Heather Barton

I came home from “Playing” to hear the story of what Conor did THAT day.  This is my youngest son, who looks like his father but takes after his mother in temperament.  He feels things to an extreme, reacts with an extreme reaction and gets really, really mad when things don’t go his way.

You don’t see this much in me now because I’m 47

and I’ve learned that if I get frustrated at being denied what I want, then the solution is to find a way to get it or get over it.  I can only hope to try and teach this to my little 8-year old as he ages!

Anyway the story went Conor got very, very angry at something his older brother Evan was doing.  Most likely his older brother was trying to play something, anything, without the constant presence of his little brother.  Because along with Conor’s adoration of Evan comes constant noise, in the form of comments or sound effects.

And while Evan is extremely easy-going, even he has his limits.

So they had an argument and Conor’s solution was to grab a piece of scrap paper and write this.  After which he went outside and stood in the front yard holding it up.  (as if anyone could read it!!)  Look at that scowl!

Apparently he’d decided he wanted OUT of the family.  And his solution was to put himself up for adoption.  Oh, but not only that.  He valued himself enough to charge money for the “privilege” of adopting him!

Such an entrepreneur!

In my life I’ve done a bit of traveling.  When I was 5 and my brother was 3 & a half my mother had the opportunity to go to Sweden.  I think she was even pregnant with my little sister at the time.  Anyway she took that opportunity, and us, on the long air flight to Sweden.

We were in coach and she tells the story of the crazy kids running up and down the aisle.  The stewardess (hey!  That’s what they were called back then and I’m sticking to the period!) anyway the stewardess asks my mother to “please control your children”.  My mother points to us, sitting quietly coloring (angels in childhood, hellions in adulthood!)  and explains “these are her children”.  Turns out those kid’s mother was in first class, snookered and she’d booked her kids in coach!  Totally inappropriate and in a perverse way I admire it!!

All I remember of Sweden was the amazingly huge marble staircase that spiraled up and around the elevator.  Oh and that elevator!  I remember the cool way the elevator doors closed with a metal gate and a window in the doors so you could see the floors as they passed.  To a 5 year old it was wonderful.

I did manage to go to Canada when I was 9 and then again when I was 16.. but does that really count?  Well the 9 year old story does.. I’ll tell that later.  So the next big trip opportunity was when I was 23.  My mother went on a lecture tour of Europe.  5 countries, I don’t know how many cities in a 3 week span.

We were complete newbies to a European lecture tour and my mother over-speculated our needs and we ended up taking 9 bags.  That’s right.. 2 women with 9 bags!  1 bag held the master tapes, so they had to be hand inspected at every airport.  We’d taken then in case we found someone who wanted to duplicate our vhs videos!  Did I mention this was in the 80’s!  1.5 bags each of clothing and the rest of the bags was all product to sell at each lecture where my mother was speaking.

So I’ve seen Paris.  Not impressed.   All I wanted was a hearty breakfast.. the closest I could get was a croissant and a cafe au lait.  Notre Dame is DEPRESSING!  So yea  there’s a hunchback in the tower, it so deserves one!  St. Chappell was beautiful, I will admit that,  and Versailles is WAY too big.

Oh and the Louvre.. OMG.  Me and art, its like me and a Republican.. only in small doses please!  And the Louvre is like the Republican National Convention!  This is me at the Louvre… walking and walking….. painting, painting, statue, painting, statue… Oh Wow.. BENCH!  Bliss.

Happily it was only 4 days in Paris and then it was off to The Netherlands.  Such pretty money.  And then off to Germany.  The buildings were so NEW!  (WWII joke here)  And I almost LEAPED out of the car at one point when I saw a Burger King.  I knew THERE I would KNOW I’d enjoy what I purchased.   Although I did enjoy an evening with my mother’s friend Welda.  She and I talked brash sex and embarrassed the 21 year old accompanying us.  That part was fun, hee hee!  Then it was off to Austria (where I DIDN’T get to see the Lipizzaner Stallions.  And finally to Switzerland, where I did pass Lego Headquarters.. they had Lego pieces the size of cars on the sides of the building!

Through all that, every time we went to a new country I had to re-price all the product we’d brought into that new money price.  Me and math and the exchange rate with a calculator.  (Remember 80’s…  no Google!)   It was just hell.

And sweet-buckets, those countries are SMALL.   As an American you get used to a country that takes 5 DAYS to cross by train, not 5 HOURS!  I’d just be getting comfortable when the conductor would come around AGAIN and ask to see my passport.  Which was incredibly annoying since my mother (dating a P.I. who’d filled her head with all the people who were “out to scam her”) made me wear this inside the shirt, under my armpit, zippered I.D. holder, where I had to keep  my money, passport and anything else she deemed irreplaceable.

She tells her friends.. I’ll never take another surly teenager on a trip to Europe again.

I was 23!!!

And have you tasted European deserts!  They sooooo don’t believe in sugar!  Cut me some slack, this sugaraholic was in withdrawal!

