Churchill Can Stick It

“If you’re going through hell, keep going.” ~Winston Churchill

I’m sure you’ve heard the above quote before now.  Surely somewhere along the line when you wanted to quit whatever challenge you were facing, someone pointed you in the direction of this quote, right?  Maybe it gave you hope or fortitude, or at least a really good laugh.

I know it’s happened for me a number of times.  And, most times, I’m okay with the quote and the sentiment behind it.  Usually, it does make me chuckle and think about how I’m going to support myself to handle whatever challenge is at hand.  But today, I just want to tell Churchill where to stick that quote.

Kiddo has been back in school for almost four full weeks since holiday break ended and the road has been extremely rough.  He’s had a myriad of offenses at school this month alone, including breaking items in the classroom, spilling food and dumping trash cans, throwing items (clothes, classroom supplies, furniture) and acting out physically toward staff and students alike.  (He’s also had a few instances at church and a number at home.)

The first few weeks, we knew he was readjusting to the school schedule.  After all, he started in his new classroom/building right around Thanksgiving and had barely gotten adjusted before it was time for holiday break.  We knew he’d have some bumps along the way, as it has been a pattern of his for five years now, and we were prepared for him to have a rough week or two while settling in again this year.  We certainly didn’t expect him to have such a rough time all month, nor to learn his aggression was increasing in scope and frequency.

Most of this month, kiddo has been coming home from school, reporting all of the behavior choices he has made each day, and the communication from his teacher has supported what he had told us.  Overall, I wouldn’t call his behavior horrible, but it has been on the lower end of the scale they use to help the students gauge where they are, and communicate with us as parents how each day has played out.

Yesterday, we had a great glimmer of hope since kiddo came home with fantastic marks and the teacher’s communication began with “Wow!  What a great day!”  After so many reports of negative behavior choices, it was a breath of fresh air.  I thought he had finally settled in, and we were turning the corner for better marks overall.

Fast forward to this morning…

I was on the phone with my mom when my caller ID indicated kiddo’s school was calling.  I told my mom I needed to take the call and quickly clicked over.  This is about how the conversation went:

“Hi, Mrs. Hayes.  This is Principal T. and I’m calling because I have kiddo in my office.”

My stomach sank.  I knew it wasn’t going to be good news and (please forgive me) I thought, “Oh – please just let him be sick.  I can handle it if he’s ill, but please don’t let him have done something horrible.”

I replied, “Oh, no.  That can’t be good.”

She went on to tell me that kiddo had hit a classmate in the head with a chair this morning.  I could have thrown up right there.

I think I muttered something like, “What happened?!” and she told me it was just one of those things that happened so quickly, nobody could get to him to stop him in time.  She also told me that it seemed like he was beginning to target a particular classmate, and this was yet another aggressive act he’d taken against her.  I think that’s when my tears started rolling.

The principal continued talking, indicating we needed to set up a meeting to amend the behavior plan in kiddo’s IEP, and that he would need to stay home until that meeting took place.  And, of course, that they thought it was best that he not be in school today, so I should come get him.

Of course I agreed with all of it.  He wasn’t safe, and he was acting out in ways that – even in a classroom dedicated for special needs – they weren’t completely prepared to handle.  So I told her I’d come pick him up as soon as the messy roads would allow me to arrive.

When I collected kiddo, he was shoeless (he had thrown one at the computer in the principal’s office; they took off the other as a precaution) and looking almost pleased with himself.  One look at my face, and his expression changed quickly.  He asked what we were going to do, and I told him he was going home with me and, since I had work to do and he was missing school, I would put him to work at home.

That was enough to set off his waterworks, but they didn’t affect me.  I can’t have him thinking he can pull a nasty stunt like that and have me come get him so he can go home and watch TV.  Absolutely not!  I had kicked into what hubby calls “Commando Parenting” mode at that point.  I collected kiddo and his things, made a quick stop at the store on the way home, and put him to work doing things like sweeping the kitchen floor, picking up around the house, making beds and folding clothes.  No major child labor, mind you, but screen time was completely off-limits.

