Call me crazy…

I have, from time to time, toyed with the idea of regretting my decision to be a stay-at-home mother, a professional mother, a mother for the ages.  This hypothetical regret is so very fleeting, and so very banal that it doesn’t even sit in the back of my mind.  If you ask me, I will tell you immediately and unequivocally that I have loved being a mother, and that I consider my dedication to my children, the most important thing I’ve ever done…

I actually no longer feel that way.  I feel like I made a terrible decision, and I failed miserably.  And, no, this is not a flight of whimsy, a “oh, poor pitiful me” moment.  This is a resounding call from deep in my gut.  This is like a stone bouncing violently against the walls of a deep and wide metal container…clank, clank, clank…

This is not about J.  I fail J every single day, and I know it.  I am at peace with this because parenting an individual in the Spectrum, as I’ve mentioned many times before, very much like Sisyphus and his rolling boulder.  More often than not, I am run over by the boulder, recover, chase after it, and then start up again.  As they say out there: it is what it is.

My issue is with TGG.  Our issue.  We are all pretty much overwhelmed.  Dada and I spend so much time trying to figure out TGG that we have realized it’s taking time away from J.  That, in of itself, is a clear indication that something’s gotta give.

We have been, as far as parents go, far from perfect.  We’ve tried to be encouraging, understanding, supportive, loving, caring, patient, all while trying to foster in our children a sense of self and the proper environment for maturing at the proper pace.  I’ve made Halloween and theater costumes; I’ve not missed a single performance, parent-teacher conference, doctor’s appointment, summons to the principal’s office.  I’ve kissed boo-boos, dried tears, said “buck up and try again” when needed.  I have been very responsible as a parent; I’ve taken this whole process seriously.  I married a man who takes it seriously, too, and if we have been stern from time to time it’s because we have had to be.  We set curfews; we grounded people (yes, even J…not that it worked particularly well,) and canceled privileges.  We also struck a balance between the practical things and the fun things.  We’ve always encouraged our kids to talk to us…even if we don’t like what they have to say (or sign.)

In a very broad sense, TGG has been an awesome kid.  He never really got into trouble with the law, although some neighbors once called the cops to say he had thrown an egg at them.  The laws of physics proved to the cop the improbability of that having happened.  Another time, some friends who were in the car with him pointed a BB gun at other vehicles, and the cops were called.  They were quickly caught…because TGG drives like a little old lady.  The other kids, who had previous legal issues pending, were carted off, and TGG and J (who had just been picked up at school) were sent home with a stern warning.  There were several instances of underage drinking that we were not particularly pleased about, and we certainly didn’t go easy on him then.  The cure for that was pretty much turning 21.  There was the pot smoking we never caught him doing, but being former young people we clearly recognized, and that, too, went away.

The main problem with TGG is that he hardly ever finishes anything.  What he finishes, he finishes with the least amount of effort possible, and with the least stellar results imaginable.  TGG barely graduated from high school; the class that almost sank him?  BAKING!  TGG almost finished his EMT certification course.  He choked on the next to last test…and that was the second time around taking the course.  (When I say choked, seriously, he was totally overconfident and underprepared for the test…and once you failed a test for a module, you were out like yesterday’s leftover fish.)  He did finish his Medical Assistant certification course, and he passed his test, but…his grades dropped vertiginously once he “fell in love.”  That romance lasted six weeks and resulted in one grandchild…

We didn’t kill him when we found out, via misdirected text, that he was about to become a father.  We were understanding.  We were caring.  We were patient.  We were supportive.

TGG loves his kid.  His son, though, is not a priority, and -worse yet- he’s not a driving force in TGG’s life.  TGG hasn’t yet understood that having a child changes your life, and that you have to start thinking like a grown-up and make difficult decisions.  TGG still wants to have his cake and eat it, too…

When TGG decided to go back to school to start working towards a degree in Nursing, he was motivated, and we were thrilled.  We paid for his classes and books; we told him not to worry about rent or household expenses so that he could switch to a job that would accommodate his class schedule without putting too much strain on his finances.  We helped him reorganize his room, and we made sure he had the clothes he needed for his new job at Target.  During the time when he wasn’t yet getting paid, we made sure he had gas money.  We made sure there was dinner served for him when he got home.  We took over all the things he used to do with TGG.

And then…

He has fallen in love.  Every single person in the planet deserves to have someone who loves them, and who they can love.  Every single person deserves happiness.  Good judgment often flies out the window when it comes to these things, and it certainly has in this particular case.

TGG has “fallen in love” (and other things) with a very young single mother of two.  When he’s not at work or at school, all he lives and breathes is this person.  She is the center of the universe because she is “patient” and “nice.”  We, on the other hand, are demanding and he doesn’t know how to please us.  We explain to him, ad nauseam, that we want him to study, to work on getting a decent footing before he starts running into the future like a desperate linebacker during the Super Bowl…and without a helmet.  But he’s in love.  He’s getting two Ds, one C and an A (in very basic classes, mind you…this isn’t even Nursing coursework,) and he doesn’t know why this is something we might be worried about.  He had to take the entrance exam to the Nursing program…he dragged his ass for months, and then he passed everything but the Science.

He doesn’t understand what we “want.”  He doesn’t know what he could “do” to make us stop worrying.  I’ve stated my position clearly: it’s time for him to move out, face the world as it is when your parents aren’t there to catch you when you fall, and learn a little bit about what it takes to be what we are: grown-ups.  He thinks, bless his soul, that I’m bluffing.  The fact of the matter, and hate me if you must, is that I am NOT bluffing, and I am ready for my partially-empty nest and a little more peace of mind.  Rather, I am ready to worry about him from a distance, without actually seeing the way in which he thinks everything will work out just right if he just lets things happen.

Am I wrong?  Am I a bad parent?  Am I being mean?  Am I too old-fashioned?  Am I positively medieval?  Is it ridiculous of me to wonder how two twenty-somethings with children from failed relationships can jump so very quickly into a potentially child-inducing situation?

This affects J.  I know it shouldn’t, but it does.  J loves his brother.  J misses his brother.  His brother has barely given him a second thought in the past few months.  TGG spends more time with the girlfriend and her children than he does with his own kid.  Am I stupid to think that this is just not right???  Didn’t he learn from the heartache his father caused him with similar behavior and attitudes?

Our suspicion that he has Asperger’s is being solidified with each passing day.  There is a disconnect there.  There is a lack of emotion.  HE can’t seem to read the signs that we so clearly put out…so very clearly…oh, so so clearly.  He’s just baffled by our frustration and disappointment and concern.  Last night I blew up and told him I’m done, and I mean it…I can’t risk a stroke like my mother had at 56 and my brother had at 55.  I have J to think of, and TGG is, after all, a full-fledged adult…

Any thoughts?????

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