So when others say… “Oooo, Paris” and express the desire to tour Europe I’m reminded of my experiences and I just grin.  Because I know somewhere in those countries there are people who say, “Ooo America, I’ve always wanted to see Disneyland.”

Been there… reminds me of the Louvre.

So it was a typical weekend morning for my boys and we were all wrestling around in my king-sized bed.

As usual the youngest got a little upset I was tickling him too much and joking around too much.  Basically not listening to him as perfectly as he would like.  So he stomps out of the room and goes into the other room where my middle son, Evan, was reading. And I hear this…

Evan:   “Ow!  You hit me!”

Footsteps of Conor stomping out of the room.

Me (yelling into the hallway):    “Conor, don’t hit Evan…..   pause to let that sink in…. Tickle him, he needs the exercise.”

Footsteps of Conor walking BACK into the room.

Evan:   “No!  No!  Hit me!  Hit me!”

Boy’s got his priorities.. he’d rather take the punishment than TAKE the punishment!

My youngest looks like a mini-version of his father but, well, in many ways he’s all me when it comes to his personality.  He wants what he wants, when he wants it.  And he’ll pout, manipulate or pitch a fit sometimes when he’s denied.

Then there’s his impact on those around him.  He’s trained his older brothers to run when he loses his temper.  I keep telling them, he’s only 8 and you’re almost a foot taller than him and twice his weight.  Don’t let him push you around.  “But he’s going to kill us!” is their response.

So I’m quite proud he’s NOT a bullying personality, despite his loose control of his temper.  When he does get angry he tends to put himself in a time out these days.   And he doesn’t get bored or lonely which is half the problem of a bully.  Like me he’s perfectly happy to play alone.  And like his father he’s perfectly happy to get lost in his own thoughts.  One would think that a solitary child would get bullied.  And I just found out he does.  But listen to how he handles it.

When he was in kindergarten he was invited to a birthday party.  All the kids were playing in a field and according to Conor… he had gone up to the birthday boy and thanked him for inviting him to the party.  The birthday boy rudely said, “I didn’t invite you, my mom did… I didn’t want you here.”   Conor got upset and, well, attacked him.  Parents were quickly on the scene and no damage was done. Or so I was told as I wasn’t there, the spouse was.

Perhaps most parents would be shocked but I was a little proud.  That boy won’t be insulting CONOR again… and perhaps he’s learned that words have a consequence, also.  Yes, Conor was spoken to about handling his feelings with his fists.  And today he proved he’s learned it.

Conor has been bullied for the past few months by this 5^th grader who apparently has been doing verbal abuse to everyone “forever” according to Evan, my 5^th grader.  When Jacob first started spreading rumors, (he spread a rumor around the school that Conor pooped on the bathroom floor) Conor couldn’t understand WHY Jacob would say lies about him.

I heard Evan explain these facts of life to his younger brother, “That’s just Jacob.  He does that.  There’s no stopping him.”

Conor took that as face value so he didn’t take the lies personally and forgot about it.  I didn’t hear any more reports until today.  Today Evan and Conor were discussing the fact Conor got a sorry out of Jacob because Conor tattled.

Questioning what happened got me this story.  Apparently Jacob told Conor he “sucked balls”.  (Luckily this conversation took place in the car so they couldn’t see me smile at THAT one.)   When I asked Conor how he replied to that he admitted he did something wrong.  He sadly told me, “I said a bad thing about his mother.”  I cringed but asked for more details.  “I said his mom would make Medusa turn to stone.”

Evan chimes in, “And Jacob just walked away.  I didn’t think anyone would get him to do that.”

Holding  back my chuckles and trying NOT to beam with a little pride I reassured Conor that I felt he’d handled that situation pretty well.  Hey… not reacting with his fists… that’s an improvement!  Of course, apparently Jacob is twice Conor’s size, with A.D.D. to the power of 10 and his parents have given up on trying to modify his behavior.   I guess my young gladiator won’t engage an unknown opponent out of his weight class!

But honestly… this Jacob kid needs to be beat up.  Oh stop judging me!  We’ve taken so much aggression out of our kids they don’t know how to defend themselves.  They just take it, letting bullies and people walk over them.  How is that preparing them for being strong adults.  I’m not saying bring back the Dueling System, but if your kid verbally abuses mine again and again, my kid should have the right to punch yours.

That’s all I’m saying.  And what do I plan on teaching my kids?  Try to handle it with negotiation or explanation, then do your best to ignore the perpetrator.  But if nothing gets it to stop or it gets physical, then take it physical yourself but be ready for the consequences and take them too.

Because you don’t have to TAKE abuse, just because someone dishes it out.  And I’m not going to let my kids grow up believing THAT!

Oh and a last note… remember the post way back when about the combined birthday party with the  huge bouncy in the park where the Autistic impulse control issue child ended up fighting the girls because the “name called” (which was his button) …. turns out one of the girls was Jacob’s older sister.   Hmmmm…. patterns.