Tag Archives: husband

Backseat Driver

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My husband recently had hip replacement surgery.  He’s relatively young for the procedure but was in such intense pain and getting virtually no relief from medication, there really was no choice.

Well, the plan was that he was going to be released from the hospital today.  I went to the hospital early today to be there for his physical and occupational therapy sessions.  I wanted to know everything about his recovery exercises and how they wanted him to get in and out of a chair so I could provide the right kind of physical support and reminders once he was home.

We decided he would ride in the back seat of our car for the ride home.  So, one of the things they had him practice was how to get in and out of the back seat using a trash bag on the seat to help him scoot across the seat.

And for some reason, once he was in the back seat, he seemed to think he was required to critique my driving ability.

When we ride in a car together, he does the majority of the driving.   I’ll take my turn at the wheel during long road trips and if he needs me to drop him off when his car is being serviced.  And, for the most part, when I’m driving, he keeps his mouth relatively shut.  But on this trip home from the hospital he had a comment on nearly every block.  “Why are you breaking?”  “Why are you in this lane?”  “You can go faster, you know.”

I counted to ten and held my tongue and decided that the critiques weren’t really because of my driving.  I decided that he knows for the next six to eight weeks, he’s going to have to rely on me and the kids at a level he’s not accustomed to and which makes him uncomfortable.  He, the man who always takes care of everyone else, is now the one who needs the care.

Adieu 2013, Hello 2014 – Life with Teenagers (LwT) 1

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Last night, at the stroke of midnight I was standing in our living room with my two daughters.  The youngest had grabbed a frying pan and wooden spoon as was banging away — and to think she’s had 4 1/2 months of percussion lessons at school!  My older daughter was counting down the seconds to midnight but for some reason was off by one second…Ryan Seacrest and the crowd in Times Square were counting down “10, 9, 8…” and my daughter was counting “11, 10, 9…”  I think she somehow thought this was funny.  I didn’t get it.

Earlier, between the TV shows that recapped the best and worst of 2013, I had informed my daughters that I wanted them to help me “stay current”.  This meant that every week, I wanted them to share what topics they and their friends were talking about, what was trending, videos and vines they were watching (see I learned about vines last night!) and music and artists that were hot.  They asked “why?” and I said I didn’t want to be a “fuddy duddy”.  They fell off their chairs laughing.  I suppose in hind sight, I might have picked a different word or phrase that a bit less telling as to my state of hipness (or lack thereof).

I was filled with dual conflicting emotions.  On the one hand I was immensely relieved that my husband would now have release from the pain of arthritis in his hip — he had just had hip replacement surgery.  I was so proud of my kids.  Their posts about their father and the relief they felt for him brought tears to my eyes.  I was with 2 of the greatest joys of my life and we were getting along and being silly (at my expense but that was okay).  But I was worried too because my son was at a party.  I had no qualms about the party or his behavior.  But New Year’s Eve is called “amateur night” and it was the other drivers that had me on edge.  Usually my husband is the one to wait up until everyone in the house was home and safe.  But he was resting in the hospital and so it was my job to stay up last night until everyone was accounted for.

I heard the garage door open and close.  I heard the back door open and close.  I heard footsteps down the creaky back hallway.  And then my phone buzzed with a text from my son and one simple word…”Home”.

 

Screaming Me Me

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What happened to the gold old days when “time out” or the mere mention of “time out” was enough to stop all squabbling, whining, temper tantruming, disobedience, and back talking?  Time out even worked on most dinner table disagreements excepting lima beans and Brussel sprouts — for my kids’ young palates, being sequestered for hours on end was worth it if it meant they didn’t have to finish those particular vegetables.

When our children were younger, I noticed a marked difference between my husband and I regarding how we approached discipline.  On the one hand, I thought my husband had the right idea.  At the first sign of disobedience he would intervene, making it clear to our children that were they to continue on their current chosen and obviously flawed course of action there would be consequences.  Very often dire consequences.  So, while I admired that he clearly made the kids masters of their own destiny; for example, “if you continue talking back, we won’t be going to the pool,” I often felt the punishment did not fit the crime.  Usually a loss of pool privileges was not what was at stake, rather we were not going to go on vacation if they didn’t pick up their room when told.  Not exactly a reasonable or realistic punishment.  But at least it was their choice, they were in control.  They were making a conscious decision to continue doing the bad wrong aggravating thing they were doing.  Another issue with my husband’s style was lack of follow through.  Let’s just say we never stayed home from vacation.

I, on the other hand, prided myself in being the enlightened parent.  My punishments were commensurate with the misdeed.  I was fair and balanced.  I gave the kids a chance to weigh in with what they thought was a reasonable punishment.  I was the poster child for every child rearing guru who ever had a best-selling book.  Or so I thought.

But the reality is that I wasn’t any of those things.  I was, and occasionally still am, a screaming me me (or is it screaming mi mi?).  And as far as helping the children learn when they had overstepped the boundaries between good and bad behavior, well, I didn’t actually help them that much.  See I thought I was even-keeled.  And I was up to a point.  And then, Boom!  Off the cliff!  They never saw it coming.  Out of nowhere from the depths of my being would erupt a ferocious “SSSTTTTOOOOOPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Lovely.  I’m so proud.

But they say self-awareness is the first step in recovery.  That and the kids growing older and wiser.

And with age, “time out” has turned into “time without”…when necessary (which is extremely rare) the threat of a loss of an electronic gadget privilege works wonders.

But as I said, the need to voice a warning has become increasingly infrequent.  At least someone in the family is maturing.