Back to the Grindstone

Back to the grindstone. Literally. I got put through the grinder yesterday and today and I don't think there is much left to grind. I'm a bone skeleton picked dry by circling vultures. Christmas vacation had its ups and downs but was mostly very positive. But back to the grindstone for me managing Mr. Preston and Preston pushing me to see if he can get me to break. Have I mentioned yet that kids with this disorder are intentional 'button-pushers' because it stimulates their brain? Not good news.


My biggest fear is that despite no meat left to be picked after Preston's 'ring in the New Year grinding', Preston will find those small tidbits that are barely there and finish me off. I know I sound so dramatic; I get that from my mother. (insert picture of me raising my glass 'Gulfstream Restaurant Waiter Guy' style). Yesterday, on the initial grind, I was the picture of patience. It was amazing - I was in a different place.

If I was a bearded man, this is what I would have looked like. I could have handled anything. I was amazed with my strength. Preston came home pleasant enough but refused to do his homework. I remained calm (see picture). I offered him choices, he name-called, sassed, taunted, made noises in my general direction, pitched fits, and tried to offer ME choices that were really just demands. I don't negotiate with terrorists - I mean SUPER MEAN kids. Eventually, after about round nine or ten, he tagged me in to his ring and some work got done. That was an absolutely painful experience though - the moaning and groaning and growling and "I give up!" and "I'm so stupid!" tyrades. I should start calling him Chewbacca because that is what he sounded like through the whole ordeal. Yes, an ordeal like having to go the DMV and renewing your license.

 He did good at honoring the 'dark side of the force' (the irony - he was Darth Vader for Halloween this year) and I did well to not give in. That was yesterday. Today he pushed my buttons mercilessly and I short-circuited. I was un-yielding. I told him that back-talking, taunting, homework avoidance and general nastiess was not going to be tolerated with the least degree of allowance. As much as I wish life was all about playing and happiness and gumdrops, it ain't! There is no choice in doing homework - it gets done. If not, all toys will be removed from his room. I'm sure it sounds harsh but a time-out for him for not doing homework is exactly what he wants and he can't stick around me to be nasty.

I had this great inspiring blog post all made up in my mind last night and after today I have no idea what the hell it was. Regarding Mr. Preston, he may or may not shape-up. I pray that he will. In the end I've just got to be able to say that I hung in there and gave it eveything I had. Despite the days that I wanted to give-up, I kept going. I am a tough chick. I can do this. I still really only can control myself. I am the master of my destiny. I can't control other people or situations that come my way but I control how I react. I've been hammering Preston about choices - it takes more enery to be sad and angry than it does to be happy and he does have the CHOICE to be happy. He does have the choice to be nice. Hopefully some day that little frontal lobe of his will catch-up and he will truly understand that concept. Until then, do or do not. There is no try. Yoda said that. He's a smart little puppet.