 amOh that sweet boy! He definitely is a thinker and internalizes everything just like my 9-year-old daughter. She also tells me “you don’t love me” when she’s tired. [sigh] What can we do but love them to their very core…especially when they give us one of their smiles or their hugs. Hope your son feels better soon!
March 30th, 2010 at 10:29 amHad to swallow hard to keep the tears from flowing over the lids of my eyes this time. I don’t know when a story about vomit covered shoelaces has been so poignant. Very few people in the world that we love enough to do those things… indeed. Love this post chris. Thanks for sharing.
March 30th, 2010 at 10:34 amchris, again, I’m teary eyed reading this. This line gets me: You are so very hard on yourself. No one will ever treat you the way you treat yourself - -My 6 year old is so hard on herself — this line really hit home.
I hope fabio is feeling better…
March 30th, 2010 at 10:37 amYour “Fabio” sounds a lot like my two 10-year-olds. Especially the sports performance part. Perfect is never good enough; and kind, supportive words fall on not just deaf ears, but scowls and dirty looks. Yes, people think my kids are “poor sports” sometimes, but I know that’s the farthest from the truth.
And these kids also remind me quite often of how much I, apparently, hate them. A sentiment their 8-y.o. brother almost always chimes in on.
We may be the worst moms ever and hate our kids, but where would they be without us? That’s right… standing alone in a bathroom, covered in vomit. Thank goodness we “hate” them so much!
March 30th, 2010 at 10:44 amAwwww….
This seems like such a tough age for kids (granted, I’m sure every age has its own problems).
My son is 9 and I find that it’s not quite as easy to cheer him up when he is having a bad day as it used to be. No more acting goofy to get them to crack a smile. No more giving special treats to make them happy.
I feel like a therapist trying to flounder my way to giving them the right advice. Or just trying to get him to talk it out instead of holding it in.
Sometimes I (jokingly) think women should be required to hold a psychology degree before having kids. Maybe then it will be easier for us to understand and react to our children the way they need us to.
I love to read your blog because you always have a unique way of handling the grief your kids hand out.
March 30th, 2010 at 10:44 amI guess it is an age thing. My son is almost nine and any time I try discipline him he says “You Guys Don’t Love Me…” He has lately added…”you might as well just stab me with a knife.” Yes son, I might as well, you not getting that Justin Bieber CD means life is not worth living…I am expecting that the drama is just going to get bigger as he gets older.
March 30th, 2010 at 10:48 amI wonder if you realize what a great role model you are. For your children, obviously. But also for parents like me who are trying to find our way.
March 30th, 2010 at 11:04 amOh my, he’s lucky you hate him. I’d have at least made untie his own shoes.
March 30th, 2010 at 11:47 am*sniff* That made me tear up, Chris! I’ve been having similar trouble with my thirteen-year-old daughter. Kids - they always go right for the gut - they know exactly what to say to hurt us the most.
The only upside? They would never say it if they thought even for a fraction of a second it was true.
March 30th, 2010 at 11:48 amMy eight-year-old is saying the same thing to me. Must be going around.
And now I need to get this darned dust out of my eyes.
March 30th, 2010 at 12:30 pmYour nine year old son sounds so much like mine, and I wish that I could come over to your house and get some parenting advice. He drives me crazy and makes me laugh like no one else. He is struggling with everything right now and is hardest on himself.
Thank you for this great post, as always!
March 30th, 2010 at 12:49 pmMy 8 year old is the same way. Sometimes being the fabulous mom that I am (not) I find myself yelling back ‘yes son, I do love you, but I do not like you right now’ - which I think hurts just as bad as me telling him I don’t love him.
March 30th, 2010 at 12:56 pmAnd only good moms touch their childrens vomit without vomiting themselves!
Poop or vomit clean-up? I guess it’s a toss-up depending on the location, time of day and whether long hair is involved.
March 30th, 2010 at 1:42 pmDear Chris,
I think you just described my 11 year old son.
So kind, so hard on himself. INCREDIBLY hard on himself. It is hard to watch and I have no idea how to teach him to stop beating himself up in his own head.
March 30th, 2010 at 1:51 pmhysterical and poignant at the same time. why I enjoy reading this blog.
March 30th, 2010 at 1:53 pmThank you for writing about your big kids. I’ve noticed most moms stop writing about their kids once they get big enough to have “real” problems - you know, after potty training, etc.
March 30th, 2010 at 2:55 pmYou’ve found a great way to write about your life with older children without compromising their privacy.
this post and the last birthday post both brought tears to my eyes. so beautifully written!
