Sunday, 27th June 2021
Angry
When I wrote in my last post about Timi getting in trouble at school first because he was snarly with his friends and then because he was rude to his teacher, I kind of implied that she, Miss Teacher, was picking on him. That he, my golden boy, couldn’t possibly behave in that way.
Well, I was wrong.
Timi is not a gentle lamb. When pushed, or even sometimes, when asked nicely, he becomes a ferocious beast. In this past week alone, he has growled at me (just because I asked him to ‘wait a minute’), screamed at his brothers (for playing too roughly with him), stormed out of a room (because I told him not to mount my aching back) and, indignant that I dared tell him off for not tidying up quickly enough, slammed a drawer so hard the clock crashed down from the wall. And I haven’t even started counting the times when he has decided to ignore Tomi’s pleas for company (more on this later), block his ears so he doesn’t have to hear his brother’s jokes or stories, or remain unmoved when either of them is crying loudly. He is no golden boy, and despite the horror I expressed in my last post, I am not unaware of this.
I am, however, beginning to worry about his temper. He loses it at the slightest provocation and seems not to know how not to. (Even as I write this, he has just thundered into bed, banging himself down with indignation—how dare we refuse to serve him the dinner he expected?)
I’ve been comforting myself that it was all part of the famed testosterone surge that’s supposed to happen around this time in their life. I’d been told about it by many mothers of boys: Oh, I too was worried about my son until I read Steve Biddulph’s ‘Raising Boys’! I was so relieved to read that it was just a testosterone surge. Timi was only about two when I first heard about this surge, but I filed the information away in the back of my mind. When, like other mothers (in my life and in online forums), my own angel boy started acting like a beast, I retrieved the file and reassured myself that it was just a physiological change he was going through. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t our fault, and there was nothing we could do to prevent it—we just had to ride it out.
But my comfort blanket has been very recently yanked away and binned. It turns out it’s a myth, the testosterone surge. There’s a surge alright, but it happens very soon after birth and quickly disappears. Levels then remain pretty stably low until the boy approaches puberty. There is actually no scientific evidence (and it’s been searched for!) of this pre-school aggression-inducing spike.
It would appear then, as this fellow mum of three boys asserts, that I cannot shirk my responsibilities under the guise of some unavoidable biological phenomenon. It is up to us parents, she insists, to figure out and provide for our boys’ (and girls’!) emotional needs.
So, I am back to being worried. He is often so angry at the smallest thing and carries offences long and far. There is definitely well-documented advice on how to deal with aggression in children, but before we have a chance to think about it, we find ourselves reacting in the exact opposite way from what is advised. I panic that we will turn around in a decade and find that because we didn’t properly handle things with him, a wall of resentment has risen tall and thick. Recently, I have taken to suddenly grabbing him, holding on tight and telling him how much he is loved, hoping that, somehow, that truth will pick away at any insidious constructions happening in his heart.
Until we start to really get it right, I hope this will suffice. Especially because, obviously, this is not just a passing phase.
***
Scared
I mentioned above that Tomi has ‘company’ needs.
The thing is, he is terrified of being alone. It’s a fear I can relate to one hundred per cent, as I too was a tremendously fearful child. Like Tomi, once it became clear that I had to go to some part of the house where no one else would be, like, say, upstairs to do a wee, or down to the kitchen to get a cup, or even, just outside the room everyone else was in, I would turn to Lil Sis in a wild panic: ‘Please, follow me. I’m scared.’
What was I scared of? Ojuju Calabar* of course. Or some mean old witch lying in wait in the dark corners, ready to pounce. Or ghosts, spirits or any other being nefarious and strange. It was a well-known fact that these fiends were rendered powerless only by the presence of a duo. If just solo little me ventured near their lair, they would have no problem attacking, but if my three-and-a-half years younger sister accompanied me on my errand, they wouldn’t dare try me.
So, I often begged her. (It used to be Mimi or Momo but the one was fed up with me, and the other was, under no circumstances, to be taken advantage of anymore).
Soon, Lil Sis too was fed up with me. ‘Leave me alone jo. What are you afraid of? There’s no one there!’
