When I Hate Myself as a Parent

It was a Tuesday. After a long weekend. It had already been made clear both of my boys didn’t want to go to school OR daycare. I just want to stay home they said.

Great way to start the day.

But not unexpected.

We ate breakfast. There was a table-climbing incident with my youngest followed by a fall and a leg bonk and a lot of crying. Then my oldest copied and promptly got mad when we both told him to stop.

It was already a morning.

Then it came to getting dressed.

I brought clothes down to the couch. The boys were already wild. They were playing a sort of jumping hide and seek on the couch. It was fun to hear, there was a lot of laughing, but it wasn’t the ideal moment given we were trying to get everyone ready for school and out of the house.

Neither wanted to get dressed. They both resisted, tried to run, struggled, wriggled, and laughed all the way.

TV, their kryptonite, had already been revoked for the day from the night before. It didn’t seem to be having the effect we wanted and they continued to laugh and wind each other up. When they get like this, it’s like they’re not in their bodies. They only look at each other and keep laughing regardless of our words, threats, stern voices, volume, or seriousness. My oldest’s pupils dilate and he looks like a rabid animal.

So I grab him and put him on my lap to start getting him dressed. He struggles. I restrain him. He continues to struggle. I continue to restrain. He laughs and laughs, and keeps at it despite any talking from me.

On top of that he still has trouble saying or admitting he has to use the bathroom. Either #1 or #2. It’s a problem. It’s been an ongoing problem. Especially when he won’t go at school. He often acts this silly, wild way when he has to poo, so we prompted him, “Do you have to go?”.

No.

Of course it’s No.

It’s always No. How can we ever get a straight answer when it’s always a No? We stress to no end about him going to school and having to use the bathroom. Pee or poo, it’s our constant nightmare.

So we say, “Let’s go do a try”.

To which he resists, says “No” again, struggles, tries to run away etc etc.

Finally I squeeze him, hard, with my arm around his torso. I get serious, use a low angry voice. Stop it. Now.

I give him a 10 second warning, tell him if he doesn’t walk upstairs to do a try, I’ll “help” him. He obviously makes no move to do anything, so I pick him up. He resists etc etc.

We go upstairs. He cries. He does his victim routine saying “Everyone is mean to me and tries to tell me what to do.” A 5-year old. Go figure.

I say, you’re acting like one of the bad kids in your class. It’s something that sort of lands as the memory of these 3 little terrors from the previous year who ruled the classroom it often an example of how to make bad choices.

He finally gets on the toilet. He doesn’t ahve to go. I figured he didn’t but getting on the toilet was the point. He stays for a good 2-3 minutes. Nothing happens. And that’s fine. He calms down. I explain that we have to change. We have to make this easier.

And I apologize. I’m sorry for squeezing you. It’s hard for Daddy when you act like this and have no control. You can’t calm down. You don’t know how to stop. You don’t listen. It’s too much.

In writing this all down, it sounds less terrible than it felt in the moment. I hate getting this way with my kids. I hate being hard, being loud, having to lay down the law.

But then I think, he needed it in that moment. He calmed down almost immeditaely when I carried him upstairs. He needed to be forcefully removed from the situation that was activating him. Sometimes he doesn’t know what to do to stop. He can’t get out of it.

But either way, I had to restrain him. I chose to restrain him. Whether he needed it or not, I didn’t like it.

I love my kids more than anything. I only ever want to be gentle and loving. And I’d say (I hope) I’m that way 99% of the time. But it’s true also that kids need boundaries and firm rules sometimes. It’s a part of the gentle parenting approach that often, at least in our case, gets lost. Being tough when you have to be. Saying enough is enough. And actually making it stick. Kids that get a lot of freedom won’t always (or ever) moderate themselves or follow directions without being made to. And that’s where it can get tough.

But here we are, after the day is done, school is over, work is nearly finished, and we’re playing together as usual. Having a great time, if not starting to whine and get tired and begin the descent into a fresh round of nighttime behaviour.