..in the Universe, after America’s veto right in the United Nations, must belong to parents, or so I thought. When I was growing up in suburbia in the seventies there was no more-powerful word to be heard from a parent.
No meant No. If you asked for something and was given the No, you ventured no further. There was no back chatting or crying or even pleading. The word No meant the end of the matter, and you got on with life. Some children played parents up against each other, and often got a Yes by just asking the other parent at the appropriate moment.
For some reason or another when the word No exits my mouth, it changes matter, much like the transporter beam in Star Trek. Even when I raise my voice, add a grating rumble from my throat, and give a stern look at the recipient, it just has the opposite effect. I’ve always known this, but I continue to hope that just once the No would have the desired effect, and the person would say, “okay” and move on.
Since September last year I’ve been dating the most wonderful woman I could ever have asked to cross my path. I had my eye on her for almost two years, before she finally became single again, and I found out that she had liked me for almost as long. We hit it off immediately and I was convinced she was my soul mate. Not only is she beautiful, she also has an amazingly spontaneous personality that had me smiling silently on more than one occasion. What I had forgotten was that although my love was single, she was the mother of two young children, and things would change, dramatically.
I made a choice early in life that I do not want to get married and have children. Much of my decision stemmed from knowing that I had put my parents through hell for at least 20 of the 40 years of my life. I just couldn’t envisage myself as a good parent, and I was certain I had none of the skills to be a great parent. So for most of my life I avoided child minding, even during the briefest of confrontations.
Now I find myself living with the woman that I love, and two children. The girl is 5 years old, and the boy 7 years old. From the start I said to my love that the kids are no problem and I can deal with it. Was I ever wrong? Never was I more confused as to the meaning of the word No than ever before. I thought it would be simpler. Not dead easy, just simpler. The boy would ask me for something, and if I thought it inappropriate, I would say No and continue with what I was doing. Soon I’d hear crying come from the children’s room, and I’d go over to investigate. The boy would be sitting on his bed sobbing his heart out. When I ask what was wrong, the boy would reply that he wanted this or that and that I had said No. I’d be stymied! I’ve tried to explain to the boy that he was very wise to ask if he wanted something, but then he would also have to accept that if the answer was No, he should be grown up about it and accept that sometimes his requests will be denied.
Asking permission to do something meant there was a certain amount of doubt in one’s mind whether it was the right thing to do, hence we ask permission. For instance; if he had asked me if he could play outside, I could say No because a) His clothing was inappropriate, and I would tell him to change, or b) it was late or getting dark, and he would soon have to go bath or have supper. Also I explained that No today did not necessarily mean No tomorrow. A parent weighs the pros and cons of a given situation and responds in a manner appropriate to the well being of the child. Is it no so? The boy was strangely calm and understanding, and I thought I had finally made a breakthrough.
But by tomorrow, everything would be back to ‘normal’, and I find that migraine creeping up from around the eyebrows again. I’ve even had paranoid moments where I’m certain it’s a deliberate attempt by the kids to make me mad and thereby get me to pack up and get the fuck out. It made sense sometimes, as I move from punishment to shouting, screaming and more often lately to quiet talk. I’ve even tried ignoring them completely, but nothing helps.
For the most part I find myself feeling helpless. I cannot begin to tell you how it pains me to see the sadness in my Love’s eyes each time I loose it with the kids. I love her so much, it is indescribable, but a parent I am not. There is nothing in the world I want more than to make her happy every day, but my mind is fucked. It can’t be easy for her to see this all the time. How she does it I don’t know. The kids listen to her, and hardly ever is it even necessary for her to raise her voice even 1 decibel.
Every evening I promise myself to give her all my attention, as I do every morning, and all goes well until we pick the kids up after work, or they get up in the morning. My mind has no time to rest, to even think. Its just turmoil after turmoil, after turmoil.
I cannot stand the thought of loosing my one Love. I go back to the grindstone and try again.
