I guess my point being, you can do everything to the best of your ability but your kids can still pitch a fit and you end up at opposite corners. Just don't let those things run on too long. In my case even a few months was too long.
To all those asking if I am okay - No. No, I'm not. I had severe post-natal depression after the first one and have never really regained full functionality. However, there's no immediate cause for alarm because a.) I've been not-okay for eleven years now and managed not to do myself in, b.) I am always a special kind of level-nine bananas by the time the last couple of weeks of summer school holidays roll around, and c.) I am less not-okay than I was when they were non-verbal. I may not exactly relish being complained at, shouted at, and eye-rolled at but it's a HUGE fucking improvement on the years when they just stood there and screamed whenever something was going on which didn't precisely suit them. To this day, if I'm in a supermarket queue or similar, and a toddler starts up some screaming, both my shoulders jump up, my jaw clenches, and my neck goes rock hard in some kind of muscle memory, and I have to try and remember my breathing exercises, which is difficult, because my mind has already scattered to the four winds in sheer panic. Which sounds melodramatic, I know. But it's pretty much true.
Anoesis, I feel for you! I remember when mine used to scream, especially in 'losing practice' which was a running race from nursery back to the car, which they lost about half the time. Then they'd sit in the car and scream while I sat on the grass and waited for them to stop. Elder (14) mentioned losing practice the other day when talking about something at school which had not gone according to plan. I may have made a (non-) career out of being good at losing, and now I've passed it on!
(We're different, in that I used to find the sound of other people's kids screaming, quite relaxing - it was a sound I had no responsibility for, and needed to do nothing about!).
I have memories of being mightily irritated by the sounds of squalling youngsters in public places. But after having my own wailing horrors, and the visceral fear and rage juggled in time with it (depending on circumstance), my reaction to other people's kids being loud is very different now. My reaction is to think "sounds of sadness" and have an impulse to reassure the parent. And otherwise give no fucks at all.
What @RooK said. Having gone through toddlerdom of my own sprogs, I have nothing but sympathy for parents who are doing all they can. My first thought is, "Naptime for somebody!" and a desire to tell the parents it's okay, I understand, they're not bad parents.
I miss her so much. We fell out before she passed. I wish we had had the time to hammer out our differences but I guess that will have to wait for another incarnation. I would be willing to come back just for that.
AFF
I have been reading through this thread from the start, with a mixture of smiles, tears and winces along the way and was looking forward to saying as much when I reached the end, but this post of yours has required an extra tissue for the tears.
To all those asking if I am okay - No. No, I'm not. I had severe post-natal depression after the first one and have never really regained full functionality. However, there's no immediate cause for alarm because a.) I've been not-okay for eleven years now and managed not to do myself in, b.) I am always a special kind of level-nine bananas by the time the last couple of weeks of summer school holidays roll around, and c.) I am less not-okay than I was when they were non-verbal. I may not exactly relish being complained at, shouted at, and eye-rolled at but it's a HUGE fucking improvement on the years when they just stood there and screamed whenever something was going on which didn't precisely suit them. To this day, if I'm in a supermarket queue or similar, and a toddler starts up some screaming, both my shoulders jump up, my jaw clenches, and my neck goes rock hard in some kind of muscle memory, and I have to try and remember my breathing exercises, which is difficult, because my mind has already scattered to the four winds in sheer panic. Which sounds melodramatic, I know. But it's pretty much true.
I’m sorry you’re not ok, but glad you’re more ok than before.
Parenting in not okness states various sucks, mightily. I offer solidarity and best wishes from an internet random.
I hear you on the muscle memory toddler meltdown thing too. On good days, I smile at both toddler and parent, and try to say reassuring things to said parent. This is another one of those things which has generally got better with time. Which reminds me, the other day, I missed having a baby. It’s the first time it’s ever happened. Weird.
This may not be appropriate @anoesis, as I've never had kids. However I have had depression for years, sometimes badly. A cliche that often gets wheeled out is, "That which does not kill you makes you stronger". I can remember screaming at those words, "No it doesn't! It can tear you up and leave you bleeding."
