oh Zack. what next ?

Back at our therapy sessions after a 5-week break. Ruth (our therapist) walked through a few of the holiday incidents with us. Essentially we've come to the realisation that all the tools we have for parenting - inherited from our parents - are useless. They just don't work. Growing up in South Africa, respect was something garnered from fear. Fear of physical punishment - either a hiding with the wooden spoon, or the belt. That was how the game was played...
Parent : You respect me, or I'll beat the crap out of you.
We are in the enviable position of having a child who at the age of 7 was already too strong to manhandle. I cannot physically lead him to his bedroom if he doesn't want to go. He is too heavy to pick up (when he's having a tantrum) or even scoop up (in slumber). So any kind of physical direction, eg. "It's time to go to your bedroom" (try and lead him there), or "You need to leave your brother alone" (try and separate them) or "Give me the iPad, you can't have it any more because you won't listen/ have broken our agreement" (try and wrestle it out of his hands), is in vain. A complete waste of time.
The realisation that you have a starting point of less than zero, is a very sobering and depressing moment. I had a conversation with a friend about this during the holidays and he was horrified that I felt, I have no tools. We're the same age, and he insisted that I do have tools. So, let's see what tools I have :
1. my children are not rational
...A = I cannot use logic on them. My arguing about a point is wasted.
2. my children don't listen very well, particularly to my voice
...A = using alot of words is a waste of time.
3. authority. In this present age, who has authority ?
...A = I'm a provider of love, support, meals, roof, bed, clean clothing
4. discipline and control
...A = here is where the massive black hole exists. What do I do ?
4.1 I feel desperate when Zack is physically aggressive towards Keith. I tell him not to. But what am I appealing to? His sense of obligation ? He doesn't have one. His respect of his father ? I don't think he has much. Let's "do the right thing"? Ha! what's that ? Anyone ?
...A = Keith says not to worry. He's in control. But the physicality of the 'threat' (and believe me he knows, and is growing in knowledge, that he's strong) makes me fearful. I do feel like I need to "contain" that behaviour. *Therapist would say, "let go of the need to "contain" or "control". Just be". My response, "Oh. Okay!" but all the while I'm worried about the future and the consequences.... If I let Zack continue in this manner, he'll think it's okay to act in a menacing way when he's frustrated. Menacing towards his peers, menacing towards teachers, menacing towards other authority figures. What's the end point ?
4.2 Self-regulated behaviour in society
If 1, 2 and 3 are defunct, how on earth do I get my child to be a part of society? He has to learn to self-regulate. Books don't fix a damn thing but many of the lessons I've read recently have laid down the strong statistical case for children who learn to defer gratification. It's the one indicator for "success" in later life. If my son can't control himself, he can't defer anything. That means that the statistics are stacked against him - he isn't going to be able to sort out his shit in life. I can't fix that. How depressing!
4.3 We need to function in school. You can't run amok. You can't just opt out of the academic flow. Getting homework done is excrutiating. I fucking hate every moment of the cajoling, the bribing and the begging. But, again, it's all about finding a NEW way without any of 1, 2 or 3. I need to be the entertainer. I need to be the parent who makes learning fun.

The task is enormous and onerous.

I want to sit down and weep. Alot.

Better for it

Keith and I got away for a week over the half-term holidays - we went to Italy without the children. The boys stayed in London with Tina, enjoyed children's activities, went to a football camp, ate at MacDonalds (we never go) and had a blast.
People's responses to the news that we were going to be away for more than a few nights were really revealing. Some were completely aghast at the idea, others said, "Next time, go for 2 weeks".
On our return, the kids punished us for abandoning them - their behaviour was filled with anger and frustration, but we're in a normal routine again, and they both seem happy and secure.
I'm a better parent for a bit of space and change of scenery. It had enormous benefits, and I'll consider it again for next year - tho' next year we'll probably take the kids with us AND a grandparent if we can cajole one of them to the UK (sigh).

drunk and disorderly

So it all came to a head last week Monday. After four sessions of "settling in" at a North London Montessori nursery nearby, I took Calvin to his first day. Dropped him off at 1:30pm and when I turned up to collect him at 4:55pm there was this strange old crone sitting in the kid's play room. She looked awful, gaunt and sallow. She had grey blotches under her eyes and across her nose. I really wasn't sure who she was or why she had all the staff sitting in a circle around her. Her skirt was hoiked up, and her legs akimbo. A part of me was already scrambling through the ID parade... she was probably the owner. Then she spoke and I was right, it was the owner who'd I'd only spoken to on the phone. She was going on and on about ofsted and the parents, and how she couldn't do enough for them. I said, "Excuse me?" but I couldn't understand what she was saying. I was looking around the room, from face to face, at each member of staff. All I got was blank stares or averted eyes.
In the meantime Calvin had seen me, stood up and was walking towards me. His face said scared and unhappy. I grabbed him and slung him onto my hip. By now I'd caught one of the girls (who I'd chatted to the previous week) rolling her eyes. Yup, I could smell the booze at 2metres. So I guessed A + B = blotto.

The end of it all : I've pulled Calvin out of the nursery. He's going to go to Zack's full-day nursery from mid-September.

No point in being stupid about this. Two weeks ago my gut feel was "there is something weird here with the staff". Yes, the peer pressure amongst fellow North London mummies was that Calvin should only attend a half-day session BUT I cannot have my child in THAT nursery. Zack's little nursery - Greygates - is just lovely. The staff turnover is neglible and they are genuinely affectionate, well trained, career child-carers. I don't have a qualm about sending him there other than the long hours. I was only trying to be "open minded" by going for the Montessori. It failed. There you go. Now we're onto plan B, which really should have been plan A.