It will be one of “those” evenings, where my kid and I are just too much on edge to not get on each other’s nerves. Because of work, I’m up to a 2 pepcid, 1 alka seltzer and a few tums a day kind of habit. Ulcers are lovely things, you’re never completely free of them even when they heal.
Spawn is still not happy with school and ready to see the end of the year. I would attribute some of the emotional flux to be with hormones, Spawn is a bit ahead of the game for their age… I am hoping this will mean a quicker return to normalcy/sanity at the end.
I have noticed over the years that my kid also tends to have a few very distorted views of their past. I have been accused of being a butcher when it has come to splinters or loose teeth or just about anything you normally run to your parent to help with. The thing is… I’ve always had this theory about this kind of stuff.
Whenever there were shots, whenever there was a point where my kid hurting was just a fact of whatever had to go on, I let the nurses take my kid. I was the hero at the end, I was to be the rescuer, no way was I going to hold them down so my kid could get four shots in their little legs at once. Hell no.
I have always been so nervous about hurting my kid that I only once allowed a cousin to treat a rather large series of splinters in the bottom of Spawn’s foot. It was already painful. Sadly, this particular cousin apparently had the touch and technique of Woody Woodpecker on an 8-ball of coke with garden shears.
However, the prospect of me fixing their splinters seemed to just make it worse, so I had to go so far as to hold down their foot to pull them all out…then I when i was done, I just continued to hold them… and Spawn flailed, and screamed, and flailed. It took a good three minutes until they realized I hadn’t moved for a while and was staring at them wondering when they would notice I’d long finished.
Same with teeth. My best friend and Spawn’s godparent, BFH, is probably the only person who has ever managed to get Spawn to allow them to wiggle their teeth. They have a technique where they take those long fingers and wrap around the tooth and twist, lightning fast. Sadly, Spawn was quicker. They realized what was going on and jerked out of their grip, but BFH made a bigger success than I ever did. Only once has Spawn allowed me to touch one tooth, I very lightly moved it forward and backward once, just to see how far it was coming. That was it.
Even now, we had two big teeth that Spawn won’t wiggle and I have threatened with a hammer before I will pay a dentist to do it. But if anyone asked Spawn… I have done nothing but caused them pain when they have had loose teeth or splinters, I have ripped out half the hair on their head when I’ve combed it… I’m nothing but mean, all the time. Just ask.
This was the subject of the argument on the way home today. I was short fused, hungry and fed up. Spawn thankfully offered to cook, and then spent the next hour playing with the cat, so that didn’t help either. I have resigned to watching Constantine while its still free on Hulu and letting the awesome punk music they keep playing soothe my soul so I don’t have to interact. Spawn has this method of being an absolute shit until I’m in a crap mood and had enough, then they lay it on thick trying to be nice and whining that I’m ignoring them….I’m the bad guy.
But it does make me wonder… how fallible are our memories? Why does Spawn remember me in such negative ways and how much of my own memories are altered either due to an emotion, perception or my imagination rewriting things? Were things as bad/good as I remember? Did I completely rewrite something or did I just give it a tweak?
With my upbringing and Grand’s ability to alter reality to their own will, I was always intensely sensitive about being as accurate as possible, only claim what you absolutely know for sure, admit what you don’t. But I was a kid too, with the same type of rational as my kid to some degree… why would they remember something being in a way that I know to be untrue?