This may not be appropriate @anoesis, as I've never had kids. However I have had depression for years, sometimes badly. A cliche that often gets wheeled out is, "That which does not kill you makes you stronger". I can remember screaming at those words, "No it doesn't! It can tear you up and leave you bleeding."
This may not be appropriate @anoesis, as I've never had kids. However I have had depression for years, sometimes badly. A cliche that often gets wheeled out is, "That which does not kill you makes you stronger". I can remember screaming at those words, "No it doesn't! It can tear you up and leave you bleeding."
I prefer "what doesn't kill you can only cripple you for life".
This may not be appropriate @anoesis, as I've never had kids. However I have had depression for years, sometimes badly. A cliche that often gets wheeled out is, "That which does not kill you makes you stronger". I can remember screaming at those words, "No it doesn't! It can tear you up and leave you bleeding."
This may not be appropriate @anoesis, as I've never had kids. However I have had depression for years, sometimes badly. A cliche that often gets wheeled out is, "That which does not kill you makes you stronger". I can remember screaming at those words, "No it doesn't! It can tear you up and leave you bleeding."
"That which does not kill you gives you a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms and a really dark sense of humour." IME.
Or just leaves you unable to walk, or talk, or leave the house, depending on what it was that didn't kill you. I wonder if the fuckwits who say this have tried it on people with long term care needs after strokes, falls, illnesses...
(A) It is Nietzsche. (B) No, he was not. (Say I as an admirer.) (C) Almost anytime Nietzsche is quoted it's (a) out of context, and (b) by someone who has not read Nietzsche or (c) if not (b) misunderstands him. Time to groom my moustache.
...the years when they just stood there and screamed whenever something was going on which didn't precisely suit them.
I'm still right at the start of those years. And he can be one willful hatchling of a bitch when he gets the mood on (which, blessedly, isn't that often).
To this day, if I'm in a supermarket queue or similar, and a toddler starts up some screaming, both my shoulders jump up, my jaw clenches, and my neck goes rock hard in some kind of muscle memory, and I have to try and remember my breathing exercises, which is difficult, because my mind has already scattered to the four winds in sheer panic. Which sounds melodramatic, I know. But it's pretty much true.
(A) It is Nietzsche. (B) No, he was not. (Say I as an admirer.) (C) Almost anytime Nietzsche is quoted it's (a) out of context, and (b) by someone who has not read Nietzsche or (c) if not (b) misunderstands him. Time to groom my moustache.
As someone who knows practically nothing about Nietzsche, I'd be fascinated to hear you explain what he was getting at with those words.
(A) It is Nietzsche. (B) No, he was not. (Say I as an admirer.) (C) Almost anytime Nietzsche is quoted it's (a) out of context, and (b) by someone who has not read Nietzsche or (c) if not (b) misunderstands him. Time to groom my moustache.
My understanding is that the quote was actually ironic and making fun of people who think something like “what doesn’t kill you makes you stroner” genuinely, as it’s obviously a ridiculous sentiment.
"That which does not kill me gives me a set of unhealthy coping skills and a gallows sense of humor."
I read Nietzsche and IMO there is no explaining him, he does not follow any system of logic. He simply sees things how he sees them and you either live in his universe or you don't. Trying to import his ideas into your own is bound to have mixed results.
This may not be appropriate @anoesis, as I've never had kids. However I have had depression for years, sometimes badly. A cliche that often gets wheeled out is, "That which does not kill you makes you stronger". I can remember screaming at those words, "No it doesn't! It can tear you up and leave you bleeding."
Yep. I sure don't feel like I'm 'building character' or 'becoming a bigger person' here. But the thing about cliches is that people actively search for evidence to back them up, and discount any examples that appear contrary. Like the folk who say 'There were no fat people came out of Belsen' - not stopping to consider that anyone who went in thin never came out at all...
I'm a fan of Nietzsche myself - not that I particularly liked him as a person, more as I appreciate the insights he was able to share. To understand that there are people who feel that way is to be forewarned and forearmed about their possible reactions.
What is hard to explain to most people is the darkness of his humour and the profound irony he expressed. Straight readings of his work without context are invariably more about the person doing the quoting than Nietzsche's original intent. All of which is made harder to parse by the fact that his works were largely curated by his nazi sister.
