Getting the kids to get their homework done has never been an issue before; Alex studies for fun, Rachel does her work as soon as she gets home just to get it out of the way, and Kevin never really had much to do before now. When he did have homework, he mimicked Alex and sat down at the table with his older brother and just did it.
Then his hormones began to kick in, his attitude skewed a bit, and homework has become a battleground. When asked if he has any, he grunts no, and is then scrambling to get it done at the last minute. On Wednesday afternoon, knowing that he’d be better off getting it out of the way before a weekend that was already scheduled with family outings, Char asked him how much—not if he had any—homework he needed to get done.
I have to read about 10 pages in this book we’re reading for English class.
All right; he’s not the reader Alex is, but he does read for half an hour or so every night, so she didn’t push. She did, however, ask him every night if he’d read what he was supposed to.
A few pages, his pat answer.
Get it done tonight was her reply.
He’s rushing head-first into puberty, we get that. We survived it with Alex, complete with attitude and door-slamming; we survived it with Rachel and her penchant for new-teen-drama-queen antics. Kevin has always been fairly laid back, easy going, so we naïvely assumed he might be just a little easier to deal with.
I don’t think either of us expected he would take the worst of his siblings’ traits and create a whole new pre-teen model. He has all of Alex’s attitude and then some, the snarky sarcasm that just misses the mark, he stomps through the house, and he can out-drama the queen without much effort. He’s still the same sweet kid, but when he’s on a roll…if it was someone else’s kid, I would be amused. Since it’s ours, I’m ticking away the months until the worst of it is over, and hoping that he eases out of it at about the same ages Alex and Rachel did (don’t get me wrong, they’re still rolling in teen crap, but they’ve got a handle on it and know when they’ve stepped over the line.)
Thanksgiving weekend was All Kevin Attitude, All The Time. He snarked at all the wrong times, backtalked, rolled his eyes a few times too many, stomped a few times too loudly, and by yesterday afternoon we’d had enough.
And then after dinner Alex brought up homework, knowing Kevin hadn’t done it; he was being a shit, too, but at least it was with a purpose, to make sure his little brother got the work done before it was too late.
Char was furious. She pointed Kevin towards the sofa, turned off the TV, and made him read the chapter he should have had done on Wednesday night. When he closed the book and then said he needed his notebook to finish—I might have forgotten that I need to write a report—she gritted her teeth and managed to avoid yelling at him. But when he pulled out the notebook, along with math homework he “forgot” about, history worksheets that “will only take a minute,” and a take-home quiz for his science class, her restraint lapsed and she let him have it (verbally.)
He simply sat there and let her get it out, and then made his biggest mistake. He rolled his eyes, sighed hard, and told her to stop being so dramatic. It was “meaningless” homework and didn’t matter.
She was mad enough that she turned around and left the room; he shrugged it off until his cell phone chirped with a text message, and I grabbed the phone from his hand.
You just lost this for a week.
Instant indignation. That wasn’t fair, he was getting the work done and it would be done before bedtime, so what’s the big deal?
You never, not ever, speak to your mother that way.
She started it. He seriously went to that. She started it.
One more word and you’re also grounded for the week.
His mouth opened—he had more than one more word to say—but he doesn’t dare risk it this week. If he misses dance classes this week and next week, he doesn’t get to participate in the holiday recital, and he’s worked his ass off for that.
Very quietly, he grabbed his books and headed for my office, where he could work without a parent breathing down his neck. And somewhere in that pre-teen clouded brain is a working brain cell, because I heard him pause in the hallway at our bedroom door.
I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to be mean.
Yes, we’ve gotten through it twice already and peripherally with a third (though Erin was over the attitude part by the time she moved in; she was still all teen), and his bright spots are far more frequent than his dark wannabe-teen moments, but I am not looking forward to the next couple of years, and I am bracing myself against everything that’s coming at us.
