Too Good To Last....

Well, I knew Spenser's streak of good behavior at school had to be too good to last. Yesterday I got a phone call from his teacher right after the school day was over. Did I mention that anytime the phone rings now days, I almost have a panic attack? I dread the phone ringing, absolutely dread it.

Anyway, the day had been going ok until the last 20 minutes or so of the day. The teacher passed out corrected papers to the students. Spenser happened to get 4 questions wrong. Not a good thing when one thinks one is always right, and one is a perfectionist. He flipped. Told the teacher she was wrong, he was right. Would not let her go over them with her to make sure she was right. Just became a total jerk. Yes, my son does act like a jerk when the mood strikes. So the school disciplinarian had to come down and talk to Spenser about the three rules that have to be obeyed in order to stay in the classroom. Spenser didn't give a hoot. Tore up the offending paper. Sigh.

So I get the phone call. I feel ever so terrible that he does this shit at school. I feel bad for the teacher who doesn't understand why he does this. I feel bad for the other students who have to endure Spenser when he acts like a damn loon. Mostly I feel bad that Spenser cannot seem to control himself past a certain point. It makes me angry. This should not be a hard thing for him, yet it is. Always has been, I suppose always will. Thing is, this is better then it has been in the past. He is generally more loving, and compromises easier. Yesterday was just a bad day I guess.

So when he got home, I of course had to be the mom who told him the behavior was not acceptable, and would not be tolerated. That no game cube until he can show me that he can behave in class. His x-box ticker has to be set back, so he has to earn back the points it takes, to get an x-box. That the x-box party his uncle Lance promised if he got x amount of good day reports, had to be started all over again. I was not a popular person. I was told how much he hated me. I could go the rest of my life not hearing that, and I would still already know he does hate me, because I have heard it so much in the past years. I could go the rest of my life not being hit by my son, and still remember how it felt that my son, the child that came from me, hates me so much, he feels he must hit me.

I feel like a suck ass mother. Nothing I can do helps him in any way. I know he hates me. Parenting a child with bipolar is so very hard, and so very frustrating. Being a wife to a person with bipolar is just as frustrating, but since he is a grown up, he knows how to control it a bit better, so I am not wounded constantly. Spenser doesn't know how to do this yet, so I get the brunt of his hatred, and venom.

So I am longing for the time in LA when I didn't have to deal with a child that hates his mother. When I didn't have to worry that the next phone call was from the school, telling me my son has yet again flipped out. When I could relax, and not worry about what else I could be doing to help someone who doesn't know he needs help. Sometimes, my life is a drag.

Sigh.