The Zion Chronicles: The Good The Bad and The Ugly Betty Dude

I’m still standing. It’s better some days than others. This past Friday it got pretty damn intense. See whenever Zion is away from home for a little more than 24 hours he some how forgets the rules and regulations of the house. He was gone for 48 hours over the holiday with my brother so I had my work cut out for me. He came in wanting to not do anything but laze around and allowed to do so until late afternoon. Then it was time to get to work.

Let me back track a little. I’d visited his school Tuesday (after some erroneous ass story about his Spanish teacher not allowing him to take an exam for Science…wah?). I was irate and ready to climb the walls. It’s been really difficult to strike a balance between worrying the hell out of his teachers giving and them enough space to do their job. It get’s even hairier when certain teachers won’t contact you when it is clear your child is failing their class (D or less in my home, I don’t know about these shady ass CMS standards). I even had a teacher claim she was about to go to administration on my son because of his excessive talking in her class. Really?! So we don’t even pass go? Don’t even collect $200? We definitely don’t talk to the child’s parent. We just go to administration. Nice. Did I mention said teacher responded to me via email with this sentence of sorts:

Good afternoon Mrs. Rose, Zion grades are poorly because he didn’t bring his homework and he didn’t finish his classwork, he talk to much in class, he needs to use his time correctly in order to finish his work, already I need to move him to another desk.”

…and she’s teaching my child. *sigh*.

Well back to our story. By all accounts he needs to make some real changes in classroom behavior and organization. Things I already knew, but how do I make it happen?! I can barely get him to do homework (which apparently he’s only pretending to do.) It’s on him right? That’s what I’m supposed to be doing. How do I decide where I should intervene though. When do certain things become a parent’s duty? I have taken everything from him that bleeps or zings and he now has to “pay” to get them back and for basic things (i.e. watching television) with time spent working (school work, house work, etc.) Is this enough? Is it too much. *Sigh* Appointments with the educational team are made. I sigh. I cry. I dig in. Which brings us back to Friday.

My mom gave him the option of going with her to the store to pick up some energy and get him out of the post Turkey day slump, which I totally get, but he refuses to go. I’m laying down for work while all of this is going on so I arise from my mild coma. Then the stand off begins: (cue the theme from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly)

Me: Zion, you need to go ahead with your Grandmother.

Zion: I don’t wanna go!

Me: You’re going. You’re not gonna lay around in here all day.

Zion: I’m tired! I’ve been gone for two days…

Me: What?! You act like you’ve been to war or some shit! If you don’t get your shit on and get outta here…! (yes I cussed, I’m working on it. Call DSS if you need to.)

Zion grumbles into his room, puts on anything literally and slams himself next to his Grandmother and begins to mumble. This begins to irritate her and she reascends her original invitation. She doesn’t want him along aggravating the hell out of her, and I truly don’t blame her!

Me: Okay Zion, then you can go ahead and get your homework started.

Zion: I’m going with Gram!

Me: Oh no you’re not!

Zion: Yes, I am! I don’t wanna stay here!

Me: It’s fine, you’ll just do do your homework when you get back. Either way. You’re doing your homework.

My mother once again denies his company. He shoves himself against her and begins a round of hostile mumbling. I have exceeded the boiling point. I box his ears like he’s Oliver twist (again call DSS if you need to.) Stunned by the turn of events Zion goes into his Sophia routine: (cue the theme for The Color Purple.)

It took all this just to get him to get to his homework and stay focused. I don’t like having to be this parent. I don’t like that looking at him after all this his face read an intense hatred of me. I found myself growing this tiny fear in the pit of my stomach while getting ready for work. I’d been following the story of Michael Brea (the dude who sliced his mom to bits because she was full of demons). Mind you I don’t think Zion will rule me demonized and slice my head off in the next week or so (I’ve hidden all of our samurai swords just in case though), I just think that hostility toward parents now-a-days has manifested itself in slayings or other family tragedies. Maybe it’s an unfounded concern, but boy did he look consumed with the fires of hatred when I told him he needed to read two chapters instead of one due to the lag time over the holiday.

Where is the line between normal tween/teen aged moodiness, and “Is this lil negro plottin’ my murder?” *SIGH* I dunno. What I can do is try to control my anger a little more, and it has gotten lots better and pick my battles. I try not to be a complete tyrant, which is why I allowed him to leave the house for a few days. He needed it. I needed it. It’s Saturday. We’re back to the grid iron in a little over 24 hours.

Rosie.

Advertisements

The Zion Chronicles: Slap goes the two piece

To give you an example of just how damn QUICK it gets on and poppin’ between my loving son and I:

Friday afternoon. An easy pick up day as the weekend is upon us and there was no need to deal with homework right away. Wait? I’d already said I wasn’t anyway. So there really shouldn’t be an issue right? Ten minutes into our car ride I remind him I had a show and see if he still wanted to go (as he said he wanted to earlier). He says yes, so we head off to get some subs before I’m called. We get said subs, everything is going great and we strike up a conversation about acting.

