Parenting Gone Wrong

He's eighteen, so technically an adult. But, mentally, he's still a child, my man-child. Like most boys his age, he is obsessed with the x-box. Most days, I can ignore the screaming at the TV when the wi-fi drops, but today was too much. 

It's Friday, and school is out for the summer. My middle child is lying on the bed with me, and we are joking around. I'm singing about bananas and bacon. Yes, you read that right; I was singing about bananas and bacon. My middle child is Autistic, and even though he's sixteen, he's still a little boy inside. If you're wondering why those two things, well, it has to do with cannibalism. 

Evidently, the internet is shocking in this house. My singing was upsetting the man-child. He was part of a challenge, and this was the last day. The world was ending. My eldest son, who has known me all of his long eighteen years, shouted at me. He is lucky that he lived past that. I forgave him, we were foolish, and my singing is not the best. He apologised and asked if he could move his x-box downstairs. I told him, yeah. It's the summer holidays, and I'm in a good mood. 

Then he decided to try his luck. He demanded his brother, who was with me and having a good time, help him. No, was the answer. Then he tried to commandeer his little sister to do his dirty work. It was too much work for him to take his x-box downstairs at once. Once again, I told him no. If she dropped something, it would all be her fault. Nothing to do with him, and nuclear winter would ensue. 

The boy worships at the altar of that black and green idol. Then, when she didn't bring down his power cable, a mighty roar reverberated through the house.

"Where is it?" 

I had had enough. I jumped off the bed, managing to knock slats out in the process, which did not help with my temper at this stage. Mama at full rage is a sight to behold. Thankfully, the neighbours have not called the police. They may have been sitting out in their gardens eating popcorn and enjoying the show, though. 

Suddenly, I became my mother. All those years of saying, I won't ever say this, or I won't do that; down the drain. The beast had truly been unleashed. My son was about to be ripped apart, circa 80's parenting.

"How dare you!" I glared at him, sulking on the stairs. "Not only did you shout and your brother and sister because you're angry, but you raised your voice to me."

"I'm sorry, mom. The internet is shocking, and I'm angry. I'm in a challenge."

I quit listening at this stage. Blood was in the air, and I was ready to eviscerate my firstborn. "I don't care about your damn game. In fact, the Xbox is gone. It's not coming back today." Oh, he started to open his mouth to complain, but I cut him off. "I'm at the point, son, of dropping it out the upstairs window. It doesn't belong to you. Very little in this house belongs to you. Daddy and I paid for everything you have. If you don't like it, get a damn job and move out."

Yeah, I went there. 

He shut up; fast. Then he began to apologise, but I was having none of it. Oh, I accepted the apology, but it didn't make the fact that he not only raised his voice to me but spoke back. By 80's parenting standards, he would be picking himself up off the ground by now. But, I am evolved and try not to resort to violence. 

Right now, my house is tranquil. I have three children in three different rooms cleaning. They have each been warned not to speak to the others and not to ask for help. If their rooms are not clean when I check in an hour, the black trash bags will be coming out. 

Ask my eldest, who won't be seeing the Xbox for several days. I do not negotiate with terrorists. My word is law in this house. I am their mother, and I will be respected. I don't even like to yell. I don't do it often. Unfortunately, when I do, I also become possessed by a Scottish sailor, and my language becomes foul. So now, I have traumatised my children by using language that isn't allowed at home and yelling. Thankfully, I have writing to calm myself down. 

I suppose there is an upside to all of this; my children respect and love me. I love and respect them. That doesn't mean they can do what they want. Boundaries are important. The house is being cleaned as I type, and as a parent, losing your cool happens. The world has become overrun with parenting tips and how to's. You are not supposed to yell at your children or punish them, but the reality is different. 

Parents snap now and again. It's okay to tell them off. I'm not saying beat them or mistreat them. That is never alright. However, parenting is not all about love and cuddles, sometimes there are angry, ugly moments, and that's life. 

As an aside, my middle son did not get punished. I did have him do his chores while the other two was cleaning their rooms. The eight-year-old female spawn earned her punishment but trying to insinuate herself into the argument between me and the eldest. There is only one Alpha female in this house, and it's not her. At least not yet, one day I will be weak and she will take me out, but that's not today.