March 30th, 2010 at 3:00 pmI was okay until the cleats. I once cut a vomit-covered pajama shirt off my daughter’s body with (long-handled) scissors and threw it out. I probably would have attempted something like that with the cleats.
March 30th, 2010 at 3:34 pmExcellent Chris. Just excellent. It is the boys like him who become admirable men.
Chris says: I hope so.
March 30th, 2010 at 3:51 pmOh Chris…..such a difficult time for these kids of ours. That “inbetween” period. Good luck…it does turn around, it just hurts like hell until it does. (((( )))))
March 30th, 2010 at 4:38 pmNow THAT? That is love. Even he can’t argue with that on his grouchiest of days.
March 30th, 2010 at 5:00 pmTwo in a row that have brought tears to my eyes.
March 30th, 2010 at 5:06 pmThat is an excellent post; thanks for sharing. and - kudos to you on the cleanup; that cannot have been fun.
it must be love.
March 30th, 2010 at 5:39 pmWhat a great post. I feel for you having to clean up throw up. I wouldn’t have been able to do it. That is a mom though:)
March 30th, 2010 at 10:01 pmDang. That was above excellent.
March 30th, 2010 at 10:03 pmSometimes I wish I was your kid.
(Minus the stomach flu)
March 30th, 2010 at 11:01 pmOh dear….I read this bobbing my head because I can totally relate - my 6 y/o, who was dethroned from “youngest” last April and is now the “middle child,” has been CONSTANTLY telling me that I must surely hate him, not love him, etc, etc.
But then your last 4 paragraphs made me laugh uncontrollably. Because I laugh when people do things super gross/painful - it’s tacky, I know, but it’s hard to suppress. Poor guy. Poor mom!
March 31st, 2010 at 12:51 amSometimes your writing is so beautiful and I can relate so deeply that it takes my breath away. Other days, I just get teary eyed…but every day, I enjoy it.
March 31st, 2010 at 1:34 amOh, god, noooo!!! You must be having flashbacks to the big barf-o-rama where it was on the walls and everywhere. Yes, these are definitely the things we do for the people we “hate!”
Chris says: Oh God, NOTHING will ever compare to that nightmare. At least I hope not. shudder
March 31st, 2010 at 6:40 amHow are his multiplication tables coming? Are there huge ice cream sundaes happening every Friday?
March 31st, 2010 at 8:02 am“I ATE and ATE ’til I was SICK on the FLOOR….EIGHT times EIGHT is SIXTY-FOUR”
March 31st, 2010 at 8:38 amA mnemonic that my daughter just learned for that multiplication fact. (And surprisingly fitting for the end of this post!)
Hope he’s feeling better!
I think we have all had/will have this conversation with our children. It is so hard on us when they use that hate word. It cuts us to the core. Thanks again for sharing. We share the same experences but you have a way of bringing them to life with your words.
March 31st, 2010 at 8:39 amYou are such a hater, Chris
March 31st, 2010 at 2:07 pmi love it!!! your son and mine sound the same. we are calling it 9 year old idis!! i know he will grow out of it some day!!!!
March 31st, 2010 at 3:40 pmIsn’t “hate” grand? I too hate my children. I get up every morning and make their lunches. And although I just LOVE doing laundry (NOT!) I make sure that they have clean uniforms and any necessary funds that is needed that they just remembered 10 minutes before leaving the house. Oh yeah, and the fact that, you know, they are spoiled bratlings, although they do not get everything they want, they have everything they need and then some. Just imagine what there lives would be like if we LOVED them! Such torture. I’ve offered to put them up for adoption or placed into foster care, but no one will “hate” them as much as I and their dad. At what age does the drama stop?
March 31st, 2010 at 8:16 pmI’m soooo glad I’m not the only one with a 9 year old who acts EXACTLY like this…. I am so relieved. Must be the age.
April 1st, 2010 at 12:36 pmMy son is a lot like your #5 son - he is so much harder on himself than on anyone else and doesn’t accept false praise. Hearing you put it in those words helps me to better articulate his personality.
Only seven? I guess that means your husband has to take off his own vomit covered shoes.
April 1st, 2010 at 2:51 pmWell, my ‘big’ dude is 10, but I’m in your same boat.
I so enjoy washing nasty baseball uniforms for someone I don’t love.
April 2nd, 2010 at 7:07 pmLongtime reader. Love the 2nd person POV. I think that reading your last two posts has uncorked something that has been making me reluctant to write as frequently as I should.
http://www.cazenoviacreek.com/2010/04/tonight-i-drove-you-both-home-way-past.html
April 2nd, 2010 at 11:29 pmbeautiful - even with the whole vomit incident :o)
April 3rd, 2010 at 8:04 pm