What is hilarious, as a parent, is how readily the little monsters absorb gobbet-sized doses of his philosophies. It takes days to balance one amusing off-the-cuff Nietzschean comment in their earshot.
"That which does not kill me gives me a set of unhealthy coping skills and a gallows sense of humor."
I read Nietzsche and IMO there is no explaining him, he does not follow any system of logic. He simply sees things how he sees them and you either live in his universe or you don't. Trying to import his ideas into your own is bound to have mixed results.
AFF
That is interesting. I have quite often thought over the years, hearing about Nietsche, that I think that is one I really ought to read, but thanks to this post of yours, I have gratefully relieved myself of the idea that I might do so!
[P.S. Thank you for pm.)
I don't want to derail this thread about the monsters with a discussion of Uncle Fritz. I don't have time at this very moment, but a few of the above comments were interesting, so I'll begin a Nietzsche thread in Purgatory (with luck, tomorrow - today is too busy, and I'll be too worn out this evening) to follow up.
On the monsters... one of my godsons is the most loving, caring, and fun kids (and rather a ham) you could imagine. But, saints preserve us, his rages are pyroclastic. His mother and younger brother are the chief objects. It's all a very strange dynamic to observe. I can't reconcile the poles, but I try. I also have the immense luxury of being in a different domicile a 20 minute walk away.
Don't ever try to intervene indirectly on behalf of another family member (adult child). It ought be obvious, confound it, but to some it seemingly isn't. That's all. It was a bad week.
What is hilarious, as a parent, is how readily the little monsters absorb gobbet-sized doses of his philosophies. It takes days to balance one amusing off-the-cuff Nietzschean comment in their earshot.
J.K.Rowling seems to touch on N. (at least in his Nazi interpretation) with the character of Voldemort - my kids picked that up pretty quick when reading Nietzsche spoofs on 'Existential Comics'. But when asked to fill in a form recently containing the Q. 'Why do you want to be a prefect', my elder drew the line at my suggested A. 'Because there is only Power, and those too weak to seek it'.
"That which does not kill me gives me a set of unhealthy coping skills and a gallows sense of humor." ...
This is true.
Otherwise, the original quote is right up there with "God doesn't give us more than we can handle," which is both theologically unsound and a misquotation of 1 Corinthians 10:13. God gives us more than we can handle all the time, especially when we get saddled with fatal diseases. It's up to us to cope with it. Prayer helps.
I don't want to derail this thread about the monsters with a discussion of Uncle Fritz. I don't have time at this very moment, but a few of the above comments were interesting, so I'll begin a Nietzsche thread in Purgatory (with luck, tomorrow - today is too busy, and I'll be too worn out this evening) to follow up.
On the monsters... one of my godsons is the most loving, caring, and fun kids (and rather a ham) you could imagine. But, saints preserve us, his rages are pyroclastic. His mother and younger brother are the chief objects. It's all a very strange dynamic to observe. I can't reconcile the poles, but I try. I also have the immense luxury of being in a different domicile a 20 minute walk away.
That depends how old he is.
Sensitive, kind children often feel things deeply and go into rages because they can’t deal with those feelings. But they begin to learn to cope with them at the age of four when they are able to articulate how they are feeling. Of course it takes much longer for inarticulate children.
We had one reasonably nice child (though she’s had her moments...) and decided to quit while we were ahead.
This was partly because an old friend of mine had an absolutely delightful problem-free first child, followed by one who was a complete nightmare from birth onwards and forever after. Much as I like Boogie’s list, there’s no fail-safe magic formula, and I’m well aware we were partly just lucky with our daughter. If you can manage good parenting skills you have a better chance of enjoying living with your children, but some of them are just hard work whatever you do.
I did not much care for them as babies. Non verbal, crying, nothing I could see was wrong. No sleep for me no comfort for them. Then school age and they would fight with each other and try to draw me into their side. Then the teen years. I loved them. Something wrong they had words, they could talk about it. They had their own friends no need to fight with each other. They had fun teen friends who hung around our house. They are now adult nice human beings. I am now enjoying my two teen age grandchildren and find them a lot more fun then when they were little.
