The Pivot #7 – That Thin Line Between Helping and Enabling

To all my other single parents out there. I feel you. So does Google Gemini, which generated this photo.

I don’t want to throw my kids under the bus, but I guess I will. They’re a lot like I was as a kid: independent, creative, and terrible at stopping whatever they’re doing to do chores (and I mean terrible). I’m pretty sure it’s just a part of human design. But as someone who is very sensitive, with a pretty strong PDA profile (aka pervasive drive for autonomy, aka pathological demand avoidance), I do my best to try to collaborate with my kids so they learn how to get things done (chores, homework, the demands of home life in general) in a way that is more sustainable for all of us.

Let me give you an example.

I used to say things like, “I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON’T GET THE DISHES DONE IN THE NEXT FIFTEEN MINUTES, I’M TURNING OFF THE INTERNET!” and “1, 2, 3, UH OH, 4, 5…” and “I TOLD YOU FIFTEEN TIMES TO CLEAN UP THE BATHROOM!”

My son does not like when I yell. Neither does my daughter, obviously, but she’s stubborn like me and doesn’t take my demands as personally. She’s fifteen. She mostly rolls her eyes.

My son, however, gets overwhelmed, balls his hands into tight fists, builds up steam like a teapot before “crashing out,” then yells, “I can’t understand! You’re telling me too many things at once!”

So, I got smart and asked them how they would like me to help them help me make sure they get all their crap done so I don’t burn down the whole house in a fit of rage!

Suggestions included:

“Realize that it’s not that deep, Mom.”

“Let us live. Otherwise, why did you even have us? You didn’t ask our permission to be born.”

And other gems like: “We’re not slaves,” and, “Maybe if we wrote it down and you let us do the chores when we want, we would all live happier together.” I modified the last suggestion by adding a deadline.

“Fine,” I said. “You have until 8 p.m. to get all of your chores and homework done. I don’t care how you get it done, just get it done, and I promise not to yell. If it’s not done, I get to turn off the internet for 24 hours. Capiche?”

“Capiche.”

“Capiche.”

Here’s where I feel the rub, though, and I’m not sure if it’s just a generational thing or if I’m too new-agey and libetarded in my desire to heal old wounds with tools like psychotherapy and science. You’ll decide. When I was a kid, we did what we were told when we were told to do it. If we didn’t, we got grounded (no TV, no phone calls, no visiting friends, etc.). Once, when I was this close to beating my all-time record score playing an online game I loved called Crystal Quest (after ignoring my mom’s hollering about doing something), she simply unplugged the computer directly from the wall to get my attention. (And then she probably grounded me.) I almost lost my mind. When I told my dad to fuck off during a particularly awful bout of PMS when I was 16 (I have PMDD, so I turn into a whole other person the week before my period, and during those teen years, my hormones were all over the place and I needed help), I got grounded for a month, just in time for my next meltdown. I think I was grounded for six months straight that year.

Anyway, I used to wish my parents would just listen to me and try to understand me. If my mom would have let me finish the game, I would have done all my chores and my sister’s, just because I would have been so happy to have beat my last record.

If my dad had given me a hug and said, “It’s not okay to tell me to fuck off, but I can see you’re not feeling very good. You wanna tell me what’s going on?” I would have probably cried out all my frustration for 10 minutes, apologized profusely, then pulled myself up by my bootstraps and done whatever I was supposed to do. That’s what I’ve done ever since.

But we didn’t have those tools back then.

So everything I wanted from my parents when I was a teen, I’m giving to my kids. When my son wants to play his games online, I understand. And I’m fine if he does, as long as he does all the other stuff that keeps him and his family running. School is tough! If my daughter wants to get lost in doing makeup designs in the bathroom mirror for two hours after school because the night before she typed up 95 pages of notes before her exam (true story), then fine! Please. Find a way to enjoy life between obligations, by all means. But just make sure the chores get done. We share this living space together. We need to respect each other.

Yeah. Parents respecting kids… this is where I feel the rub. Am I enabling my kids, or am I just supporting them?

I’ll tell you one thing: I don’t get offended when my kids lash out at me. I know there’s always something behind it. When they shout something at me, I immediately ask, “What’s wrong?” Because there’s always something there. We go back and discuss why it’s not okay to lash out, but I also understand. And my greatest hope is that my kids will catch themselves when they’re upset and ask themselves, out of curiosity, what the real issue is. It’s never just, “WHY ARE YOU SO LOUD WHEN YOU EAT CARROTS! CAN’T YOU EAT LIKE A NORMAL PERSON?!” It’s usually, “I’m overwhelmed. I have a lot of pressure to do well on a test I haven’t prepared for, and I feel behind, and I’m scared of failing. And also, will you please eat carrots with your mouth closed because my misophonia is a level 10 right now.”

Yeah.

So.

I don’t know. Am I enabling? Am I helping?

I guess it’s a bit of both.

The good news is the chores are getting done with less yelling on my part. That’s gotta count for something.

I wish parenting came with a manual.

—Jaren

What’s your biggest rub as a parent?