Today was a much better day. The culmination is a lovely lovely talk with a carer from Cherry Trees on how wonderful Zack has been, and what an improvement they see in him.
Nick phones me from his parents... good trip, good calm kid. Nick sounds bemused, pleasantly surprised and looking forward to a good weekend.
Unlike Nick, I am not surprised. Throughout this summer, I have seen time and time again the improvements in Zack's behaviour and relationship to others. I have seen him show restraint, tolerance at times and some understanding of others' differences (particularly with Tom).
Until he is with me. It's not a totally negative picture. I have had a few hugs, and a memorable one hour playing Qwirkle with him.
But when I have to be mum, and ask him to do something, two things happen - I honestly don't know which started first. He refuses, more or less aggressively and can then continue to be increasingly defiant and aggressive, sometimes becoming violent. The other thing that happens is that as I form the thought that something needs to be done, I try to formulate words that might - just might - result in Zack aquiescing. As I do this, I've noticed that I am ... scared. Scared of the drama that will ensue, scared of the words, the coldness in his voice. Scared of having to stick to my guns, and then having to enforce any consequence that Nick, Zack and I have agreed to. Which, by the way, I always do. Trouble is, as soon as I do, he charges at me.
There's no need to tell me that kids sense their parents' emotions. There's no need to tell me that fear is palpable.
There's no need to tell me that my fear almost certainly makes him feel so vulnerable that he lashes out.
Tell me how not to be scared.
Tell me how to "be fun" when the slightest suggestion outside the current obsession leads to scorn, derision and anger.
Tell me... can I carry on?
Tell me how.
Nick phones me from his parents... good trip, good calm kid. Nick sounds bemused, pleasantly surprised and looking forward to a good weekend.
Unlike Nick, I am not surprised. Throughout this summer, I have seen time and time again the improvements in Zack's behaviour and relationship to others. I have seen him show restraint, tolerance at times and some understanding of others' differences (particularly with Tom).
Until he is with me. It's not a totally negative picture. I have had a few hugs, and a memorable one hour playing Qwirkle with him.
But when I have to be mum, and ask him to do something, two things happen - I honestly don't know which started first. He refuses, more or less aggressively and can then continue to be increasingly defiant and aggressive, sometimes becoming violent. The other thing that happens is that as I form the thought that something needs to be done, I try to formulate words that might - just might - result in Zack aquiescing. As I do this, I've noticed that I am ... scared. Scared of the drama that will ensue, scared of the words, the coldness in his voice. Scared of having to stick to my guns, and then having to enforce any consequence that Nick, Zack and I have agreed to. Which, by the way, I always do. Trouble is, as soon as I do, he charges at me.
There's no need to tell me that kids sense their parents' emotions. There's no need to tell me that fear is palpable.
There's no need to tell me that my fear almost certainly makes him feel so vulnerable that he lashes out.
Tell me how not to be scared.
Tell me how to "be fun" when the slightest suggestion outside the current obsession leads to scorn, derision and anger.
Tell me... can I carry on?
Tell me how.
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