Too Much Birthday

My daughter had a book about The Berenstain Bears (anyone remember them?) called "Too Much Birthday" and it certainly summed up last night for me.

I spent most of yesterday making 'the birthday cake' a job which I used to do annually (for the Baby Angel) but now do twice a year in my new role as wicked step mother. I hate cooking btw so this will indicate to you the labour of love involved in my cakes. Last year Small Boy had a light sabre cake. This year, to reflect his growing interest and skill in football, a guernsey cake!

Baby Angel was very confused as she looked at the guernsey I was using for a model.
"But his number is 8 Mum."
"Yes, but he's 9."
"But his NUMBER is 8!"
"Yes, but HE's NINE!!!"

Small Boy had received his presents and had Burger King with his Dad the day before, on his actual birthday, so last night was just an opportunity to have some cake together and spend some quality time. His Mum is apparently organising a 'party' for when school goes back.

All went well to begin with. Baby Angel had a friend over and the three of them played with Lego for ages, something Small Boy never does on his own as he lacks the confidence. Now, that may sound weird but this boy is so insecure that if he can't make the picture on the front of the Lego box, he won't attempt it. He inherited a huge box of random Lego from his older brothers but (gasp, horror) there are no pictures to show you what to make!!!!! So he usually doesn't touch it.

Aaanyway, the three of them played beautifully. No TV, interacting, co-operating...it was wonderful.
After dinner we had the cake, the blowing out of candles and the cutting.


And then it all went terribly wrong.

To begin with the two girls went off to have a spa bath together and SB wanted to join them. Amidst shrieks and giggles they assured him that this was most inappropriate as they wouldn't have any clothes on. Also, the spa only holds two! Of their size anyway.

Put out, he then asked if he could play for a while. 'Sure' I replied, 'you can have about 45 minutes and then if you want a shower and everything it'll be just about right for bedtime.'
This was not good enough.
"But its my birthday, I should be allowed to stay up as long as I like!"
A counter offer of an hour plus showering time was made. (This would have put bed time at around 10pm which is an hour later than normal anyway)

The descent into hysterics was spectacular to behold. This was the worst birthday of his life. Why did he have to cry on his birthday. Why do I always wreck everything. Stop shouting at him. (huh? I haven't started yet) His Mum lets him stay up til 11pm on school nights if there is a party or elder brother has a friend over. We are all mean to him. Don't speak to me. I hate you etc etc etc

He went to appeal to Dad who said that the hour of play time was a pretty good offer and he ought to take it. This enraged him further. He came back to abuse me again, this time accompanied by a flying chunk of Lego. Now, anyone who knows me will tell you that I do NOT deal well with deliberately aimed Lego!!!!!!!!!!

All bets were off. He could go to bed RIGHT NOW as far as I was concerned!! And regardless, he could go to his room until he had calmed down and 'thought about it'. (Isn't that a great cliche??)

All the while I was aware of Himself hovering around in the background making desperate 'Don't antagonise him' signs. Himself wants the 'Kodak Moment'. He likes everything to be Nice. This was SB's birthday after all, he shouldn't be unhappy. This infuriates me. Life is not always 'nice' and sometimes the struggle and conflict bring people closer together. They clear the air, create communication, test relationships, cement bonds. No one LIKES them, but avoiding them is incredibly destructive.

Usually, SB's tantrums (because that is what they are, he becomes irrational and beside himself) have a fairly logical trigger. Often I can see one coming and they come in several types.

The first and most frequent is the 'power struggle'. Bedtimes have been a part of this, and teeth cleaning, and the wearing of appropriate clothes (a T shirt on a 4C day).

Another type involves re-establishment of rules and boundaries when he has not been at our place in a while. This may involves leaving things everywhere, demanding things be 'done' for him and being generally crabby and prone to self pity. (Everyone hates me, you're all mean to me)

The third type involves getting Dad's attention. It can take the form of any of the above but it is usually directly related to and solved by interaction with dad.

Last night was a classic case of No1 although I just didn't see it coming.

After pulling his trump card on dad which is "I want to go back to my Mum's" and packing his bags, he stomped around demanding to be driven home. Dad, who had initially said "OK" to the 'home' request, in the hopes he would change his mind, then lost his cool and stormed out onto the balcony, slamming the door behind him.

What frightens me about these incidents is the intensity of his emotion and his inability to think rationally once he is in the downward spiral. From the initial trigger he often follows a pattern of behaviour which includes relating his 'victim' status to school as well
eg: You think I'm an idiot and everyone at school hates me too and none of friends are nice to me and they all tease me etc etc etc. If we're doing 'caring parents' rather than 'frustrated, furious parents' and we ask him about the school thing, he will wax lyrical on the injustices he has suffered. We never hear of this otherwise. (At school when I've asked the staff about this they seem mystified and assure us that he is v popular.) He also tries to put words in our mouth. We think he's stupid, we said XYZ (we did?). And then there's the inability to back off.

My own daughter had a tendency to the dramatic at times and I knew there was a certain point at which to let her storm off to her room and cool off rather than follow, even if I was offering platitudes. It was like sticking your hand in the irate lion's cage. With SB it is 10x worse.

Last night things escalated just about as far as they could go. I knew he was beyond reason as he sat behind the car in the garage shrieking at me " I know I'm an idiot because why else would I be down here crying?" I chased him back to his room and cornered him........and then............I gave in.

I know, I can't believe it but it was a gut feeling. All my high held ideals of consistency, boundaries etc went out the window. On the one hand I had consistency and on the other two devastated boys (father and son). So, I renegged. I said he could stay up until he wanted to go to bed. With a shower if he so desired. Then I said part of the deal was to sit on my knee and give me a hug.

I wrapped him in his minky (fleece blanket) and rocked him as he calmed. I told him we loved him but that he couldn't go on shouting and screaming to get what he wanted. I told him that we all get ourselves into situations we can't get out of. Even Baby Angel did that! I told him about the time she hid under the table at her 7th birthday and wouldn't even come out to blow out her candles. (I did say she tended to the dramatic) Then I suggested he say sorry to dad who was so upset.

Well, he couldn't quite manage 'sorry' but he did give him a big hug and I left the two of them to play Lego and watch DVDs until after 10.30. I ran away. I was angry at myself for giving in. I wondered how much good work I had undone; I wondered at my own hypocrisy. I went to bed upset and woke up the same way.
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But its now evening. The day has gone well. Every now and again he would appear and put his arms around me. When I asked him to do something he did it. He went to bed without protest and we said prayers together. Maybe its OK.