I would at that point resort to bribery or threats, anything to ensure that I wasn’t going into the outer darkness by myself.
Tomi is like me, poor child. He has conjured up monsters in his mind and placed them all over the house. His monsters, like mine, only attack the lone wanderer, so Timi is regularly summoned as a necessary deterrence.
Timi, like my siblings, is now well and truly fed up with him and that angry streak has its best showings in these times when Tomi plaintively requests his big brother’s company.
Lu and I are trying our best to handle the situation properly. Lu takes the ‘face-your-fears’ approach and has succeeded many times to get Tomi to go it alone after a rousing ‘you are braver than you think’ speech. I tend to focus on reassuring him that there are no such monsters out to get him, that God is always with him and that we are always nearby. I don’t want him to be like me, so I encourage him to take small steps. Another thing I don’t want is to stoke that resentment in Timi that I’ve spoken about, so I try not to force him to accompany Tomi too often. But I do talk to him about being patient with his brother:
“But he is nearly five years old,” he huffs with exasperation. “Why is he still scared?”
“Mummy was still scared when she was twenty-one,” (this forced a smile through his scowl) “and sometimes, still is now. Be kind to him, and maybe, unlike Mummy, he will grow out of it.”
“OK,” he dragged the word out with a sigh, like it was the hardest thing to agree to.
Having said all this, I recently discovered to my sad surprise that the one thing that is stronger than Tomi’s fearfulness is a sensitivity I didn’t know was within. The other day, soon after telling him off, I walked back into the sitting room to find that he wasn’t there with his brothers. This was strange, so I went looking. I found him lying morose in his bed. I had told him off without knowing the full details about what happened. He hadn’t hurt Temi on purpose, he was only trying to help.
Putting aside my surprise that he’d ventured upstairs all by himself and had managed to stay there for any length of time, I tried to cajole a smile back onto his face. As I did, I made a mental note to think also of him in my pursuits to better understand Timi’s feelings.
Prioritising emotional intelligence—especially with children—is not something I have had much of a chance to be comfortable or familiar with, but I am trying hard to. And not a moment too soon as I am finding that my ‘jolly sunshine’ Tomi, like my ‘golden boy’ Timi, is more complex than I thought.
***
Confused
Speaking of complex, Temi, as I have described to you in the past, is a different beast all together. Angry, sensitive, rude, considerate, jolly, withdrawn, caring, fearful—he’s does it all, and sometimes simultaneously. If there was ever a risk of us overlooking the complexity of our older boys’ emotional needs, that was never going to be the case here. Complexity is what Toddler Temi came wrapped up in and, with him, it’s all we spend our time wading through.
Recently though, he has started to communicate his feelings. That must be useful, right? Wrong.
“How are you Temi?”
“I’m sad.”
“Aw. Why are you sad?”
“I’m not sad, I’m worried.”
“Oh! Why are you worried?”
“I’m not worried. I’m sad.”
“Wait, are you sad?”
“I’m not sad, I’m worried.”
On and on like that it would go. He was sad but no, he was worried, which was to say that he was sad, in a worried way.
We aren’t sure which it is, or even if it is either, but confused though he may be about his feelings, I intend to, as with his brothers, take into serious consideration, his emotional intelligence. One day, hopefully, he will properly understand his feelings—they all will, and I want to be there alongside them understanding too.
***
Worried
Which brings me to me. If you have been reading my posts for any length of time, it may come as little surprise to you that I have a slight tendency to worry. About everything.
Well, these days, it’s become a real problem. And it’s because of work.
I love the job, I really do. I am learning so much and as I have explained before, it feels amazing to become skilled in a specific field, to have knowledge that people actually need, that will make a difference somewhere.
However, I am finding myself buckling under some kind of pressure that is almost certainly self-imposed. I am constantly aware of my heartbeat and my chest is now permanently tight.
Training. Deadlines. Workloads. Spreadsheets. Emails. My day is consumed by thoughts of these, and my nights, by dreams of same.
The problem is my worry is unnecessary. My managers and colleagues are as patient and kind as any can be, and they seem genuinely confused when I grimace at the start of Zoom calls and confess my stress.
