I understand the benefits. I see the potential. He even appreciates the final outcome, but it does not diminish the intensity of the malevolence that accompanies every single
piano practice!
But I am not sure quitting is the answer. He has a similar angst against math homework, and work in general. . . and really, you can't just quit life that easily.
Today when the choice was presented, after a passive aggressive stand-off, to choose to practice or miss the bike ride and picnic planned with friends he proceeded to wail loudly instead of choosing. So it was left to me to decide.
That is when I magically turned into Aunt Bertha*. She's a little mean, kind of loud because she tends to match the decibels of the kid and she's in your face, and means business. She's even a little sarcastic and makes faces. If he can't muster some decent respect for dear old mom, then Aunt Bertha has the opportunity to appear and take over. Truth be told it's better than the alternative name he screams at me when he's mad; "Ihateyou youstupididiot!" I am so done with that name that I told him "no more! never again!!" But of course I couldn't stop him and so I made him call me Aunt Bertha for the rest of the day. He hates it. Ha! But you know, you have to come up with some humor somewhere. I got a laugh out of the girls and I even had to chuckle myself and it felt awfully good to fling those piano books through the open window. Eventually I went out and picked them up and brought them back in for another round this evening, though. In the meantime while everybody else had a grand time at the park biking and eating ice-cream, Buster Brown was mowing. He wouldn't exactly cooperate, so I had to walk next to him giving orders at every swath. He completed the lawn and the orchard. The self-propeller on the mower is broke so it was tough, hard work for a skinny kid, but there's no better way to grow muscles than by good old fashioned work. We shall see if it builds willingness in the brain for the simpler, daily task of practicing two or three little songs each day.
** Hopefully I am not offending any Bertha's reading here. I picked the most unused, old fashioned name I could think of off the top of my head and it just happened to be Aunt Bertha. As far as I remember I have never met a Bertha in my lifetime, but you never know...
6 comments:
You did it! My dad's brother was married to my Aunt Bertha, and she was a sweet, old-fashioned, hard-working farm lady--looked kind of like one of those gaunt women you see in the Oklahoma Dust Bowl pictures from the 30's. She could cook up a storm, too. But we called her Auntie Bert, so you're off the hook. Appreciate your hard-working humor. It truly helps defuse bad situations. --Dale V
Jacob couldn't figure out who Aunt Bertha was. I read it to him twice and he wasn't getting it. Finally, I just told him it was you! He thought for a second and finally it clicked, "Oooohhh, is that her alter-ego?" lol
Yup!
I just love reading your blog, find you to be an encouragement as I struggle here with similar situations. I have long repeated that hard work builds good character and we work HARD. Good for you walking with him while he mows to make sure it is done. Keep up with the piano. A standing rule in our home is that EVERY kid learns to play the piano and then we take them to the nursing homes to play as those people are so accepting of the kids/their music. You are are doing a good job and are right to not give up. I am proud of you! Don't know how to leave my name or I would.
Alter-ego, eh! lol. Somehow Aunt Bertha does not conger up a great image to emulate... but anyway... :-)
Anonymous... you can just leave your name in the body of the comment if you dont' have a google tag-line.
Hard work is good for all of us. Can't say I'm excited about pushing the piano lessons. I get tired of the non-songs.
Ooooh...I think we might have an Aunt Ethel who needs to come to our house.
So funny. You get to mirror their behavior but not have it accounted to good ol' mom. I think I will pass this on to my daughter.
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