First world problem, I know.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
I'm so not ready for this
I think we've hit the parts of parenting that neither of us was prepared for; we had the kids with the intent to raise them into self reliant adults, and hoped that along the way we could instill values in them that would become part of who they are, and for the most part I think we've accomplished that. Make no mistake, we have three teenagers in the house (yes, I know, Kevin is not yet 13 but he might as well be; he has the eye rolling part down pat) and there are days we go to bed as exhausted as we did when they were toddlers. For the most part, they amuse us, even at their teen-worst (I suppose that's because their worst isn't all that bad, not compared to a lot of kids we know) but there are days...
They're reaching towards problems that are pushing into adult territory, and we don't always know what to do about it. Alex, especially. He's 16 going on 30, he's in a relationship that's grown closer than I would like (read into that what you will, and you'll probably be right) and he's as serious and committed to it as he can possibly be at this age; he's also trying to figure out a way to break his own heart without breaking his girlfriend's.
He doesn't want to break up with her, but it occurred to him recently that he may effectively be doing that at the end of next summer. The realization hit him as he was pouring over information on a few potential colleges he's considering for when he's done at the community college. He's wrestling with what to do, stay here and go to school locally, which might not be in his best long term interest, or go away to school and risk distance being something that comes between them.
His realization has lead to many evenings spent sitting by the pool, in the cold, while he contemplates what he's going to do. It's almost as hard on us because we can't really tell him what to do; we can point out some obvious things, like email and texting and cell phones, and the fact that going away to school doesn't mean staying away for good. There are holidays and weekends, and unless he winds up overseas somehow he can always come home when he feels the need. We can also bite our tongues and avoid telling him that some distance might do them both some good; they're too young to be living life as if they're going to be together forever, and it might give them both some perspective.
I also can't tell him that most of me wants him to stay home and go to school here. I'm not ready to send my son out into the world and I don't imagine that I will be in 9 months. He won't be quite 17 when the next school year begins. When he was born my idea of being his mother had him here with us until he was 22 and graduating from college.
He relies more on his father when it comes to talking this out, which is good because I'm not sure I can avoid telling him how badly I want him to stay home. Ian is capable of helping him weight the pros and cons and making sure that the primary consideration is Alex's entire future, not his mother's feelings, and not his girlfriend's.
But still, he knows that if he chooses to leave, even if he can find a way to do it and not hurt Stephanie, he'll be breaking his own heart by going. And the collateral from that just isn't something I was ever prepared to have to deal with.
My dad let me leave at 18; he sent me clear across the country, and I had no idea how hard that was for him, not until I started thinking about Alex leaving. My dad let me go because it really was the best for me. I know that if Alex chooses a school out of state that it will be because it's the best for him, but I don't have to like it. And I suppose he doesn't have to, either.
They're reaching towards problems that are pushing into adult territory, and we don't always know what to do about it. Alex, especially. He's 16 going on 30, he's in a relationship that's grown closer than I would like (read into that what you will, and you'll probably be right) and he's as serious and committed to it as he can possibly be at this age; he's also trying to figure out a way to break his own heart without breaking his girlfriend's.
He doesn't want to break up with her, but it occurred to him recently that he may effectively be doing that at the end of next summer. The realization hit him as he was pouring over information on a few potential colleges he's considering for when he's done at the community college. He's wrestling with what to do, stay here and go to school locally, which might not be in his best long term interest, or go away to school and risk distance being something that comes between them.
His realization has lead to many evenings spent sitting by the pool, in the cold, while he contemplates what he's going to do. It's almost as hard on us because we can't really tell him what to do; we can point out some obvious things, like email and texting and cell phones, and the fact that going away to school doesn't mean staying away for good. There are holidays and weekends, and unless he winds up overseas somehow he can always come home when he feels the need. We can also bite our tongues and avoid telling him that some distance might do them both some good; they're too young to be living life as if they're going to be together forever, and it might give them both some perspective.
I also can't tell him that most of me wants him to stay home and go to school here. I'm not ready to send my son out into the world and I don't imagine that I will be in 9 months. He won't be quite 17 when the next school year begins. When he was born my idea of being his mother had him here with us until he was 22 and graduating from college.
He relies more on his father when it comes to talking this out, which is good because I'm not sure I can avoid telling him how badly I want him to stay home. Ian is capable of helping him weight the pros and cons and making sure that the primary consideration is Alex's entire future, not his mother's feelings, and not his girlfriend's.
