Todd's doing dishes. Everyone knows it. I'm sitting in the livingroom trying to get a little work done on my writing job, but I can't concentrate. What amazes me is how loudly he can do dishes and not leave them shattered and chipped. Of course I haven't ventured in there to see, because I feel "the mood" so strongly out here, I can only imagine how stifling it is in the kitchen.
The volume speaks volumes . . . . He shouldn't have to do this house work after a hard day of real work (yes, he actually did put in a pretty full day of work today.) The thing is, he didn't have to do this. Our son, Jake, was out there doing the dishes, then all of a sudden I heard the clanging level amp up and looked up to see Jake walking down the hallway toward his room.
"I thought you were doing the dishes," I said.
"Dad took over," he answered.
"That doesn't mean you have to quit."
So Jake went back in the kitchen, and moments later he was heading down the hall to his room again.
The clanging was louder, as if intentionally calling attention to itself.
"Why are you quitting?" I ask our son.
"Dad says he's got it."
What more can be said? I'm curious about the reason Todd would take over one of the kids' jobs like that, but not curious enough to go in the room . . . and risk suffocation. Jake has A.D.D. He probably wasn't doing the job fast enough or sticking with it in a way that would be likely to see it finished before the evening was over--but still, dismissing him and taking over doesn't do anything to teach Jake responsibility. Jake doesn't seem to even know why his Dad came in there and took over. No words were spoken--and yet, communication of sorts. What an opportunity for father and son to work together wasted! Todd could have talked with Jake about his day. He could have shown him his method to make the job go by quickly and they could have enjoyed company while doing a job cheerfully. That would have built up Jake's sense of responsibility, his confidence, and his own communication skills for the future . . . but instead, he was dismissed. He got a message alright--he learned that whatever he did, it wasn't good enough.
This makes me think of Todd's oldest half brother, Roger. Roger was living in the same house as his wife and kids when I first met him. He was sleeping in the basement, biding his time until the youngest child graduated from high school. As soon as the youngest child left for college, Roger filed for divorce. I heard all the scuttle from Roger's side of the story--Todd's mother didn't keep her opinion secret. The marriage was doomed early on because Roger's wife didn't discipline the children. Oh, that evil woman just let the kids do whatever they wanted and there wasn't anything poor Roger could do about it!
Years later, after struggling to try to find common ground with Todd in parenting, after having him negate the discipline I try to enforce on the children . . . I'm tired. Tired of existing like a single parent in so many ways, and yet-- Tired of having my own parental authority undermined by my spouse. Tired of trying in vain. Tired of having Todd complain about the things the kids don't do because I didn't make them (even though Todd himself was there sabotaging me when I tried.) So, I "parent" when Todd is not around, but I often don't bother when he's at hand. I can't help but wonder if that was what Roger's wife went through.
Finally, I have to pass through the kitchen to switch laundry loads. Todd's scrubbing the counter now. He doesn't appear to be upset, or even grumpy, and yet I feel the mood (that's all I can think of to call it.) It starts to affect me somewhere between the back of my throat and the middle of my rib cage; then it grows--not only broader, but also thicker. I'd think I was crazy-- that it was just my imagination, but the kids seem to sense it, too. It warns us to get away from Todd. No need bringing it up to Todd--I've tried before and it always turns into "Oh, is that the way you see it?" or a similar statement dripping in sarcasm or prickling like the quills of a porcupine.
He did put some money in the checking account just in time to avoid NSF charges on bounced automatic payments today. That should be cause for celebration. Maybe he is changing. Should I be giving him the benefit of the doubt on the attitude behind his help in the kitchen, too? I'm skeptical. It wasn't just me. Something drove my son out of the kitchen. Is it understandable that we're having a hard time hugging a porcupine just because there's a chance that he may have been de-quilled? The problem is: I've trusted before, only to be jabbed by those stealth quills when I'm in my most vulnerable state. In the past, smoothness has only been there temporarily--as a means to manipulate others into giving him something he wants.
Am I being too cynical? I mean, what could be sexier than a man doing the dishes?
I guess I should have jumped him. But he has since gone to bed, and I still have work to do.
And, as my big brother used to say:
"Do a good deed every day, but if you get caught, it doesn't count."
I guess that's kind of a paraphrase of Matthew 6:1-4. Another paraphrase might include the clanging of dishes . . . . Just like the Father rewards those who do their good deeds quietly, out of the deep motivation of true love, let's just say it is infinitely more sexy for a man to quietly help his son do the dishes than for him to loudly take over and make it known to the entire household that he, and not the boy, deserves the credit.
I'M DOING DISHES. I'M IN THE KITCHEN AND I'M DOING DISHES. I'M DOING THEM BETTER THAN A TWELVE-YEAR-OLD BOY WITH A.D.D. AREN'T I SPECIAL? I'M BETTER AT THIS THAN A KID!
Sorry, Dude . . . . Not sexy.
Tomorrow I'm going to spend the day with my daughter--the one who just broke up with her boyfriend of 4 years. She has one week left of college, so we're going to pack and move some of her things, but also, I thought she could use a little support in the wake of the breakup. I'm so proud of her doing the hard thing and breaking up before they reached the point of no return, but I'm also concerned that she is at a very critical place in her life. I think it might be helpful for her to know about how some of the life choices I made "on the rebound" a couple decades ago are still causing me such incredible pain. I don't know how much I should actually tell her. If you're inclined to pray, please pray for me to have wisdom to know what to say and what not to say.