Along the way, we discussed what he had done and talked about why he shouldn’t do it.  And it’s about the hundredth time we’ve had this conversation.  Our psychologist wants us to avoid discussing any challenge too much since kiddo fixates on negative behaviors and perseverates in talking about them; but he has to know it’s not okay.

By the time kiddo was ready for bed tonight, he was angling for extra “Mom time” (I gave it to him; I figured some extra loving was a good idea) and asking for more massage.  I hugged him even tighter as we said our prayers and “night-night” routine and sent him off to sleep, praying God will help guide him into making better choices.

Back to the quote I mentioned at the beginning of this post…

I’m tired.  No – make that exhausted.  Kiddo hit the “terrible twos” somewhere around eighteen months and it hasn’t stopped since.  And, actually, his behavior has gotten more challenging with each passing year.

So I’m sorry if I don’t want to hear words like Mr. Churchill’s, indicating to keep on keeping on.  Or if I roll my eyes when I hear platitudes like, “This, too, shall pass.”  Because, you see, it isn’t and it hasn’t.  We're trying everything we can (that's an exhaustive list, worthy of a separate post) and it's still not changing his behavior for the better.  It’s getting worse.  My child is becoming harder and harder to handle.  And it scares me to the core.

We believe in non=violent options in our home, and support both the right for people to own/use weapons and common-sense regulations to make said ownership/use as safe as possible.

We don’t watch violent movies or play violent video games.  We actually have to preview Disney movies – all rated “G”, mind you – to make sure there isn’t anything kiddo can imitate.  (Cinderella, 101 Dalmations and Lady and the Tramp all proved to have something he acted out, so can no longer be viewed.)

We keep the television off almost all day, excluding an occasional show on Nick Jr., which is geared to children a few years younger than kiddo.  While said shows occasionally give me ear worms that make me want to put in plugs, at least I know he isn’t seeing any content that would give him new, negative behavior ideas.  And we certainly never watch the news with him present.  The last thing we need is to have him hearing about shootings, murders, abductions and all of the other negative stories that take up the "Top Story" slot.  He has plenty of time to learn about those things when he's older and we can give him the proper context.  (I think.  Time will tell.)

And, while we do have arguments in our home, we don’t make threats, use physical violence, or resort to character assassination with each other.  Kiddo has seen hubby and me disagree and work through resolution on a number of issues, and I think that shows him that people who don’t think the same way can find ways to work collaboratively, love each other, and build a family home.

So, when I learn that my precious kiddo did something as horrible as he did today, my heart breaks. 

I think of the little girl who got hurt, and I can barely hold back the tears.  It brings back painful memories of being bullied when I was in grade school, and I'd never wish that experience on anyone. 

I think of how her parents must feel about what was done to her, and I want to apologize over and over.  I wish I could take it back, or do something that would make it okay, but I know those options aren’t real.  I’m grateful that her injury wasn’t serious enough to require a visit to the hospital, but it doesn’t take away from what he did to her.

I think of kiddo and how this has to be affecting him as well.  I know he is the one who is aggressive, but I also know he can be so loving and sweet.  I truly believe, deep down inside, he knows what he is doing is wrong but just can't stop himself.  That has to be weighing heavily on him as well.  As a mother, it tears me up to see him acting like this when I know there's so much more to him -- intelligence, humor, creativity, imagination and compassion.  As his mother, I'd do anything to change this for him, and take away the pain that I believe it is causing him.

I think – no, I pray – “This has to get better, right?”  But I’m lying to myself if I ignore the fact that, deep down, I’m petrified it won’t.  Kiddo will be eight this year and he is taller and stronger and smarter.  And I worry that, if his behavior continues to escalate like this, hubby and I won’t be able to handle him in our home anymore.

So, please, Mr. Churchill, understand that I want this to stop.  I don’t want to keep going through this hell.  I need to get us out of here.  Where's the map?!