I guess many parents worry if they've gone too far when disciplining their children. With our son, who was diagnosed with Aspberger's a few years ago, it is obvious we had many battles we shouldn't of had as some of those acts of defiance he had were in reality related to his condition and should have been handled differently. Since his diagnosis we have been more diligent in how we discipline him (we basically have to talk him off the edge of the cliff when he hits a wall) . Still I knew I was making mistakes as I still got upset over little things and reacted poorly, especially as he is now 12 and is starting to show flashes of some of the typical teenage behavior. So this summer I finally took affirmative steps to fix whatever bio-chemical misfiring in my head was causing me to lose it for which my doctor prescribed the generic version of Celexa which seems to have resolved many of anger issues. With the reduction of yelling by me since I started on my anti-depressant I thought I had turned a corned. However, our 7 year old daughter is really testing me these days. Makes me wonder how sedated I'm going to have to be during her teen years.
This is the first year she is leaving for school later than our son and I realize I have been spoiled. Last year, when both were in the same school, our son used one aspect of his condition, a fear of being late, to motivate our daughter to be ready for the bus a few minutes early. In years prior, my wife had always taken our daughter to pre-school so this is my first fall getting her off to the bus solo so I was unaware of how slow and sluggish my daughter can be in the morning. As I am time orientated like our son, this thunder storm should have been predicted. It was only a matter of time until our two air masses collided. Well after almost 4 weeks they finally did. We had our first big KA-BOOM moment Monday morning.
The fault is partially mine. I forgot she is not as self motivated to get ready for the bus as our son in the morning and when my phone chirped it's 6 minute warning, which used to be plenty of time for the kids to get jackets on and for me to leash the dogs for the quick walk to the corner, I was a bit surprised to see her still barefoot sitting at the table. I told her to get her shoes and socks on as we were going to be late. I guess I didn't emphasize the need for speed as she lollygagged over to her favorite pink boots instead of putting on her sneakers and socks. As it takes awhile to get those boots on, and she has a busted wing, I told her to put on socks and sneakers. So began another slow walk to her bedroom, followed by a slammed door. Oh boy. I told her to open the door and, when she didn't, repeated my request and then opened it myself to find her struggling to put on long socks she has trouble putting on when she doesn't have a broken arm. As I look down in disgust I hear the dogs barking in excitement for their walk as I realize that time is ticking. Long story short, we had another delay as I finished dressing her. And then another when I told her, a bit loudly and more excitedly now as time was ticking, she had to wear her rain jacket as her sweat jacket wouldn't go over her temporary cast easily. She then made the move she had made whenever I yelled at her -- putting her fingers in her hears. At this point I wasn't aware I had been yelling, but I've noticed my voice still gets louder when I'm upset, even if there is no emotion behind it. So, of course, when we finally started walking down our driveway I saw the bus on the corner. I told our daughter she would have to run for the bus. No response. I finally yelled RUN! She got the message and, like many children across America cutting it close, ran for the school bus, which she made. Mission accomplished, got her off to school without a major blowup, all is well -- or so I thought.
Later that evening, while my wife was out, our daughter wrote us a note that we were not to read until bedtime. Most of it revolved around our son's upcoming birthday, but the first three sentences were directed to us. The second sentence was a request to stop asking her how her arm was since, as she pointed out in the third sentence, it felt fine. The first sentence was directly at me -- it told me to stop yelling. That crushed me. I thought I had gotten much better at that but not in the eyes of one of the more important judges -- our daughter. My wife pointed out that it was good our daughter felt secure enough to point out this fault to me but it still reenforced my feeling that our daughter views me as someone I'm not, or at least don't want to be.
My father has been gone for almost a quarter of century. As the years march on, memories fade, so that only the more distinctive ones remain. I recall my father being pleasantly surprised when I agreed to join his office summer bowling league when I was 18. He was surprised I wanted to bowl with him, which I did. Though I am still surprised he didn't realize that an 18 year old from Queens would also look for any excuse to not spend a day working in the local supermarket so he could wander around Manhattan, especially as my father worked on the border of Greenwich Village (the location of his office, which has been replaced with luxury housing, was grimy but coming back by the late 80s -- it is now a very hip, but expensive, area of Manhattan -- the bowling alley, a dump back then, is now a major bowling party place). I also remember my father driving us to Florida and Walt Disney World every summer to visit family in the Miami area and have some fun in Orlando, at least until the gas crisis of the late 1970s. I recall my father crying his eyes out on the couch the night my brother died in a car accident. But what I really recall about my father was his temper and how he yelled at us. That is the one, overriding theme of my childhood. Angry dad. Raging dad. Walk on eggshells dad.
Is that how my daughter is going to remember me despite my best efforts, as an angry yeller? Do I still have anger issues to work on (at least the therapist and I will have something to talk about next week)? Or is she being over sensitive to normal parent discipline which includes, on occasion when you want to make sure you are heard, raising your voice? Or is it just my 7 year old being a 7 year old who knows how to push buttons? She knows how to get her brother riled up and now, that the anger seems to be gone and the eggshell walking slowly being forgotten, I wonder if she is amusing herself by pushing my buttons having forgotten what the consequences could be (never hitting, just yelling)? I guess if it is the later, I should be relieved but I wonder how long it will be until I stop second guessing myself.
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