Raising the Spawn of Satan, Again
I love watching family movies; you know, the ones where they live in a big beautiful home somewhere in Pleasantville with three wonderful children and golden lab running around, being the perfect pet. Ahhh. Okay, I lied just there. I hate those movies. Any problem, no matter how big or small, always gets fixed in the end and then everyone gets a great big hug! The end.
Why is it that in my life, any problem, big or small, takes mountains and thunderstorms and bolts of lightning to fix? Oh, and then it comes right on back whenever it feels like it. I wish that there were as many “parenting help” groups and self-help “programs” for those of us who are raising hell’s children.
My husband and I could probably recite every “helpful” phrase or best intentions by friends, teachers, counselors, etc. by heart. What do you do when you’ve already tried everything? And yes, I mean everything shy of locking them up in a basement somewhere (which has crossed our minds, mind you).
Why is it when you have tried, and tried, and tried, and your teens still refuse to see the light, that somehow it’s now your fault? Somehow along the way, my husband and I must have fallen off the “Good Parent” train and become the enemy.
Nobody wants to help you when you have teen problems. Unless of course you are Donald Trump and can afford the average $65 dollars PER DAY fees that most centers charge. Who on earth can really afford that? Really?
In the movies, usually you have the one bad child who, upon meeting a profound character, usually ends up realizing his mistakes, and stops being a bad guy and repents. All the family sighs a big relief and we all cheer and cry and say how wonderful. What happens when you have one bad egg who almost destroys your family, then just as you think you can breathe again, your younger offspring says, hey where did all the action go, and BAM! You’re back to square one.
Why is there no help for families like mine? Oh, I know everyone wants to help. The teachers say we should be more constructive. The counselors say we should focus on the bright side. The police say we should just bury there bodies in the backyard. (Okay, not really, but sounds good.) Be stricter we hear, and then when they act out, were too strict. Take away their toys. Then when they act out it’s because we’ve stifled them. Give them a reward system. But they seem to think that for taking out the trash we now owe them an X-Box 360. Give them an allowance and make them pay for stuff. Apparently, ten dollars is not enough encouragement to clean their rooms. “They’ll just get dirty again anyway mom.”
Children should grow to age of, oh lets say about six or seven, they’re still pretty good kids at that age, and then they should turn eighteen and then whenever they do something stupid, it’s not our fault.
Sounds great to me …