I thought I had arrived there a few years ago, when my then eight year old son, whom we will call "his royal highness", had decided that his bedtime was WAAAAAY earlier than his friends, and how could I do this to him? I was ruining what was certain to be his untarnished elementary school reputation. ALL of his friends had bedtimes way later than his, and we were just mean to make him go to bed at 8:30, when ALL of his friends went to bed at 9:30. This tirade was followed by notes from him, that were left after bedtime, slid under his door, with pictures showing multiple stick figures in various stages of sadness, and a box labled:
"Can I please stay up until 9? Check yes or no" with the corresponding boxes underneath. He was courteous enough to leave a pencil with the note for me and my husband, whom we will call the Admiral (he was in the Navy, and is always saying how he wants a whistle like the Von Trapp family), so that we could check these boxes.
I relented after Christmas that year, because since he was constantly leaving notes, he OBVIOUSLY wasn't going to bed, so I would give him what he wanted, and just use it as leverage when I needed it. (You will go brush your teeth now, or you are going to bed at 8:30).
I didn't know then that I had teetered on the edge of meanest strictest mom. I, however, was not there yet.
Last night, I reached the precipice.
My son, of whom I will divulge, has ADHD. This presents it's own bevy of challenges in and of itself, but the thing that mostly affects us is the crash after his meds wear off at about 5 o'clock. I need to preface this with the fact that the Admiral and I, as a parental unit, are big into family dinner hour. We have dinner, almost every night, as a family. I had this growing up, and I think it is very very important. I will say, out of 100% of the time, 95% of the nights, more than one child has a complete and total melt down. This, however is a post for a later time. Back on topic. He is crashing nightly, and I am trying to have a family dinner with 3 chatty toddlers, a tired but appreciative husband, and a son, who, nightly, looks like Eeyore on a bad day.
The food is never good. School is boring. There is nothing to tell. He didn't do anything all day. He doesn't feel like rehashing the day. You can practically see the storm cloud over his little red head.
On this particular night, he was extra aggitated. So we ask, "what is wrong honey."
"My friends all want me to play Call of Duty, and I told them I can't, but they said, 'it isn't that you can't, you just don't want to.' I told them 'go ask my mom' But they didn't believe me."
Now, I understand this may be a hot button issue with some parents. But as for me and my family, I will not let my kids play any video game that is not labled for their age. I am sorry I just won't. And I REALLY don't do shoot-em-up games, because personally I feel like they don't really teach them anything. It is not constructive, it is destructive, and that is just me. I am not saying you should not let YOUR kids play, but for me, this is our rule, so nanny nanny boo boo, it is freaking free country, I do what I want. I will damage my kids how I want, you damage yours how you want.
The Admiral takes a gentle approach:
"are you mad at your friends because they said that, or us because we won't let you?"
This was apparently the gateway he needed, because for the next 5 mintues straight, this kid, who barely speaks at dinner, is yelling, frothing at the mouth, going on a tirade about how we are the meanest and strictest parents in the whole school, and everyone gets to play but him, and demanding to know when will he be allowed to do it.
The Admiral calmly pulls out his phone, and looks at the rating on the game. "It is rated M for mature. So when you are mature."
"When will that be??"
"Probably when you are about 16"
Liken the next phrase from him to be like the phone call the mom makes from A Christmas Story to the mom of the kid Ralphie blames for teaching him the f-bomb.
"What....WHAT....WHAT!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" followed by crying of various intensity and pitches. He eventually calmed down, when the meds were out of his system. So I will attribute most of the tantruming to hormonal imbalance, to which I know a little bit about, so we are usually pretty easy on him for these outbursts, because 95% of the time, this kid is really a very very good kid. It is just the medicine that makes him a bit cray-cray. I get it. I didn't go through 3 pregancies and not learn something about hormones.
So how does this differ from any other tantrum? How does this make me the meanest mom of all, you ask? Well, because the grudge carried over to the next morning. He was STILL FREAKING TALKING ABOUT IT! Oh my word people. How could I abuse my poor child so bad, by not letting him play call of duty?? How have I become this parent? This heartless person you see before you, who will not let his 10 year old play a violent, blood laden video game?
Meanest. Strictest. Mom. Ever!
But it is a title I will proudly wear right now.
Great story!
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