Bitter Bowl of Punishment
Posted on March 14, 2008
Filed Under kids, parenting, challenges, apology |
This morning I am settling in to a big old bowl of consternation and regret. The usually delicious golden flakes and sweet granola clusters feel like pebbles in my mouth. The after taste of remorse lingers to remind me of what a first rate asshole I was to O this morning.
Usually, when he and I clash over homework or piano or what should be considered appropriate school attire, we both sort of dig into our outrage, exchange some nasty barbs and get on with it. But today their were hot tears of shame and frustration (his, not mine) and nothing kills me more than to see him cry. I would have preferred a good tongue lashing, a slammed door, the language of rage is so much easier for to me handle than that of sorrow.
We woke a little late. I had a lousy night’s sleep and the time change is still messing with my internal clock. So it was hustle and hurry from first light. When I offered the usual breakfast choices, a litany of cereals, a frozen waffle, a bagel and cream cheese, a big cry of Not again went up from the Madmarriage progeny and I shrugged and urged them to decide already because time was moving on and the bus would soon be gone.
O decided to press me. “I want your cereal, Mom. Vanilla Almond Crisp. Why can’t I have that?”
I explained in my best pre-coffee voice which is, admittedly, sort of unreasonable and shrieky, that there was only one bowl’s worth of Vanilla Almond Crisp left in the box and since it’s the only breakfast cereal in the world that a person with wheat allergies can eat and actually enjoy because it tastes a whole lot better than the rest of the Gluten Free cereals available, which is to say more like food than dirt, I’d appreciate it if he’d chose a one of the other 15 varieties in the cabinet so that I could actually have breakfast as well.
And he whined and carried on and said “Everything else is so boring and I hate all the other choices and you’re so mean.”
He even threw in a “You’re evil” for effect and I snapped, just buckled with frustration and fatigue. I grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and slammed it on the counter, filling it to the very top with Vanilla Almond Crisp and sort of hurled it in his direction.
“It’s yours then. Okay? It’s all yours. And I’ll just wait for someone to offer to run out the grocery and buy me something I can actually eat because God Knows Prince O should have exactly what he wants for breakfast even if that means that the rest of us go hungry.”
And he just stared at it there in front of him and began to cry. He said, “No it’s yours Mom. You have it. It’s yours,” with big fat tears rolling down his face and I was immediately ashamed and amazed at my own lack of self control. I tried to change my mind and urged him to eat it.
We did the No, reallly, it’s yours thing back and forth a few times while he wept. I tried for an apology and he just left the kitchen without eating anything at all.
Twenty minutes later when we braced ourselves against the cold and huddled for the bus, all seemed to be forgiven but his face was the streaky, swollen red of distress.
I considered throwing away the cereal but then thought it best that I eat my own regret with a spoon. Each bite its own act of atonement. I am sure to have bowel trouble all day because of this bitter bowl of punishment. This time it won’t be the gluten but the shame and I’ll deserve it.
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