[14] Right on, weeping. After any tantrum or me shouting “don’t do that” for the 100th time, there’s always lots of hugs and “i love you”.

In this case, it’s pretty dangerous for a four year old to not be sitting down while on a train. Typically with parents the degree of their unreasonableness is proportionate to their amount of fear. A four year old child standing up on a train is going to trigger a decent amount of fear in any parent.

As for arguing over sweaters/shorts and cold weather, I think that’s a case of letting them freeze. Being cold doesn’t make a person all that more susceptible to getting ill. If they want to freeze, let them freeze. Chances are you’ll be having more important arguments about clothing anyway — especially if you’re lucky (or unlucky) enough to have girls.

The woman on the train stripped her son of all power, shamed him for daring to try to exert any power, snubbed him when he tried to pull back, and then ridiculed him when he, quite naturally, cried. What the fuck kind of lesson did she teach him there? Poor kid – I hope she is not always like that, or that he’s got others to lean on.

Children do respond to discipline and structure but also to tenderness and effusive love. At least, mine do.

Cuban Missile Crisis, my god. It’s amazing how the most casual remark/instruction (“Oh, grab your sweater, it’s cold outside!”) can turn into exactly that. Just grab your fucking sweater, you little bastard!

The constant need for us as parents to anticipate conflict about such minor things so as to be one step ahead, ready to de-escalate while keeping the circus running smoothly…god, it’s taxing.

The hardest thing (for me) is realizing I’ve committed my prestige to a cause that just isn’t worth it, having to follow through on some ultimatum I really oughtn’t have issued, etc.

Can you imagine being the President? Having to be a step ahead (and preferably, a hundred steps ahead) of any potential situation so that it doesn’t become a situation?

Having to relentless discipline your own emotions and (well-deserved) frustrations in order to prevent WWIII?

Of course, presidents do have the benefit of a very large and well-trained staff to help save them from themselves.

If only parents had anything approaching those kinds of resources…

Kids need to exert themselves, to be who they are, and to draw their own map. Parents need to make sure that in doing so, their kids don’t physically or emotionally hurt themselves or others, and don’t unduly mess up their lives, and figure out when to encourage, when to nudge, and when to draw lines. It is a power play, no matter what anyone says. If you’re lucky, you can remember that it is way more than that and navigate accordingly. That said, I can’t tell you the number of times a discussion about whether it’s shorts-weather or not has quickly escalated into the Cuban Missle Crisis. This is not hyperbole — me and my son are ready to go to the mat on whether it is too cold for shorts. Luckily, I’ve been able to catch myself before it gets too crazy thus far, and luckily my kids, if you can step outside the escalating cycle, can be pretty reasonable. But it ain’t easy, and it ain’t pretty.

To be clear though, this woman is twisted, not only in how she jerked her son’s emotional chain, but then withheld consolation when he sought it, and berated him for crying.

I’m sure I offer variations on that to my kids (“Why would you do something like that,” maybe) but “What the hell is wrong with you?” Somehow, to me, that seems to cross the line into verbal abuse.

*sigh*

As you say, Alex, the world is not a happy place.

She may well be a sadist, Alex but I’d be lying if I said that sadism wasn’t a constant risk of parenthood, for me, anyway. Not sadism, exactly, but…it’s so hard to explain…

The need to control my kids, to discipline them, establishes this continual dynamic of nuclear brinksmanship. Sometimes I find myself issuing perfectly reasonable ultimatums, other times, maybe a little disproportionate and peevish. But the point is, there is certainly a rush, both of relief and of raw power, that comes when the fucking kid *finally*, for the love of god, capitulates to parental authority.

Why am I saying this…

I think it’s to do with the tears. Whenever I drive my kids to tears, there is always that satisfaction, no, the hope, that maybe, finally, this will be the last time such conflicts become death-matches. Of course, it never is and never will be and God help me when they’re teenagers.

I guess my basic point is, I catch myself having little frissons of satisfaction that might be mistaken for sadism in moments like that.

Bloody hell, parenting is agony. Except when it’s pure, unmitigated joy and love, which is often enough to keep the kids alive.

That said, yes, of course there are people who are just plain abusive, sadistic, whatever, but it’s easy for the lines to start to blur on occasion, especially if a parent is overworked and unsupported.

I sure hope that boy’s inner strength matches his physical strength. He’s gonna need it.

You need to pass a test to drive a car. You need to sign a license to get married. You need only know how to fornicate to be a parent.

When people get in a snit about gays being parents, I point them to stories like this, and note that unlike heteros, gays have to WANT to raise kids . . . there are no “accidents”. And given the vitriol that the right wing has over gays and kids, you’d think they would have found instances of gay parents abusing their kids . . . and I haven’t read any, have you?

(I’m sorry … I’m digressing, and veering into political talk)

I generally try to write and blog about warmth and connection, about tenderness and love. But that doesn’t mean I think the world is a happy place.

yesterday i was walking west on 22nd to go get the f and this pudgy blond kid who was probably 9 and his mom were arguing in the street because he was trying out for something and he thought his mom gave him bad instructions on what to do. it oscillated between exasperation, disgust, anger, reconciliation, embarrassment (on the kid’s part since he knew i overheard the entire exchange).
it was sad because it seemed this was pretty typical for them – hopefully not though.