The Boy has been really cranky lately, especially in the morning. He comes down stomping and grumping to the point I'd rather eat breakfast with Donald Trump and Jeffery Dahmer than with my son. One day, he came down and said he was up until one a.m. the night before. Another day, he said he was so tired he couldn't go to school. This was coupled with super grouchiness, not a sign of sincere illness. I told him if he didn't go to school, I would not call it in and he would have to take an unexcused absences for the day. He then got his butt out of bed and to school, screaming on his way out the door.
Tuesday night, Jack and I were looking for the Boy's computer. He got one for Christmas so he could use it for homework instead of using my computer. In January, he had a six page paper due and it took hours. (Does the average twelve year old have six pages worth of interesting thoughts? I guess the Boy's teacher thinks so.) I was glad my machine wasn't tied up for the better part of a week after school and into the weekend. After that, I was very glad we made the investment for the Boy.
We couldn't find the computer, nor could the Boy. We have a rule that computers are not allowed upstairs in kids' rooms. I found it a little incredible that the Boy did not know where his computer was and was not concerned about finding it. Mother's have this sense when their kids are totally full of bullshit. Then, the Boy's computer was found in the Lego room next to the Boy's bedroom where it was being charged. Hmmm. It wasn't there a few minutes earlier, but whatever.
Jack asked me what the Boy's password was for his machine, and the Boy gasped from upstairs when I said it. Jack checked it out. None of the content was too questionable. I wasn't a fan of the first person shooter game, even though it was more cartoonish than other games.
The big issue was the time the computer was being used. The Boy was watching Dr. Who at 10:00 p.m., 11:00 p.m., and 1:00 a.m.. No wonder he was psycho in the mornings. He was staying up all night streaming videos that we would otherwise allow him to watch during the day.
Jack and I decided not to wake the Boy about this, nor did we say anything when he came down the next morning for breakfast, remarkably chipper from probably actually getting a real night's sleep.
(The New Yorker has a hilarious article, "In Search of Forty Winks," on sleep and insomnia cures by Patricia Marx. She says that researchers think that getting nine hours of sleep every night has been slightly overrated. I think these same researchers would draw direct causation between when an otherwise reasonable twelve year old boy stays up all night watching videos and then is an asshole in the morning.)
Part of me was annoyed at the grouchy behavior in the morning, another part thought it was funny that my kid was watching Dr. Who in the middle of the night.
The next day after school, I broached the topic.
"Your father and I saw you've been streaming Dr. Who at 1:00 in the morning..." That was all I had to say before I had a half hour of self-flagellation from the Boy.
"My computer is ruining my life. I've gotten the worse grades ever since I got the computer. I hate it. I've give it back. I'll sell it. I'll smash it with a hammer. I'll pay you back for it. I'll buy a typewriter to do my papers." And so it went for thirty minutes. He was a runaway train.
I listened as he ranted, and then I told him I needed to do a major grocery shopping and needed some help getting around the store. He agreed, and we went. Once he was off the topic of his computer, he was back to being a regular human being again. He talked about his substitute bus driver and helped me pick out what to eat for dinner.
No one had done a major grocery shopping since my injury nearly two months ago. Most of the shopping has been for that night's dinner and a few lunches for the week. We were out of tortillas, lemons, milk, yogurt, granola and other basics that could cover a meal in a pinch. The Boy helped me fetch onions, bananas and hamburger buns. I let him go down the junk food aisle and get something crunchy for his lunch. He came back with a bag of Sriracha flavored popcorn. It was a small price to pay for a) getting my son to chill and b) help me with the grocery shopping.
When we got home, he carried almost all of the groceries up the stairs. He said, "You are so chill." I know he has a way to go to get over not using the computer all of the time, and I am not always chill, but it is nice to have days when difficult problems are handled without catastrophe. It probably helped that he had a good nice sleep the night before.
This blog is about the little and big thoughts that pop into my head. I once read that when Flannery O'Connor walked into a bookstore, she would want to edit her published works with a red pen. In the digital world, we have the luxury of tweaking things up after we've hit the publish button. I can be a perfectionist/procrastinator, where waiting for the ideal means little gets done. Here I will share what is not--and likely will never be--perfect.
No comments:
Post a Comment