- Throw distractions in comments and remarks mentioning life occurrences so far in the past it takes time to bring them forward into the "thinking" part of the brain
- Hurl insults that aren't accurate and use language that blames, insults and includes numerous accusations
- Explode your power through cc's and direct sends of email messages altering and leaving out "segments" & "sections" to anyone you can think of
- Involve everyone even if it causes pain or doesn't affect them directly
- It's your job to ensure confusion and promote negativity
"Kids say the darndest things' is a quote from a talk show host who had a fun part of his show "interviewing" very young school age children who sat on chairs on the stage of his TV program in the earlier days of television.
Art Linkletter, Host of the show, moved beside each one with a microphone (a necessity back then) and asked each a question. He listened and watched.
He often knew just the remark that might get a really interesting answer -- one the audience would laugh about but sometimes the parents would cringe and possibly "lecture" their child once home.
My oldest son takes a twist on this "funny" approach to communication.
He uses "loaded language" to ensure conflict and continuing discord.
Unlike Mr Linkletter, my son isn't "putting on a show" but he is using children to get a response from his audience and in some ways they're both guilty of taking innocence and using it as a tool to get notoriety and recognition.
Enter my oldest son. The subject of this blog entry.
Bright. Capable. Not to say the others weren't, he was just "the first" and therefore almost always "led the way" for the others in terms of what was offered, what was given and what was done.
Eduation: Early start. Toddler. As soon as he was "toilet trained" which was 18 months. He walked at 8 months. Yes, walked, not tried, not stood -- walking....and almost running.
Sports: What's your interest? What would you like to try?
He named it, we provided it. And, of course for the other two as well.
We were "those" parents of the 70's and onward; there with the hand and the wallet outstretched.
We were children of the Post War era; parents who'd lived through the Depression; many started the movement to the suburbs; all wanted a better life for their children.
What do you want? What do you need? When do you need it? How high do you want me to jump and how many times and how far do you want me to bend over backwards?
We'll go out and get all the equipment tonight after my challenging day working, we'll write a check for the membership/dues/donation -- whatever it takes, son, after all, we do it "for you".
Interested in computers? Science? Drama? Whatever! Here for you.
Two jobs at once I'm trying to work.
Your brother has similar wants and needs but I'll find the time, why, I'll "make" the time -- for you, for him.
Enter a little baby sister. MUCH older Mom and Dad. College? Right! Take your pick. We can't afford some but we'll find a way to get you THE BEST. We'll take on debt and years later.....you'll say you paid your entire way through.
We have the bills. When you came home to "reorganize" your way of thinking and applying yourself at college at their request and returned, we took up the slack and the additional cost of your "lost" benefits because of poor grades. But you don't seem to remember that, my son.
We gave you a monthly stipend. You "needed" furnishings for your room. We bought them. Clothing? Got it. Want to "build" a special loft for your room. Consider it done. We're in town, we buy it, rent a truck to cart the materials and, when Summer roles around, we pay for the storage of that and other "college items" until you head back for another year of "fun" and "games" and some studying.
You need a car at school? Well, it would be less expensive than flying you home for breaks. Here, son, take mine. I'll use the old car a family member has; it's not as reliable but I'll make do.
You drove where? What? Why? A little "romantic getaway" and you visited a cousin but no one ever told us about your "travels". How thoughtful of them. How deceitful of you. And that was only one time you "used" your privilege for self gain, no thought for or about others and certainly no respect for the sacrifices of your family.
That car was supposed to be given to your brother, attending the same college, had two more years to go. But that didn't matter to you, the golden boy, the always being given what was meant to lead to a dream future but ended up building a multi level nightmare for your immediate family.
FAST FORWARD. More than a decade has passed. Ups and downs. A marriage we did not attend because there was no regret, no feeling of shame about striking me down, causing teeth to be broken and others to be cracked (years of putting off dental work and then being told by son, "you should have gotten that done years ago" as we struggled to cope financially, physically and emotionally after using everything we had to care give for two immediate family members.
Thanks, son, for loading on the guilt when it was already piled high by circumstance.
Something always setting you off. Then came the "taking home your toys so we couldn't play anymore" action. That was actually your removing any and all contact with the children you began to have. Started with the first. Went on for a while. We came back together, not close, but communicating and meeting in your brother's home when we visited.
This is the third time, if I recall correctly. This time it's been almost three years. Let's see, five children now -- don't know the name of the fifth, we weren't told you were "expecting" or when the baby was born, if it was a boy or girl (a boy), a name or anything. This time the split was over your father and my gravesite. The one you manipulated into controlling completely and solely the erection of a monument and internment.
I wrote you I could't find the grave and how a marker really needed to be put up.
You responded, "If you want it so bad, do it yourself".
What a tribute to your father.
What a lie you tell about what you do.
Your brother says we can't get along because we're alike.
You're not like me, I'm not like you You are, my son, like your grandfather. You are self centered. You are focused on what you need, not helping family, not seeing needs, not caring.
Your brother is right. I never understood my father and his self centered actions and I never will understand yours.
How sad you choose a woman who supports your actions, perhaps encourages them. She gains, after all, more power over you. That's hard to write. Sad to write.
I read letters you sent to us before you "hooked up" with her. Between the lines I see you were "ripe" to be picked up by someone who would accompany you on paths away from and towards what she wanted, what she needed.
I've often wondered. Wondered about her brother, who died of an overdose. Who had a mother who was an RN.
I admit I did not see what you were doing and had done but I cannot understand how a mother with a Nursing degree cannot see someone on drugs. Or, did she try and fail. As I did with you?
Finding letters you wrote. Before she came into your life.
They weren't angry. They weren't hostile. They included some choices I see now as detrimental but saw then as "typical college student" and "typical first born".
Close your eyes. You can't see. You can be seen. You believe you cannot. When will you learn. When will you see.When will you know the future depends on the past
Like your grandmother, you believe you can change someone. You cannot.
I commend you for your devotion to your children. It's sad you do not realize that in turning away from those who have been there for you, cared about you, are being shoved aside to ensure you have no support, no one on "your side".
I wish it hadn't happened. I wish you'd heard our concern, your father's, your grandmother's and mine.
Time will pass. You have choices. When will you see truth and accept it?