Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Buckle up, Breezy. It's going to be one Hell of a ride.

My sixteen year-old son, William, is convinced that I'm worthless.  Lately, I just take him with a grain of salt. 

Yesterday, I was sitting in Austynn's weekly Occupational Therapy office sitting with another friend along with countless other people, when he stated in his awkward, loud, Aspergian way that I would never be hired again, that I know absolutely nothing about computers, and that I was lucky to have a job before my husband and I adopted him.  Here you go son, here are my keys, go sit in in the car. 

"But it's cold outside, Mom."

"I'm sure with all your hot air, you'll have plenty enough warmth to keep you comfy in the car for the next fifteen minutes or so."

"Ooookaaay."  (Nice "boo boo" face.)

He played it up for at least five minutes getting to the car.  He acted the part of the silly kid; standing outside the window looking dejected and goofy - making my friend laugh until he was eventually out of eye sight.  He's a wonderful clown but at the same time, he's cruel and hurtful and knows my buttons.  He knew he had an audience and he knew one of them was my best friend. 

Later that evening, he had my husband.  We were on the way to our religious education class when he pulled another whopper.

"Mom said she had enough time this week to buy me the book I want."

Whoooaaaa, Nellie!!  We had discussed this several times, no - many times - earlier in the week and the same day that I would specifically take him on Friday when I went shopping.  I would not make a special trip to the book store for him.  Boy, he was telling a queen size fib and was setting me up in front of his Dad.  I lost it.   All Hell broke loose.  I let him have it.  I told him under no circumstances that I would take him to buy the book now.  He called me a liar.  I used a nasty four-letter word and told him to be quiet.  Poor Eric.  Poor Austynn.  I closed my mouth.  What else could be said?  William was on a roll.  Eric could say nothing to get our son to stop shouting.  What a lovely way to start our holiday party for our second graders. 

Why does William do this?  Why does he set me up?  He knew I had said, "no" until Friday.  He knew I would eventually take him shopping with me.  I wasn't going to change my mind.  Did he really think by calling me a liar that this was going to help?  Good grief.

When I was sixteen I remember having a lot of angst towards my mom.  It had the typical teenage, hormonal rage. She didn't understand me, I didn't understand her.  The lines of communication weren't open.  My mom wasn't available to me.  We didn't have home therapists, the open door policy, or Love and Logic techniques based on years of parental training courses for children who came from abused or neglected backgrounds.

I learned about sex from other pre-teen girls and from the almost successful rape of my first high school boyfriend. The first 4-letter word I uttered in front of my parents was "crap" and that was when I was 16.  My father looked so shocked that I didn't attempt it again until I was well into my thirties.  I hardly ever talked back to my parents.  I didn't want to make them unhappy.  When I did, it was usually with my mom, they were ugly fights, and I normally felt miserable afterwards.  I never cursed at her (or at least audibly) and I didn't pin my mom against my dad.  I knew my parents were a united front.  That what one said, the other backed-up.  Eric and I have always been this way with our boys.  William has been with us for over ten years now.  I can't believe he tried to convince Eric that I lied last night.

The teen years.  I'm right smack dab in the middle of them and not only am I in them but I'm in them with two, autistic spectrum boys who have come from backgrounds riddled with horrific physical, sexual, and emotional abuse and neglect.  Buckle up, Breezy.  It's going to be one Hell of a ride.      

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