วันเสาร์ที่ 9 กุมภาพันธ์ พ.ศ. 2556

I really didn't like my son

Bale Helen often could not stand his 10-year-old son, George, but did not know why. She candidly describes how he felt - and how she saved her relationship

"Get in the house!" I mean, in a growl, I hope the neighbors can not hear.

"No," said Jorge.

"Listen, kid" - frayed tempers - "I know I promised a trip to the ice cream place, but the aunt is dead there are two days and we're too boring, too busy. Let go again. "

In the game of emotional manipulation, I played my trump. Now, George plays his. "I give a shit that the aunt is dead"

I look at my oldest daughter, who responds to the challenge of apoplexy blank look and the idea hit me like a pot on the head: you do not like .

How did it get there?

George is 10 years old and reminds me of Two-Face in Batman. It has a capacity for tenderness, is somehow sweet and generous heart. However, his innate goodness - the soft side, beautiful - these days is often hidden under a flint outside arrogant. His teacher loved his intelligence and ingenuity, but admits that his assistant is arrogant and rude.

agree. I feel a desperate speculation wrong, even though I know that if you ask, he will be angry and say that the assistant always unfairly accused when the fault lies with the girls. And right now, I like the wizard, not understand it, by his ignorance machismo (when I was a reluctant reader, consolidated the problem by forcing through Eve, the ball Enchanted Fairy). But mostly I hate it because his attitude towards my dear son is unpleasant to think about mine.

Very often latent rage boils George and the smallest imperfection cause a rash - Last night, a satsuma too squashy. It is very competitive and often cruel indifference to his younger brother - pushed down the stairs, so that the poor girl shivers every time he passes his executioner. Reached the extremes of emotion in a few seconds, screaming, throwing books or balls of the room. It is frightening because it is easily as strong as me.

recently called his father to a son of a bitch who forbids him to watch South Park. If I talked to my parents like that, I said to George, was beaten by the chamber. "And they were right?" my son asked coldly.

am not so zen always remain impassive when provoked. I do not want to be a father hit him, but I caught George scratch the arm to stop attacking his brother. I apologized to the warning of the weasel, "Listen to me, then I will not have to physically restrain."

My son is not stupid. Feel my way and aversion which poisons our relationship. I lurch between forgiveness and punishment unnecessary. If you ban your favorite sport as punishment, feed your anger. The criminal justice system is not a deterrent. But if we speak we hoarse just listening. Or may cry, feel sorry undergo a hug, then poison and violence when the trial.

After 10 years of instinctive hand cack, maternal self-analysis, it seems to have no idea what to do.

not help a certain level pathetic itching that was inevitable scolding loudly dysfunction across generations. I was a child obediently autocratic parents: I never, never responded. My own mother screamed and kicked. She was constantly safe and incandescent rage at the slightest offense. I do not fear my son secretly, by their ingratitude, because happy, but infuriating that is not afraid of your mother?

course, my son is concerned with the aunt, but I decided to take voluntary stupid and have a fight about it. Meanwhile, George derive grim satisfaction to see me lose. He is spoiled - not physically - but often gets his way. I do not know what I have to deal with: the insolence or your cause - why


Above all, I must say that I know. Stress and pain means that his father and I are voltage boiling. All my anger towards others has accumulated first in a bristling ball. Home alone I can release it. My 10 years saw me stamp and shout. It absorbed the anger and threw it on me.

However, I'm not like my mother, hug, comfort, praise my children, and do not care much when the fixture is defeated by a tennis ball. But his shadow remains and my knee-jerk reactions are sometimes one. He spoke of his voice: "Take your feet Move!" This hardness is me.

As I argue with my son in the street, I wonder if I have the mental strength to be a father. Perhaps because of my education, my confidence evaporated when the hospital staff let me take this baby home. I was happy to have a part-time nanny, relieved to give my son a professional. I was afraid of him, his need was so great that I was terrified to fail. I managed the practical things: their steamed organic carrots, dressed him, Elmer reading. But I am connected with caution.

Over time, you must stop excusing their failures and take

responsibility for their attitudes and actions. My conditional approval is, no doubt, but when it does extend the retention love? We spent some time with our son - a bit of quality, some purgatory. I often wish I worked in an office: in spite of homemade meals, Filming in various sports, reading together, familiarity breeds contempt

am critical, he corrected his table manners 10 times in one sitting. What discipline supposedly for their own good, but for mine. It is often a loser, occasional layers, which drives me crazy. I do not always accept the child that I have. What he says resonates. I'm so desperate to change the situation in the coming months, I force myself to be warm, tolerant, minimize guilt, smile - even if I wanted to scream my head, and when collected methodically stuffing box dinner chair.



I also see Gaynor Sbuttoni, a school psychologist who specializes in emotional issues. She says that as a parent, I must see what I'm second. I allow him to be angry, to find a solution, but to limit the behavior. Say: "You can not hurt anyone, can not hurt you and you can not break things, but you can overwrite and scream and get your anger and when you're finished we'll go ahead and do it. Correct. "
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