I have always said and believe that my son is a stronger actor than me. He just has an ability to shed fear instantly when faced with an audience that I have yet to acquire. He says he didn’t know I felt that way. I once again acknowledge what I’d said. Then I’m not sure if he starts to analyze any of my prior performances in his mind, but a second or so later he tells me that he’d noticed how nervous I’d always seemed on stage. I, having to perform that night am not stomaching this too well (maybe I would have at a different time, but not just then. Alas children have no filter.) I ask him firmly and repeatedly to not use my compliment as a weapon to make me feel bad about myself. He glares at me momentarily, and as I’m asking him to confirm that he won’t he refuses to open his mouth. I told him since he can’t answer me he could stay home because I didn’t need to bring that type of negativity with me to a performance.

(side note: This is a pet peeve of mine. Why the hell do people always want to stir up some unresolved whatever or some new bullshit right when you are about to do something major?! Aarrgh!)

I let it go with little struggle, and even managed to turn on some music for the remainder of the ride home. We get to the house. He rushes out of the car, and speed walks to the door not wanting me to get the opportunity to unlock it. He bangs on it so his Grandmother will answer. She does. He jams through the door. She give me the “What-happened-now” face. I tell her what happened and mean while Zion has descended upon her left over two-piece chicken and biscuit from lunch. Like his Mom he’s an emotional eater. I tell him point blank to put it down and that he doesn’t get to pig out because he’s pissed with me. He chooses to ignore me and attempts to brush past me still snacking so I slap it out of his hand. It felt pretty juvenile, and it was a direct response to how disrespected I felt and how furious I was (I even made him pick it up 😦 ).

That is the kind of stuff that I want to stop doing, and I know if I keep acknowledging the behavior and trying to make changes those changes will assuredly come.

Keep dancing, singing, swimming, praying, and waving your magic sticks for me.

Rosie.

The Zion Chronicles: Prelude to a break through…or break down.

Today, I decided to let go and let my son take his educational reigns as he believes he knows far more than I do about, well, EVERYTHING. I can safely say that everyone in this house is 100% miserable based mainly in the fact that Zion can’t get it together academically. Now I’m for sure not trying to say it’s his “fault” it’s just that all the screaming, crying, cussing, fussing, breaking of things has left our spirits a little worse for the wear. Btw, go ahead and call DSS if you want. I could use the break.

I’m just plain damn tired, and I want to love my son unconditionally, and look forward to seeing him after school, and not get a stomach ache when thinking about homework time with him. Now some may be shocked when I ask for the ability to love my son unconditionally. Aren’t we supposed to love them with our whole entire selves the second they slip out of that warm inner dwelling called our womb where for nine months (give or take) they have drained us of nutrients, made us nauseated, caused us to projectile vomit in some cases, gave us gas, indigestion, made us raging bitches, weeping dish rags, gave us high blood pressure, gestational diabetes, swollen feet, aching everything, and a general case of the why-am-I-alives? Yep, that’d make anybody brim over with love and adoration.

Old folks say they didn’t ask to be here. They’re right they didn’t, and you know what they didn’t ask for either? All the shit we expect of them. If my last 11 years with my son has taught me anything it’s that he is his own person with all the rights and priviledges that come with it. We in our infinite need to control our destiny and the destiny of everyone else have concocted a fantasy of what our children will be and how they will please us and make us proud and validate our sub par existence. Horse shit, all of it. First, how self centered is it to think that we are SO important that a brand new life has been created to generate happiness for us by becoming miniature more successful versions of ourselves purely for our satisfaction until we die. Second, we’re afraid that if they don’t it some how reflects some great flaw within ourselves (again self centered). And third, heellloooo? don’t you remember how bad you hated your parents and other adults for trying this shit with you?

Which brings me back to the beginning of the end, the letting go of the reigns. Yes, it does sound strange to leave an 11 year old in charge of his academic affairs but I don’t know what else to do. The realization that Zion is not going to become what I envisioned and that I have completely no control over it is terrifying, but I’m glad I came to this realization. The truth is that I become down right rageful and verbally abusive when homework isn’t going well. It simply isn’t worth it to try to maintain some illusion of control at the expense of my child’s self esteem, mental and physical well being. I’m definitely not turning my back completely, I’ve told him if he needs genuine help, I’ll definitely be here. Disrespect disqualifies him for any help (which is an issue he has at home, but fortunately not at school give thanks for small miracles.) So we’ll see where it goes from here.

Keep me in your prayers and pagan ceremonies!

Rosie.

Own Yo Shit! : Rosie’s manifesto on covert insanity.

Maybe I’m being unrealistic. Maybe I’m expecting that because I set it out and let it out for all of Charlotte to read that everybody else would fling open the door on their inner sanctum of craziness and free themselves. I saw visions of people running through the streets confessing all their strange erroneous habits and secrets to their neighbors who would in turn nod in understanding and confess theirs. What a convoluted dream world I was living in! No matter how much I’d love for them too, no matter how much of “mine” I show in hopes that they will show “theirs”, people will STILL insist that they are perfectly normal and that everyone else is fucked up.

