Tuesday, August 25, 2015

And this is a Tuesday evening

This has been an interesting evening with the two juniors. First, the elder asked me if he was gay.

Me: Do you like girls?
D: Yeah.
Me: Do you want to kiss girls?
D: YEAH! (Too much enthusiasm there, GNP, take it down a notch for America.)
Me: Do you want to kiss guys?
D: No.
Me: You're not gay.

Then I had to define some terms that he wanted to confirm the definitions of. The words were the F word, and Douche (bag). So I gave him a brief grammatical dissertation on the word "Fuck" and that it can be used as many parts of speech (his eyes started to glaze over when I was describing how it can be used as a transitive verb AND an intransitive verb). I also told him the meaning of it. Didn't go into as much detail with the Massengil object; I told him that it was used to clean and now it's used to describe someone who is a slimy jerk. He seemed satisfied. I managed to not shake my head off.

After that, the younger was getting ready for his bath and decided to "shuck my clothes off in the hall!" D asked him, "Shucked?" A explained: "Yeah. Shucking my cloths. You shuck corn because you have to take all the stuff off, so I shucked my clothes off."

Um, you're six. You are not supposed to be able to form conclusions like that. And stop getting nekkid in the hallway, weirdo.

This is turning into one of those nights that I wish I drank as much as I say I do.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

*sigh* Tuesday

I'm grieving again.

When your child is given a diagnosis other than "super duper regular kid" you grieve. You're thankful for answers or reasons or explanations, but still, you grieve.

You grieve for the child you might have had.
You grieve for the future that child might have had.
You grieve for the fact that living a "regular" life will not happen for you.
You read "Welcome to Holland" about a thousand of times and wish you decided to just stay home.

You grieve.

And then, you get on with it. You accept it and you move on. You read the books, find the doctors, do the therapies, try the medications; whatever needs to happen to move on, you do. But then something will happen to cause you to grieve another loss.

I don't know; I'm probably being over-dramatic here, but I'm sad. Disappointed. Angry. A little hungry. And sad. Still.

We returned D's violin today. He doesn't want to play anymore. And that's all fine and good--he played for a year and has decided he doesn't want to continue. Doesn't want to try anymore.

What the fuck, man?

I know I'm projecting but that's why I'm writing about it, and not talking about it with D because I don't want him to do something because I made him feel bad about giving up the something that I would have LOVED to have had the opportunity to do when I was his age. Not the violin, but I wanted to play Alto Sax or Drums so badly. But I wasn't able to. And this kid has the opportunity and he tosses it.

Am I spoiling him by giving him these opportunities? To do music, scouts, acting, gardening, all sorts of things--is making available opportunities the same as spoiling? I will admit that my kids are kind of spoiled. Typical "I grew up poor so I'm going to give you things I was never given" shtick. I realize it and I work hard to not do it. As much. Certainly not as much as I would like. I get spoiling with items, but can you spoil kids with opportunities?  I'd like to think not, but I very well could be wrong.

It makes me sad that my son gave up something I wish I could have done. I don't know what that makes me.