But still, he knows that if he chooses to leave, even if he can find a way to do it and not hurt Stephanie, he'll be breaking his own heart by going. And the collateral from that just isn't something I was ever prepared to have to deal with.
My dad let me leave at 18; he sent me clear across the country, and I had no idea how hard that was for him, not until I started thinking about Alex leaving. My dad let me go because it really was the best for me. I know that if Alex chooses a school out of state that it will be because it's the best for him, but I don't have to like it. And I suppose he doesn't have to, either.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
All our kids
The last two weeks have been hectic; we were simply waiting for Erin to have her baby, but then Miko came down with a gastric-intestinal bug, which spread through their house like biological wildfire. Both parents, all three kids, sick as can be, so we moved them into our house, sent the boys to stay with my dad because they showed no signs of it, and moved Rachel onto an air mattress in our room because she had a mild case. They were all so sick that it was scary, especially Erin. She wanted to have that baby so badly and in her head that was going to make everything better, but luckily she didn't go into labor while throwing up everything she'd eaten for the last week.
Ian and I were lucky; we still haven't gotten it. But he never complained once about all the work taking care of so many sick people at once entailed. He cleaned up barf without gagging, and he cleaned up a whole lot of kiddie poop and never flinched. He helped Miko bathe a few times, kept Travis and Thad as entertained as you can two little boys who feel so poorly, and he held Toni while she cried (because this kind of sick is embarrassing when you're a big fourth grader and trying to show your baby brothers how tough you are.) What touched me the most was seeing him curled up on the sofa with Erin (while Miko was splayed out on the kitchen floor, because it was cooler) on one side and Rachel on the other, holding both his girls close while they shared a hushed conversation about wanting that baby to come right now, and I listened as Erin admitted she hadn't thought about her own father in over a year but was suddenly wondering what had happened to him. Ian offered to find out, and Erin wants to know.
She doesn't think of her father as her dad, though. When she thinks of her dad, she thinks of Ian. And Rachel wanted to know when she was going to stop calling him Uncle Ian and start calling him Dad; Erin has never wanted Alex to feel displaced as the oldest, and certainly doesn't want Rachel to feel pushed aside as the only daughter.
I wanted to cry when Rachel told her she would never think that, because she's always thought of Erin as her big sister. And then she texted Alex and asked what he thought, and his response was "WTF? She's our sister so why hasn't she called him Dad all along?"
Ian told her she can call him whatever she's most comfortable with, but make no mistake, she's our daughter. Our kids think of her as their sibling; and yes, we had Alex and Rachel first, so she's not intruding on the order of things, if that's her biggest worry.
Erin is a sweet, sweet girl who still hasn't come to terms with why her own mother shoved her out the door (for that matter, neither have we) and she has no idea why her father left, but that's something I've always been able to empathize with. I still don't really know why my mother left, or where she is now. I understand that pain, though I think Erin's might be deeper since she did have 16 years with her mother. But I don't think she's ever felt as unconditionally loved as she does with Ian. He never had to be asked; the moment he found out his sister had thrown Erin out, he headed for Texas to get her. There was never a question about what he would do with her; she was coming to live with us, for as long as she needed and wanted to. His heart was there before the rest of him was, and I fell in love with her the minute she stepped through the front door.
She has been a joy to have, a very bright light in our lives and we've been lucky that she settled in easily and never really looked back.
Last night, just before dinner (which was the first solid food she had wanted to face for over a week) she looked up, eyes wide, and announced that "it's time." Poor Miko still feels horrible, but he'd stopped throwing up and was keeping Gatorade down, and I'm not sure how he felt about having to get dressed and leave the house, but when she said it was time we all took her seriously.
She was very calm all the way there, calm as Miko checked her in, and calm as she went into her room. Poor Ian was a nervous wreck, calling Miko's parents and my dad, so that he could take the boys back to the house and stay with Rachel. We waited at the hospital, because Ian insists that he be there when his grandkids are coming into the world, even if it is down the hall. And at 11:20, our newest granddaughter took her first breath, on 1-11-11.