The covertly insane come in many varieties. I’m sure you the reader can think of five just upon reading this, but I’ll just name two types here for examples sake.

The Shit Chef

I stand completely befuddled and amazed at people whom I watch prey on the happiness of others like insatiable vultures. Back stabbing, undermining, incitement of bickering, and persistent stirring of the pot are their utensils. They plant seeds of destruction, walk away, and wait salivating for the harvest. Fine young cannibals they are; All the while coming to you with a smile grasping the knife in their back pocket.

They come disguised as friends bearing “friendly” heads up about situations that you as their “friend” should definitely be kept on top of: i.e. “Let me tell you how fucked up he is…”, “I can’t believe she said that to you?” “Did you see how high he was.” Do you see how fucking insane YOU are creating misery to gratify your own issues with your self esteem?!

Let me digress for a moment. I would be a hypocrite if I did not acknowledge that the old adage “it takes one to know one” applies here. My self esteem has been this low, and while I may not have gone to the lengths that I see some going to destroy relationships I’ve said my share of evil, unwarranted shit to allow me to feel good about myself in the moment. So I can relate to where the root behavior comes from, but the keyword today is: ACCOUNTABILITY. We are accountable for the stuff we put out there. There is always a tab to pay for destructive behaviors, and I’m not talking some weird mystical karmic “what-you-done-to-me-done-already-been-done-to-you!” shit; I’m saying you just can’t go around spreading misery and expect to be happy. How do I know? Nothing I said about others or did to undermine situations/relationships got me what I wanted and actually left me even more miserable with even lower self esteem.

I also don’t pretend to be completely rid of the behavior, but what I do posses is the ability to OWN it and change the course of my actions immediately upon noticing I’m on some ill shit. Try it. You might like it.

The Double Sided Coin:

Two words: Eddie Long. You talk about one thing, and completely live another. Here’s a situation from my life I’ll donate (no worries if it’s about you, no names.) He is dude that is celebrating his pride in his “wifey boo” and new family. Facebook loved up. Then how come you’re hitting me up trying to get a side order of ass, then berating me because I live with my mom. Really? The wrongs about this one situation are over flowing. I’ll just leave it at this, I’d rather have my self respect and be able to maintain myself fiscally live with my Momma than to move into an apartment alone praying for the day that you and wife boo fall out so I can have a quick turn to be little me physically. There it is.

I can’t say I have direct experience in this as hypocrisy has never been my strong suit (my co-dependent guilt won’t allow it) I will say that my life has been greatly affected by people who were two sided coins. It’s confusing, misleading, hurtul and totally unfair to those in your immediate life. Pick a side and try to stay on it. Notice I said TRY. I know we don’t always get it right, but damn, at least try to be an 80/20 instead of a 60/40, everyone in your life will thank you.

Owning our shit helps to free us up of guilt, fear, and anger while simultaneously making the world a better place. Ownership with out action however is pointless. See: the guy who “told that girl I had my baby momma at home.” while still carrying out beauxed up activities with her. Yes action is a complete MUST, it doesn’t change over night though. It took me over 1.5 years to stop bad mouthing my guy friend’s gf cause I wanted him for myself. While you’re waitin? Well do other shit, I dunno like eating, breathing, sleeping, eating. This is life and it’s too short to be trapped in a never ending loop of insanity.

Rosie.

Craving Normal

So I’m doing a random round of facebook stalking. Let me take that back. Stalking would imply combing through peoples profiles with ill intentions or some other type of malice. Nope. I was just peeking in on folks, a lot of whom I’ve dreamed big with. Some of us come hell or water high are out here attempting to kick up some form of something despite any circumstances. For many though, the dreams have changed. “Life” has happened. Marriages and babies in some instances; unfortunate illnesses or injuries in others. Very simple to very complex things that have caused dreams to be indefinitely deferred or to die altogether. In some cases it is a pleasant death as an alternate path to a happiness “equivalent” has come along. In others it is a long arduous road. A wait for the inevitable.

I’m getting older. Duh. I’ve not run across that alternate happiness. Sometimes I find myself wishing that “life” maybe a “stable” marriage or relationship would happen. Just a lil taste a normal might not be bad. It’s not happened that way for me though. The signs aren’t pointing in those directions. *sigh* So, I still hold pretty fast to my dreams and aspirations; Thankfully I’ve not been maimed or otherwise injured. Is this my purgatory? Maybe. It’s not such a sucky place to be. I know I’m not alone here. In fact we’re a pretty swingin’ crowd. And I have hope, lots of it that I will someday be something or for acceptance of the possibility that I will do nothing for the rest of my life but tinker around and pick up a cat here or there. The boy will go off to school, or marriage, or in hot pursuit of whatever he thinks he should be. Then what. Then what?

I’ve been inspired…

To use this blog to continue to write about me in a public forum (thanks Joel Sumner). Not sure what I’ll write about…maybe just everyday musings and blah blah blah. Maybe nothing. Time will tell. That is all. Go about your lives people!

Rosie.