Thursday, March 05, 2009

Getting Real

I consider myself to be relatively unemotional when compared to most women I know. That's not to say that I don't feel emotion like other women, I just tend to not show it if I can help it. I've always attributed that to the fact that I grew up with a bunch of brothers and crying was a sign of weakness that I never wanted them to see. I think they all called me crybaby at least once a day, 7 days a week, for the first ten years of my life. Let's see . . . One time a day x five older brothers x seven days a week x 52 weeks in a year x 10 years = 18,200 times that I must have heard that insult. I'm fairly certain that a couple of those brothers probably called me that far more than once a day (never mind that those same brothers undoubtedly inflicted the pain that caused the tears to flow), so the 18,200 is a conservative estimate. Needless to say, there was nothing worse to me than being called a crybaby, so I learned from a very young age to repress the tears before they ever saw the light of day.

Fast forward from me as a ten year old little sister, to an almost 40 year old mom of a 7 year-old little boy. (Here comes the getting real part - as much as I would like to think my boys are all about cute pictures and sweet comments, there is a whole other side to all of us that generally goes unreported.) In spite of my reluctance to cry in most situations, Adam can open my floodgates at the drop of a hat. He has that power that nobody else seems to have - at least not until Noah gets to "that age". He makes me cry for good reasons (like when he gives me an unsolicited hug and tells me that he loves me) and for not-so-good reasons (like when he pulls out an insult when he's angry at me for one reason or another). More than once I've hidden in my room and cried so that he can't see how much he's hurt my feelings.

I think that I'm starting to toughen up a little bit though. Last night Adam whipped out two zingers, and I didn't shed one tear over either one. We were at the church for a scout dinner and Adam got mad at me and hurled this one: "I wish I could go live with Grandma instead of you!" Did I cry? Nope. In fact, I told him that, as luck would have it, we are going to Grandma's on Friday and I would ask her if he could move in if he wants me to. After briefly considering that, he angrily said "Not that Grandma . . . I want to live with Grandma Elaine . . . but I can't so I'll have to stay with you. . . but I don't want to." FYI: His grandma Elaine died before he was born. Way to wiggle out of that threat, Adam.

Then, after we got home, Adam got mad again and at one point said to me "I wish I wasn't even your son!" Nice. I think I've heard this one enough that I'm experiencing the crybaby effect. It's losing it's power over me and not one tear was shed. Ohhhhh the teen-age years. I'm a little nervous for all of us.

5 comments:

A THORN AMONG ROSES said...

Just call him a big cry baby over and over.

I can't believe you had brothers that were so mean to you.

Again, I offer to take either or both boys. Of course, if they make me cry I will ship them right back.

Kelly Hill said...

I can't believe he's an actual seven year old boy! That's CRAP!!

Every now and again HJ will scream, as he's slamming his door, "I hate you!!" I simply say,
"No you don't. You're really mad at me and that's okay, but you don't really hate me!!" And that's where we leave it. He's always really sad later and says he didn't mean it. I knew that.

These little ones can certainly pull at the heart strings.

Why ya goin' to mom's??

Kelly Hill said...

JUST NOW I experienced this one:

"I'm never talking to you again!!" whilst scream/crying.

I said, "Okay," then started typing.

Julie said...

We are actually going to Bill's, via mom's. For whatever reason (two boys in the backseat maybe) we can't make the trip to Pocatello in one session, so we use mom's as a resting place.

Nathan said...

It's good you got this recorded. You can milk it for sympathy points later when he grows up enough to feel guilty about it.