Short Fuse

I’ve been having a really tough time with Troy lately. I know that I have a very short fuse because of the issues I’m having with my marriage, but I think it’s more than that. Troy has just refused to do anything that we ask him…or I guess I should say that he will only do it his way and in his timing. It all started with the homework that his teacher gave him for the summer, so that he didn’t regress in his reading, writing, or Math. I get that nobody wants to have homework over the summer, but honestly, he doesn’t know any different. This is really his first year actually having a summer. So, every day, I sit down with him and try to do the assignment. And every day is a battle.

Some days, it’s because he isn’t in the mood. Some days, it’s because he’s frustrated that he’s making mistakes. Some days, he’s just tired. But whatever the reason, it always ends with him throwing a temper tantrum, and me getting blow-the-volcano angry. Even when I try to stay calm and patient, he will goad me and goad me and goad me until I blow my top. It’s like he expects me to get angry, so he’s not going to stop until he’s proven correct.

I’ve tried doing something active and fun before, so while he’s taking a breather, we can do the homework. I’ve tried taking breaks in between, but then he doesn’t want to focus or engage after that. I’ve tried to make it fun, but he deflates that. I’ve even tried to incentivize him by telling him that we’ll play afterwards, if he’ll just focus for a little bit. Nothing works.

I don’t know what else to do. I’m worn out and exhausted. I feel like a failure as a father. I have the knowledge to teach him. I know it’s helpful, and he’ll be better off for it in the long run. But I have no idea how to impart it to him. He just fights me every step of the way.

On the flip side, I’ve been doing a lot of pushups and pull-ups. So, I might just look like Arnold Schwarzenegger by the end of the summer!

Skyrim

Troy: “Can we play that game again?”
Me: “Skyrim?”
Troy: “Yeah.”
Me: “Sure, but you’ll have to actually play it this time. There’s no point in me playing it. I’ve done it a million times.”
Troy: “Will you continue to show me how to play, because I’m not very good?”
Me: “Yes, and you’re still learning. It takes practice. You were doing really well for your first time.”
Troy: “Not against that Khajiit. He was killing me.”
Me: “Well, he’s the only one you have to fight. And believe me, there are worse things in the game than a cat man.”
Troy: “Like what?”
Me: “Giants, witches, wizards, bears, sabertooth tigers, Daedra, and dragons. But the absolute worst is the Drauger overlord.”
Troy: “What’s a Drauger overlord?”
Me: “He’s this undead mummy looking thing, and he’s really tough. He can actually shout at you and throw you backwards while also ripping your sword out of your hand.”
Troy: “I’m definitely not fighting him then.”
Me: “You will, but for now just roam around the map.”
Troy: “Ooh, something found us. The thing turned to an eyeball.”
Me: “It’s probably a deer. Yep, there it is.”
Troy: “I’m going to kill that deer.”
Me: “Why? He’s not bothering you. He just trying to have dinner.”
Troy: “I’m going to kill him. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”
Me: “Okay, go ahead.”

The Dragon Butt

Me: “So, what did you do in your camp today?”
Troy: “We made crafts.”
Me: “Oh, cool. What kind of crafts?”
Troy: “It was clay.”
Me: “I see, and what did you make out of clay?”
Troy: “I made a dragon, but…”
Me: “You made a dragon butt? That’s odd. Why didn’t you make the whole dragon? Why just the butt?”
Troy [exasperated]: “No! I didn’t make a dragon butt!”
Me: “Well, that’s what you said.”
Troy: “No, it’s not!”
Me: “Okay, fine. You didn’t make a dragon butt. So, you made a dragon without a butt? How did his tail stay on?”
Troy: “Oh my gosh! The dragon had a butt and a tail!”
Me: “I’m confused.”
Troy: “I said, ‘I made a dragon, but…’ not a dragon butt.”
Me: “That sounds exactly the same to me.”
Troy: “I wasn’t finished. It wasn’t ‘butt’ like your bottom. It was ‘but’ like when you’re putting two thoughts together.”
Me: “Oh, I see. like a conjunction?”
Troy: “Yes, like a conjunction.”
Me: “So, if a dragon butt was one thought, then what was the other one?”
Troy: “An earthworm.”
Me: “Ah, gotcha. So, you made a dragon butt and an earthworm.”
Troy: “NO! I made a dragon, but I also made an earthworm.”
Me: “Did the earthworm have a butt?”
Troy: “We’re done here!””

When You Were Fun

Today, Troy came and found me, holding his little camera. He said, “Dada, do you know what I miss?” When I replied that I didn’t, held up the camera and showed me a picture of me making a funny face. “This,” he said. “I miss when you were fun. My life isn’t fun anymore.” It was like a dagger to my heart. All I could manage to reply was, “What would you like me to do about that, Troy? It’s hard to be fun, because I’m not happy.” He asked me why I’m not happy, and I told him that he’s too young to understand. He seemed to accept that answer, as he said, “Well, I AM only six.”

He then proceeded to cheer me up as only a six-year old could. He brought me his favorite stuffed animal, his favorite drawing, and his favorite toy. I told him that while I appreciated the gesture, it was going to take more than stuff to make me happy. Stuff can’t fix my heart, and it’s my heart that’s broken.

What Troy doesn’t know is that I also miss when I was fun. I miss laughing and playing with him too. But I’m so sad right now that it’s hard for me to muster up those feelings. It’s not that I don’t still have moments of acting goofy or making him laugh. It’s just not as frequent, so he doesn’t register or remember them. Instead of playing with him all weekend long, I’m more likely to tell him to go play alone with his toys, while I go do another load of laundry or wash another sink full of dishes.

I know it’s not fair to him. He’s only a child and to him it probably feels like he lost his father. I have often said that whichever way my mood goes, so goes our household. Which is both telling and incredibly unfair to me. I’m expected to stuff my feelings inside and put on a mask, so that everyone else can have a good time. Which I had managed to do for the last five years or so. But right now, I’m so depressed and burned out that I just can’t seem to do that. All those years of feelings are overflowing and spilling out of me. I know what I should do, but I just can’t seem to do it. It’s so overwhelming. And even when I try to drag myself out and play with Troy, it only lasts a short time. My heart really isn’t in it, and it doesn’t end up being the raucously good time that he had built up in his mind.

But I don’t want to be responsible for his life not being fun anymore. I don’t want him growing up faster than he should. And I truly don’t want to miss out on getting to play and laugh with him like we used to. I miss what we used to have. So, I guess I need to figure it out and quickly.