My children (2 out of 3 of them, at any rate) are ghastly today.
It being the school hols, in my infinite wisdom I thought “Let’s go to the big city and visit a museum!” Despite their age range, and ability to wind each other up par excellence, museums generally work well. We can divide and conquer, I’ll take Child C, and the bigger ones can go and do their own thing.
Dear sweet Jesus on a bicycle. How wrong was I.
Child A was being mopey teenager on a scale never before seen anywhere, to be fair she is reasonably recently heartbroken, and then had a further row via text with the ex this afternoon. Child C was endlessly demanding, not listening, and winding up Child A as much as possible. Poor Child B did her best to remain cheerful and not to be a nuisance (making me wonder if she’s heading for an anxiety disorder later in life).
Oh and I had a migraine to boot.
We are now home and dinner is on, but Oh God. There is non stop wailing from Child A. I have done loving support for ages, but I am all out of reserves now.
I am never taking them anywhere, ever again. In future holidays, they can read improving books and do chores at home. I will work, and MrJt9 can take leave and look after the horrors.
Oh, Jemima! You poor thing. You just never can tell what will work and what won't, can you?
Fortunately for my sanity, the summer school holidays are recently over (the teachers are well rested and brimming with enthusiasm and ideas, and had organised an entire week of outside activities). Out of a sense of obligation, I went as a parent help on one of the field trips. After all, I'm not in paid employment, and these activities cannot happen if folk don't step up to help. It was to a bird sanctuary. I can confirm that nowhere is a sanctuary if it's currently being overrun by a hundred seven and eight year-old children. Also, it rained. A lot. And there were mosquitos. A lot of them. In the evening, there was wine. Quite a lot of it.
Anoesis as a former teacher I was always grateful to the parents who were able to come along and help on school trips. I remember a visit to Wellington Zoo when one parent had to cancel out at the last moment so my mum filled in. I knew she was very capable with children so she got a particularly difficult one whom she coped with better than I ever could.
I can confirm that nowhere is a sanctuary if it's currently being overrun by a hundred seven and eight year-old children.
This really made me chuckle, thank you. Thanks for the good wishes. Things are marginally calmer this morning. (And thanks are given as ever, for the inventor of the kick ass migraine pills).
As the stay-at-home parent and part-time teaching assistant (and one of the very few males who could step into the breach), I ended up on far too many school trips with terrible children. Mostly, it was fine, because they weren't mine.
On the other hand, the first Monday of the new term would see me curled up in a big chair with a huge book and an endless supply of tea. I was pretty much done with my own kids by that point.
I do not have kids. I stand by my life choices. Good luck to all those who do.
On school trips, I still have a vivid memory of the one aged around 6 when we visited a wildlife place and I nearly died of embarrassment because OF COURSE the kid who fell in the pond dipping pond was in my mum's group. We fished her out. Still know her on FB in fact...
I will be quite glad when Dragonlet 1 goes back to school next week. He is very tactile, not always in a good way, and not very good at listening to the word 'No'. When he's been engaged with things over the last week he's been good company, but we missed doing something fun today as he was refusing to co-operate at home.
It was our school mid-term last weekend. I too thought a big city museum would be a splendid idea.
I took my dinosaur-daft godson to Edinburgh to see the Tyrannosaurus exhibition, and my son joined us there. The journey down to Edinburgh was sub-optimal; the restriction on high sided vehicles during Storm Dennis meant that the posh bus I'd booked seats on was replaced with a bog standard bus with no charging points, no wi-fi , no tables and no hot drinks. So we arrived in Edinburgh with my godson restive whilst I was in dire need of caffeine.
Son and godson were mucking about at lunch; I was wondering what had possessed me to choose to spend my Monday with teenagers. And then I remembered. My son is not, in fact, a teenager, but is, in fact, a grown man of 25.
My 26 year olds are fine until they come in having lost at football: cue door slamming, referee damning, and then blaming each other for missed shots/ tackles, etc. Tiresome that they're too old to be told off
It has often struck me that there are many situations that could be hilarious as a sitcom, kept safely behind the glass of the telly, but which are very trying in real life. What @TheOrganist describes seems like a good example.
