Today was a really really really bad day. It’s already seven PM and I have barely left my bedroom after having a fight with R this morning in which I–I!–used the f-word and told him he was a loser. Woo-hoo, that’s some really good parenting there.
I am angry at myself and discouraged and still angry at him, too. I even got annoyed at the dog when she was trying to be comforting: I wasn’t ready to be comforted, I was angry. I did apologize to him–that only took me a couple of minutes–and even tried to have some sort of reasonable follow-up–which took an hour or so longer–but he wasn’t ready for it. So I’m giving him space now and taking plenty of my own. But wow, what a…what an unexpected flare of truly deep anger. And the cause? Spanish homework. Well, that and his desire to quit the moment something gets tough. And the fact that he’s willing to let a bad grade ruin his ability to enjoy something. I feel like I’ve wasted $40,000 and a tremendous to try to give him a different kind of education, and in the end, it’s all wasted. It all just boils down to the number someone else gives you being the most important thing.