"Fuckface" is the new "Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep"


I strongly suspect that I should not be writing this. No good can come of it. I am reminded of dooce and how much detail she writes about her family that is bound to just inflate her daughter's future therapy needs. But it's on my mind, my PowerBook is open, and I am going to write.

Ms Pope and Sören and I ran out for dinner last night at El Sol y La Luna. There was something going on at Jo's coffeehouse, and for some reason I connected it with Eliza Gilkeson, and we got into a painful debate about whether or not to stick around for a while after dinner and hear Eliza play at Jo's. Ms Pope was exhausted and in a bear-ish mood, and did not feel like staying outside on a hot night and listening to music. It turns out that Eliza wasn't playing at Jo's anyway last night -- there was some kind of war discussion (when Jim Hightower is one of the discussion leaders, you can guess what direction that is heading). So, we went on home. I laid down with Sören and we finished the last two chapters of The Phantom Tollbooth and then got into the standard war of trying to get her to go to bed.

I think I got conscripted to get her in pajamas and actually in bed. I got the first part done, and then she came into our bedroom for one last hug. Ms Pope offered a piggy-back ride into Sören's bedroom if she would leave right away. Eventually, the two of them went into Sören's room, pushing, pulling, screaming... And then I heard our little angel yelling: "Fuckface! Asshole!" And screaming in riotous laughter. Ms Pope was getting more and more frustrated, and I heard the soft slap of a hand striking a little bottom. Oh, God. What has my family degenerated to? My daughter is calling my wife a fuckface and Ms Pope is responding with corporal punishment.

I know we live in south Austin, but I really did not think that we would become quite so... well, white trash. For the sake of Sugar Booger, who used to hate that term, it can be read just as trash.

When Ms Pope came back into the room, with Sören still singing her angelic refrain, I challenged her about the spanking. She was obviously close to tears, and had no idea how to respond to what Sören was doing. I asked her not to spank any more, and if she needed help parenting to ask me! She said something about how she could not control her behavior, because she could take away all of Sören's toys, and still she would continue doing whatever it was that she wanted to do.

I walked into Sören's room and told her:"I don't want to hear one more word out of you tonight, or tomorrow, you will be grounded from all the school parties. And first thing in the morning, I want you to apologize to your mother, and mean it. Good night." I hadn't even gotten back to my room before she yelled out, "I'm sorry, Mommy."

My first reaction is to think that I am a much more stellar parent than Ms Pope is. But that would be unfair on so many levels. What this really represents is that I created Sören's incredibly antisocial behavior. When she was yelling fuckface at her mother, I was struggling not to laugh. Sören has taken what I was too afraid to do when I was a kid and just acted on it. I created this monster.
And by creating it, I think I know what drives her, and what might control her. I know where her buttons and levers are, it's just that usually I press them to make her go crazier than she would if it were just Ms Pope there.

We both need to lose our parenting rights. It would be better for South Austin if we contacted Angelina and Brad and offered them another adopted child. I would love to see Brad deal with this kid.

Posted: Sat - August 27, 2005 at 08:08 AM        

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