It has often struck me that there are many situations that could be hilarious as a sitcom, kept safely behind the glass of the telly, but which are very trying in real life. What @TheOrganist describes seems like a good example.
Essence of comedy: we laugh because it's not us on the banana peel.
This may not be appropriate @anoesis, as I've never had kids. However I have had depression for years, sometimes badly. A cliche that often gets wheeled out is, "That which does not kill you makes you stronger". I can remember screaming at those words, "No it doesn't! It can tear you up and leave you bleeding."
For me it's "God never gives you a burden heavier than you can bear" - or words to that effect. I want to stand up and scream "What about people who have mental breakdowns due to stress?"
This may not be appropriate @anoesis, as I've never had kids. However I have had depression for years, sometimes badly. A cliche that often gets wheeled out is, "That which does not kill you makes you stronger". I can remember screaming at those words, "No it doesn't! It can tear you up and leave you bleeding."
For me it's "God never gives you a burden heavier than you can bear" - or words to that effect. I want to stand up and scream "What about people who have mental breakdowns due to stress?"
Often spouted by the same fuckwits, I would strongly imagine. People who can go through life without apparently once seeing the bleedin' obvious.
Comments
AFF
(We're different, in that I used to find the sound of other people's kids screaming, quite relaxing - it was a sound I had no responsibility for, and needed to do nothing about!).
Right, on to page 3 of this topic.
I’m sorry you’re not ok, but glad you’re more ok than before.
Parenting in not okness states various sucks, mightily. I offer solidarity and best wishes from an internet random.
I hear you on the muscle memory toddler meltdown thing too. On good days, I smile at both toddler and parent, and try to say reassuring things to said parent. This is another one of those things which has generally got better with time. Which reminds me, the other day, I missed having a baby. It’s the first time it’s ever happened. Weird.
People who trot that out need flogging.
I prefer "what doesn't kill you can only cripple you for life".
And then asked if they feel stronger.
Quite.
Or just leaves you unable to walk, or talk, or leave the house, depending on what it was that didn't kill you. I wonder if the fuckwits who say this have tried it on people with long term care needs after strokes, falls, illnesses...
I'm still right at the start of those years. And he can be one willful hatchling of a bitch when he gets the mood on (which, blessedly, isn't that often).
I grok that.
As someone who knows practically nothing about Nietzsche, I'd be fascinated to hear you explain what he was getting at with those words.
My understanding is that the quote was actually ironic and making fun of people who think something like “what doesn’t kill you makes you stroner” genuinely, as it’s obviously a ridiculous sentiment.
"That which does not kill me gives me a set of unhealthy coping skills and a gallows sense of humor."
I read Nietzsche and IMO there is no explaining him, he does not follow any system of logic. He simply sees things how he sees them and you either live in his universe or you don't. Trying to import his ideas into your own is bound to have mixed results.
AFF
What is hard to explain to most people is the darkness of his humour and the profound irony he expressed. Straight readings of his work without context are invariably more about the person doing the quoting than Nietzsche's original intent. All of which is made harder to parse by the fact that his works were largely curated by his nazi sister.
What is hilarious, as a parent, is how readily the little monsters absorb gobbet-sized doses of his philosophies. It takes days to balance one amusing off-the-cuff Nietzschean comment in their earshot.
[P.S. Thank you for pm.)
On the monsters... one of my godsons is the most loving, caring, and fun kids (and rather a ham) you could imagine. But, saints preserve us, his rages are pyroclastic. His mother and younger brother are the chief objects. It's all a very strange dynamic to observe. I can't reconcile the poles, but I try. I also have the immense luxury of being in a different domicile a 20 minute walk away.
J.K.Rowling seems to touch on N. (at least in his Nazi interpretation) with the character of Voldemort - my kids picked that up pretty quick when reading Nietzsche spoofs on 'Existential Comics'. But when asked to fill in a form recently containing the Q. 'Why do you want to be a prefect', my elder drew the line at my suggested A. 'Because there is only Power, and those too weak to seek it'.