“Oh, don’t be. No one expects you to know it all or do it all right straightaway. You’re a trainee.”
But they don’t get it. I have to know it all and do it all right straightaway. Any instance of being confused or of making a mistake is severely punished by me and is followed by that paralysing anxiety.
On Friday evening, after a particularly bad day of it, with me stopping mid-work to pace the room, chanting ‘it’s going to be okay’s to myself, Lu sat me down to talk to me. It was a good talk and although I don’t remember all what he said, I have the takeaways: I am not going to make it if I carry on like this. I need to accept that I will make mistakes and get confused while I am learning—it is arrogant to not expect that. I must take my cue from and enjoy the benefits of a workplace that is as supportive as mine. And, basically, I need to calm the heck down.
It was a necessary telling off and I felt much calmer afterwards. But I worry (hah!) that come Monday, I will have forgotten to chill. I am determined to try. I’ll let you know next week how it goes.
***
Content
We finally held our girl!
Not ‘ours’ ours of course. Tee had a baby girl two weeks ago (on that side of the family, she’s the first one in this generation, after five boys!) and we drove down to London yesterday to visit them. She is a beautiful little bean. Not just because she’s a girl of course, but that’s definitely a contributing factor. As I held her, pushing my finger into hers to be gripped and pressing her impossibly soft cheeks against mine, I had the feeling. Again.
The night before, I’d dreamt about another baby girl. Again, not ours. We had gone to visit another cousin and it was their baby girl. In the dream, as I held that baby, the feeling had overwhelmed me and I had made the decision that as soon as we got home, I was going to tell Lu that we were going to try for another child right away. When I woke up and told him the dream, he laughed, and I may have imagined the fright I heard under that laugh.
I spent the morning imagining what it would be like to have a girl. Three guys and a girl. That’s what I’d call my brood. I went for a run with my imaginings and by the time I came back, they were gone—replaced by thoughts of my hectic reality. Besides, we had a trip to London to plan for.
But as I held Coco, tiny peaceful gorgeous peanut that she is, the feelings and imaginations returned. I shut my eyes and reclined in Tee’s rocking chair with her on my chest, a rare moment alone, and I let my mind wander and wonder.
“Mummy?”
That was Timi who had come back into the room to check on Coco, whom he was completely smitten by.
“Mummy!”
That was Tomi, done with his job on the toilet, needing a hand.
Temi didn’t call me—he had a fire engine to keep him company—but it wouldn’t be long before I would be summoned by my cling-master.
I opened my eyes and, giving Coco yet another kiss, I came back to my busy life. I pushed the feeling away again, and maybe for good. My arms were incredibly full, and, at that exact moment, they already had a little girl asleep in them.
***
Wise(r)
I wrote all of the above on Sunday (which, after a very late night spent laughing with my cousins who I have obviously been away from for too long, was a very sleepy day). But by the time I was done, I had no energy to proof-read and post.
Then Monday began.
I take back everything I ever said or thought about working mothers, every self-righteous feeling I had about being the self-sacrificial super stay-at-home mum who was more tired and busy than office-going mums ever could be. I take it all back.
Oh, and speaking of ‘office-going’, I go into the office for the first time on Wednesday. Where I will meet my colleagues in person for the first time. And have to keep myself composed in an open office where everyone can see me all the time. (Breathe, it’s going to be OK).
It’s just for that one day but, yeah, pretty soon, my crazy schedule will include a commute to London.
And I thought I had it hardest three years ago, when Temi was just born, when I had a baby, a nineteen-month-old and a three-year-old to look after. I would laugh with strangers and say that going back to work would actually be a break, a holiday, much easier than anything I was having to handle then. I thought working mums were slackers who didn’t feel the real grind of mothering.
Kai, keep quiet, I would think to myself whenever I heard them bemoan their busy lives, you that you’ve taken the easy road.
The ‘easy’ road. What a foolish little girl.
***
*Ojuju Calabar: n. crazy scary masquerade. See also: Highly Effective Tips on Keeping Children Obedient
Lu Me & Them 