I have a secret to share, and it’s not easy to admit.
“Mom! Ethan is outside! Can I play with him?” my 7-year-old, Max, exclaimed, flinging the door wide open and inviting a swarm of bugs into our home.
“Sure, Max. Just stay in the yard, okay?”
“Why do I always have to stay in the yard?” he shouted, already sprinting off before I could respond.
I have to confess something else, and the weight of this truth is becoming unbearable.
“Want me to grab dinner on my way home?” my husband texted.
“Sounds good,” I replied absentmindedly.
It’s tough when you have a neighbor like Ethan. He’s 5, and he’s everything a parent dreams of: polite, sweet, and compliant.
While my only child shares some admirable traits with his little buddy, the world often sees only his struggles due to what professionals label oppositional defiant disorder. In plain terms, he tends to reject everything.
(Ding Dong) Who on earth could that be? Please let them go away.
It’s not just the usual kid stuff he resists, like brushing his teeth or eating vegetables. No, he will also resist things he actually enjoys, like ice cream or going to the movies. I mean, we’re talking about full-on tantrums that would make anyone question their parenting skills.
“Mom! Ethan wants to ride bikes, but I don’t want to!”
Why is this happening?
“Max, you don’t have to ride bikes if you don’t want to. You can use your scooter instead,” I suggested.
“I hate my scooter!” he screamed, sounding like a wild animal.
But he doesn’t hate his scooter—he loves it, which makes this even more frustrating.
“Dinner’s ready! I brought home Chinese food,” my husband announced as he walked through the door.
“No! I hate Chinese food!” Max yelled, kicking the curb in a dramatic display.
He really doesn’t.
“I’m not eating that!” I left him there, feeling helpless as I wondered how many more times he’d kick the curb before breaking down in tears.
Sometimes, I find myself begrudgingly comparing my son to Ethan. Not because Ethan is a bad kid, but because he embodies everything I wish my son could be.
How is it that Ethan can put on his shoes without fuss, while my son struggles with even simple tasks? How can Ethan clean up his toys without an argument, while my son requires multiple reminders?
What bothers me most about Ethan’s presence is how it casts a glaring spotlight on my child’s challenges, as well as my own shortcomings as a parent.
“Mom! I need a Band-Aid!”
Please let it be a simple scrape.
“Okay, I’ll get one for you,” I started to say, but Ethan interrupted me, racing to his house to fetch a whole box of Band-Aids.
He returned, leaving a trail of bandages across our lawn.
It’s moments like these that reveal my struggles as a parent. I wish it wasn’t my son who is viewed as the difficult one.
“Do you want to smash Matchbox cars?” Ethan asked.
“Sure!” Max replied, his mood changing instantly.
“Awesome! You’re my best friend in the whole wide world,” Ethan said.
“You’re mine too,” Max grinned back.
“Am I?” Ethan asked, surprised.
“Yeah, of course you are,” Max beamed.
Chinese food straight from the carton has never tasted so good.
This journey of parenting can be tough, but it’s essential to remember we’re all doing our best. For more insights on parenting and to explore topics like home insemination, check out this post on intracervical insemination. If you’re interested in understanding more about tools for at-home insemination, Make a Mom offers great resources. For further reading on pregnancy and home insemination, IVF Babble is an excellent resource.
In summary, navigating the world of parenting a challenging child can be overwhelming, but it also has its rewarding moments. Finding joy in the little things, like a shared laugh over Matchbox cars, makes it all worthwhile.