During a nice visit with an old friend today, she told me she can't imagine how I make my life work as a parent. Most of the time, I don't think about it; there really is rarely time to just sit still and think too much about anything.
Probably the most thoughtful moments in my day are those spent writing to this blog. Tonight, if I were to answer my friend's question truthfully, I would have to say that my life isn't working, as a parent. I try, but often things overwhelm me.
This weekend my quasi-teenager got ripped off by a scam-artist in the online game he and his friends love to play. He had been so excited for days as he described to his younger brother (a slightly more skeptcal sort) how his new collection of weapons and tools and "money" in the game, which he had labored for weeks to build, would allow him to play the game at an ever-higher level, and succeed in new ways.
In the past, his collection was essentially destroyed by a scammer, so in recent weeks, he has tried to be especially careful. But yesterday, at a friend's house, he got entrapped and stripped of all of his "wealth."
He kept a game face on while we were there, but once we left, I saw he was sobbing quietly in the car. I reminded him that we both know how dangerous playing this game can be, and that I was proud of him for keeping up his efforts to improve at it, even after his earlier disastrous episode.
Then, I took a breath and told him that because of several important errands he'd performed for me recently, I would front him the real money he needed to recover from yesterday's scam.
He brightened and was so grateful and soon was excitedly conspiring with his brother about he would rebuild his character's wealth so he could once again venture into the imaginary world and attempt to improve. By last night they had charged ~$26+ to my credit card and were thrilled that his account was more than back to full strength.
Tonight, when I brought him to my house for dinner, he told me about an offer someone had made to him this afternoon that he wanted to follow up on. "It will take ten minutes, max," he assured me. (This, because I had insisted there was to be no computer gaming this evening.)
As he used my computer to contact the guy who made the offer, I was preparing dinner, running the dishwasher, doing a load of laundry, and making the kids' lunches for tomorrow. Just a typical Sunday night.
The rest of us sat down to dinner but he stayed in my room, finishing up on the deal. Suddenly, we heard a shriek, followed by loud tears as my red-faced son came shuddering out of my room. He had been double-scammed: two people had trapped him and stolen all of his "money."
I erupted like a volcano. Most of the time, I can remain calm. But this was too much. We had gone up and down emotionally as a family so much over this scamming business. I raged around the house like a madman, screaming and swearing and denouncing the rip-off artists who had treated my sweet son in this despicable way. I'm sure the combined sounds of my rage, his wails, and the cries from his sister and brother, horrified at seeing both of us fall apart, shook anyone within hearing distance to his or her core.
I doubt my neighbor will meet my eyes for months, for example. She probably thinks I'm insane.
Once we had all calmed down, and gotten the rotten bile of disappointment out of our systems, we dried our tears and embraced and comforted one another.
We had a discussion about the kinds of values we as a family try to hold to, and how hard that is when others take advantage of us, steal from us, and smash our hopes.
We ended up agreeing that we'd all gotten something positive out of this disaster, though it would be hard to put a name on it. The kids went on with their evening rituals; hours later, I am awash with self-loathing.
How could I have neglected to pay closer attention when my sweet boy told me about this "deal" that would take only a few minutes? Why couldn't I control my rage when our collective worst fears came true, and he lost everything he had so carefully built up (the estimate of his loss in real money is ~$30+).
I hugged him repeatedly, he told me he loves me, and we agreed we will need to seriously reconsider whether this is game that he is even ready to play in the future. He's fine, I think, and quite sleepy now.
This will be one of the nights I do not sleep well.
Indeed, the correct answer to my friend's question about how I make my life work is I don't. I don't make it work. It goes okay for a while and then I break, and I fail. The exhaustion I feel tonight is that of a man who tried and failed. It is inexcuable to allow your kids to see you so out of control.
Yet, I have always possessed this fury, rarely unleashed except in this precise set of circumstances -- where somebody hurts one of my kids or a person I love. My ferocity at these moments truly scares me.
All I'm left with is the emptiness of regret.
-30-
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