“Go upstairs, son. You may come down when you’re calmer.”
I was gritting my teeth, trying to stand up straight. He raged towards me, throwing random things as he came across them. No one else was in his path but me. I stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding the out-dated baby gate open for him in silent expectation. He didn’t go upstairs. Not yet. No, first he came to me and swiftly kicked me in the leg. Then he darted up the stairs, daring me to follow.
I yelled instead. Because the stairs are just too much right now, and he knows it. He exploits my weakness in ways that you wouldn’t expect from a seven-year-old.
My kids are being jerks, and I know why.
I didn’t mean to miss it. I had big plans for heaping piles of Ticonderoga pencils, 3-ring binders, and an endless stash of glue sticks. After all, we’re out of glue sticks – my buying spree at last year’s back -to-school sales lasted us all year. Until now. Until the last, forlorn glue stick that I carefully used for the county fair projects, rationing out the tiny bit of glue left. We need to restock, and I blew it.
If you read all the blogs and the articles extolling the virtues of homeschooling, it sounds almost idyllic. Peaceful. Gentle times spent building relationships with our family, cherishing those amazing moments of discovery and learning.
Those moments happen, of course. And it can certainly be peaceful and gentle. But what about when it’s not?
My first post back after a long health issue and you’re probably thinking “the meds have addled her mind!” No, I’m not crazy. At least, if I am crazy, I’m not the only one experiencing it.
I’m a firm, sciency, logical kind of person. So if you had told me 5 years ago that I was an empath, I would have shrugged and walked on. If you persisted and explained what that meant …. well, I probably would have laughed in your face. Sorry about that.
I am an empath. No idea to what degree, but I’m sensitive enough to be bothered by lots of people around me, and to absorb emotions or aura or what-the-heckever-you-want-to-call-it from other people. It also means I’m a good listener, I have oodles of pointless, overwhelming pain over stuff people don’t even notice, and I like being around happy people.
I read an article last night that made me both sad and angry at the same time. I’m fairly sure that’s not what the author or individuals interviewed had in mind, but it was like looking into a mirror. I realized that despite my best efforts, society’s norms are so ingrained into my persona that I have little chance of really raising my daughter to be an independent, not-bound-by-gender-roles adult.