Otherwise, the original quote is right up there with "God doesn't give us more than we can handle," which is both theologically unsound and a misquotation of 1 Corinthians 10:13. God gives us more than we can handle all the time, especially when we get saddled with fatal diseases. It's up to us to cope with it. Prayer helps.
That depends how old he is.
Sensitive, kind children often feel things deeply and go into rages because they can’t deal with those feelings. But they begin to learn to cope with them at the age of four when they are able to articulate how they are feeling. Of course it takes much longer for inarticulate children.
This was partly because an old friend of mine had an absolutely delightful problem-free first child, followed by one who was a complete nightmare from birth onwards and forever after. Much as I like Boogie’s list, there’s no fail-safe magic formula, and I’m well aware we were partly just lucky with our daughter. If you can manage good parenting skills you have a better chance of enjoying living with your children, but some of them are just hard work whatever you do.
It being the school hols, in my infinite wisdom I thought “Let’s go to the big city and visit a museum!” Despite their age range, and ability to wind each other up par excellence, museums generally work well. We can divide and conquer, I’ll take Child C, and the bigger ones can go and do their own thing.
Dear sweet Jesus on a bicycle. How wrong was I.
Child A was being mopey teenager on a scale never before seen anywhere, to be fair she is reasonably recently heartbroken, and then had a further row via text with the ex this afternoon. Child C was endlessly demanding, not listening, and winding up Child A as much as possible. Poor Child B did her best to remain cheerful and not to be a nuisance (making me wonder if she’s heading for an anxiety disorder later in life).
Oh and I had a migraine to boot.
We are now home and dinner is on, but Oh God. There is non stop wailing from Child A. I have done loving support for ages, but I am all out of reserves now.
I am never taking them anywhere, ever again. In future holidays, they can read improving books and do chores at home. I will work, and MrJt9 can take leave and look after the horrors.
Fortunately for my sanity, the summer school holidays are recently over (the teachers are well rested and brimming with enthusiasm and ideas, and had organised an entire week of outside activities). Out of a sense of obligation, I went as a parent help on one of the field trips. After all, I'm not in paid employment, and these activities cannot happen if folk don't step up to help. It was to a bird sanctuary. I can confirm that nowhere is a sanctuary if it's currently being overrun by a hundred seven and eight year-old children. Also, it rained. A lot. And there were mosquitos. A lot of them. In the evening, there was wine. Quite a lot of it.
All the best, anyhow...
This really made me chuckle, thank you. Thanks for the good wishes. Things are marginally calmer this morning. (And thanks are given as ever, for the inventor of the kick ass migraine pills).
On the other hand, the first Monday of the new term would see me curled up in a big chair with a huge book and an endless supply of tea. I was pretty much done with my own kids by that point.
On school trips, I still have a vivid memory of the one aged around 6 when we visited a wildlife place and I nearly died of embarrassment because OF COURSE the kid who fell in the pond dipping pond was in my mum's group. We fished her out. Still know her on FB in fact...
It was our school mid-term last weekend. I too thought a big city museum would be a splendid idea.
I took my dinosaur-daft godson to Edinburgh to see the Tyrannosaurus exhibition, and my son joined us there. The journey down to Edinburgh was sub-optimal; the restriction on high sided vehicles during Storm Dennis meant that the posh bus I'd booked seats on was replaced with a bog standard bus with no charging points, no wi-fi , no tables and no hot drinks. So we arrived in Edinburgh with my godson restive whilst I was in dire need of caffeine.
Son and godson were mucking about at lunch; I was wondering what had possessed me to choose to spend my Monday with teenagers. And then I remembered. My son is not, in fact, a teenager, but is, in fact, a grown man of 25.
I make the same mistake with my nephew and neice. They're 29 and 33....
Essence of comedy: we laugh because it's not us on the banana peel.
For me it's "God never gives you a burden heavier than you can bear" - or words to that effect. I want to stand up and scream "What about people who have mental breakdowns due to stress?"
Often spouted by the same fuckwits, I would strongly imagine. People who can go through life without apparently once seeing the bleedin' obvious.