The man of the house

I don't really talk too much about my kids here; being more of a bitch-and-moan blog rather then a mommy blog. But, a mommy I am and the last few months with The Boy have been very interesting.

Let me start off with a little background, for those who don't know me outside of blog world. The Boy has been, how shall we say it....a 'handful' and 'all boy' his entire life. Or, if you are in the privacy of your blog which he doesn't know exists, The Boy has been very troubled and caused a lot of fucking trouble his entire life. And no, I'm not exaggerating. I used to get calls that he was punching Kindergarteners.......this was from his daycare when he was only 18 months old and it went downhill from there.

He has improved in some ways (less frequent) and gotten worse in some ways (larger kinds of trouble, ya know, the kind with police involvement) over the years. We had a really bad time of it starting summer before last and then that following school year. We started him into therapy and even did family therapy (w/out The Girl, of course).

I think the worst mistake I ever made as a mother throughout the years, was that I didn't trust my gut instinct with things. There were some things I thought should be done with The Boy, ways it should be handled, and I let myself be vetoed by The Paperweight. Also, while I knew The Paperweight was having a horrible effect on my self-esteem, I failed to conceive how big of an impact he was having on The Boy.

Now, please don't misunderstand. The Paperweight was not verbally abusive. He just, well, wasn't anything. I've seen him completely ignore The Boy for years. And when I say ignore, I mean ignore. As in, The Boy would speak and it was like The Paperweight didn't even see him standing there. Then I would usually over-compensate and baby The Boy, hence, not really making me a good authority figure in his eyes. So, two very important things happened regarding The Boy that day in January when his father left. First, mom became the sole person he was dealing with. Second, his self-esteem was given a chance to heal.

The first month was hard, of course, but it didn't last long. I became Nazi-mom and laid down the law. The TV and DVD player were removed from his room and a new weight set was put in it's place. He was informed that he would be signing up for football this year and if he didn't like it, tough shit. (he had signed up the previous year then decided he didn't want to go. The Paperweight and The Therapist told me not to force him. I thought it was big fucking mistake then and still do). I told him that his room would be kept clean at all times and if I found anything on his floor or dresser tops that wasn't supposed to be there, I'd throw it away (and I did).

I came home from work this past Wednesday to find that my son, after football practice, had swept every floor in the house and vacuumed the living room for me. This is in addition to cleaning his bedroom, which has been spotless for more then three weeks now.

These last 5 months, I've watched my son blossom. And not just in the I'm-not-a-lazy-bum-anymore way. But personally and emotionally he has thrived without his father. We talk. And not just 'how was your day' kind of stuff either, but about oh hell, everything; world issues, sex, drugs, music, movies, friends....He treats me with respect and tells me he loves me, everyday. And The Paperweight, who is still picking up The Girl for preschool, has informed me that The Boy has been cooking her breakfast in the mornings before she leaves.

It may have taken awhile, but I think The Boy is growing up. And, for the first time, I'm not worried about how he'll turn out. I think he's doing just fine. And I'm sure he'll make me proud.