Erin and Miko named her Charlene Alessandra Kosta, and I can't tell you how overwhelmed and thrilled it makes me to have her named after me. I was so touched about how focused she is on Ian being her dad that I never clued into the idea that we're a package deal. She says I've been her Mom for years, too, and if it had been another boy, he would have been Charlie.
I can't stop crying.
Ian is thrilled, too, and threatening to call her Chuck. I'm pretty sure he can get away with calling her anything he wants, but if Toni is any example, she'll be "little princess" most of the time.
Ian and I were lucky; we still haven't gotten it. But he never complained once about all the work taking care of so many sick people at once entailed. He cleaned up barf without gagging, and he cleaned up a whole lot of kiddie poop and never flinched. He helped Miko bathe a few times, kept Travis and Thad as entertained as you can two little boys who feel so poorly, and he held Toni while she cried (because this kind of sick is embarrassing when you're a big fourth grader and trying to show your baby brothers how tough you are.) What touched me the most was seeing him curled up on the sofa with Erin (while Miko was splayed out on the kitchen floor, because it was cooler) on one side and Rachel on the other, holding both his girls close while they shared a hushed conversation about wanting that baby to come right now, and I listened as Erin admitted she hadn't thought about her own father in over a year but was suddenly wondering what had happened to him. Ian offered to find out, and Erin wants to know.
She doesn't think of her father as her dad, though. When she thinks of her dad, she thinks of Ian. And Rachel wanted to know when she was going to stop calling him Uncle Ian and start calling him Dad; Erin has never wanted Alex to feel displaced as the oldest, and certainly doesn't want Rachel to feel pushed aside as the only daughter.
I wanted to cry when Rachel told her she would never think that, because she's always thought of Erin as her big sister. And then she texted Alex and asked what he thought, and his response was "WTF? She's our sister so why hasn't she called him Dad all along?"
Ian told her she can call him whatever she's most comfortable with, but make no mistake, she's our daughter. Our kids think of her as their sibling; and yes, we had Alex and Rachel first, so she's not intruding on the order of things, if that's her biggest worry.
Erin is a sweet, sweet girl who still hasn't come to terms with why her own mother shoved her out the door (for that matter, neither have we) and she has no idea why her father left, but that's something I've always been able to empathize with. I still don't really know why my mother left, or where she is now. I understand that pain, though I think Erin's might be deeper since she did have 16 years with her mother. But I don't think she's ever felt as unconditionally loved as she does with Ian. He never had to be asked; the moment he found out his sister had thrown Erin out, he headed for Texas to get her. There was never a question about what he would do with her; she was coming to live with us, for as long as she needed and wanted to. His heart was there before the rest of him was, and I fell in love with her the minute she stepped through the front door.
She has been a joy to have, a very bright light in our lives and we've been lucky that she settled in easily and never really looked back.
Last night, just before dinner (which was the first solid food she had wanted to face for over a week) she looked up, eyes wide, and announced that "it's time." Poor Miko still feels horrible, but he'd stopped throwing up and was keeping Gatorade down, and I'm not sure how he felt about having to get dressed and leave the house, but when she said it was time we all took her seriously.
She was very calm all the way there, calm as Miko checked her in, and calm as she went into her room. Poor Ian was a nervous wreck, calling Miko's parents and my dad, so that he could take the boys back to the house and stay with Rachel. We waited at the hospital, because Ian insists that he be there when his grandkids are coming into the world, even if it is down the hall. And at 11:20, our newest granddaughter took her first breath, on 1-11-11.
Erin and Miko named her Charlene Alessandra Kosta, and I can't tell you how overwhelmed and thrilled it makes me to have her named after me. I was so touched about how focused she is on Ian being her dad that I never clued into the idea that we're a package deal. She says I've been her Mom for years, too, and if it had been another boy, he would have been Charlie.
I can't stop crying.
Ian is thrilled, too, and threatening to call her Chuck. I'm pretty sure he can get away with calling her anything he wants, but if Toni is any example, she'll be "little princess" most of the time.
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