It will cause one to think that perhaps the poor child who will not let up about wanting to clean out the van and listen to some music while doing so should maybe be allowed to do so in order to vent some of that energy that never seems to be appeased. Also playing in the back of this consenting
adult's mind rattles the
treacherous thought that maybe, just maybe, there will be a moment's peace from his following me everywhere constantly talking about his ideas ~smiling wearily~ and drama making ~not smiling at all here. These moments of insanity on my part blow up in my face 8 out of 10 times, and while you would think that I would learn by now, I can only say it must be sheer desperation to breathe a little that causes me to cave.
Indeed, I did cave today in regards to the van request. School had been 10 minutes on and off all morning ending with him melting down because I asked him to re-work his math problems with me. We threw in the towel because it was overwhelming him. He voluntarily came back to it ten minutes later. I thought, as I always do, that it helps him to have some extra leash. We finally finished school quite successfully and I hugged him, noticing how worn he looked. Against my better judgment I consented to letting him clean out the van and listen to music. He can seem so trustworthy sometimes.
I am constantly second guessing myself in regards to situations with him. I am an average parent with a child who does not respond to average parenting ~sheepish smile~.
His mind can conjure twenty different ideas of what would be a fun "project" within an hours time. These ideas ALWAYS contain elements of danger, inconvenience, and/or inordinate levels of
catastrophe potential.
Sam is...well, he's Sam. He is a larger than life character! Part adorable, part creative, so funny, tender-hearted (this is his saving grace:o) and also part willful and obsessive. Everyone we know, and I mean EVERYONE we know, has what they call "Sam stories". We have encyclopedias of Sam stories. Amazingly most everyone just loves him, although most can only handle measured doses and they are quite ready to get away when it is time ~smiling~
It's that will which scares me so. I am in constant reassessment of tactics in this area. I hate to admit to that because it sounds so negative and defeatist. But it is honest. I am only human and only so much can be absorbed by one human being, no matter how invested in this child they are.
It has taken every effort of will,
and prayer begging for grace and patience, and every ounce of love I have for this kid to keep my control on several
occasions this week. And to my shame I didn't keep control over the matches and paint thinner incident. Instead I clamped my hands down on his shoulders and I didn't unclamp them until I firmly sat him on his bed and told him in no uncertain terms that he was grounded until judgment day! He found this humorous and quickly got over the hurt and shock of being manfully led to his bedroom. All I could see in my mind's eye was he all aflame and horribly injured, if not killed.
On many levels we have to have different boundaries for him than we are trying to maintain for our younger three children but this can lead to misunderstandings. When the oldest is the challenge it can have a trickle down effect. Thank goodness, the younger ones are very tranquil and usually obedient and kind. God is good.
So, this is how the van debacle turned out... he happily skipped outside with van keys in hand and unlocked the doors. I helped him turn the ignition on and find some music. He happily went about wiping down the dash, emptying the trash can, etc. I went inside to switch out the laundry and put the twins down to rest. He, of course, ended up going through the glove compartment, the back storage area and going through everything without putting it away. He
unhappily put it all back for me with constant supervision on my part. He also took the liberties of finding different music on the radio while I had been away and now has an oh so lovely little phrase he's singing. From whom? "Mom, who's Alice Cooper? He seems bad!" This said with a half admiring/half shocked gleam in his eye.
All the while I did not notice in the bright sunlight that my headlights had been turned on and left on after I removed the keys from the ignition. It was discovered as we tried to leave to go buy milk. We couldn't leave because you cannot drive with a dead battery. I fix a dead serious eye upon him and he acts so surprised that the headlights were left on. How on earth might that have happened his face seems to say. He's not good at mock innocence.
I go back inside and help the twins to find an activity and sit down to rest my head and take an aspirin. I made a call to my dearest and asked if he will be able to come home and give me a jump. Being ornery (and tacky), he teasingly asks if I'm saying what he hopes I'm saying. My sense of humor isn't so great at this point so I just reply "very funny". He actually does find it funny. After 20-25 minutes I jumped up thinking that Sam had not been in and out informing me what he was up to during that time. Not a good thing. Ever.
I look around outside. He's not there. I look in the garage. He's not there. I notice his bicycle is gone and so I go to glance down the street to spot him. He's not there. About that time...
simultaneously... here comes Sam around the corner with a grocery sack on his handlebars and here comes an electrical truck pulling into my driveway with three workmen inside.
The workmen exit their truck and very kindly and politely say... "good afternoon maam. We hear you need your battery charged. Your little boy came to ask us to help. We'd be glad to help."
They're smiling even though they were pulled from their work. I am mortified. They are finding it humorous too. I thanked them profusely and told them my husband was on his way to the rescue. I swear, I have Huck Finn with a will and impulse factor the size of the Atlantic for a son!
That was when I remembered the grocery sack hanging from his handlebars. I asked him, half knowing and half dreading the answer, what was in the sack. He grins and proudly announces that he used his own money and rode (ALL THE WAY) to the neighborhood store, which is about 4 streets over and three blocks north of where we live, to buy milk for me. Norman Rockwell could not have painted a more poignantly funny face. He looks so very proud of himself for how he tried to help that I just didn't have the heart to take his bike away (again) over this new infraction of the bicycle rules. But we had a long talk about the safety issues of riding too far away. Again.
I'm going to have some 'espraining' to do when hubby gets home and hears that I did not enforce the removal of the bike rule.
I won't go into the weed-eater incident, the Christmas lights incident, nor the motorized wheelchair incident at the market. All this week. My sense of humor is seriously compromised.
All this with a feingold diet, little or no tv, and some serious prayer miles logged in on his behalf.
These are some of the comments I've received in recent days concerning Mr. Sam, I am ...
"Good thing you have a good sense of humor!"
"You're so calm"
"Does he always move so quickly?"
"I heard that too much tv can make children hyper. You might want to consider that."
"Thank God! Sam got you for a mom!"
Thank you for this one, Kelli (((hug)))
Mother of Perpetual Help, pray for us.
St. Joseph, patron of Samuel, pray for us.
Dear, Dear Guardian Angel, thank you from the bottom of my heart, but could you guide him out of trouble a little better? Not criticizing, only pleading.
God Love You and Keep You.
