Who Is This Boy?

This week, we have chatted about work, the move to Florida and the IRS. But that's not all. No siree. My son has thrown his hand into the stress mix.

Last week I was out of town and received a call from my ex husband in regard to Dylan. It seems that during his phys ed class, Dylan had had a "misunderstanding" with another child.

Again.

From what I understand, he'd handed a girl a ball. Girl yells at him. He doesn't know why she is yelling at him. Dylan reacts by trying to swat ball out of girl's hand. Ball hits girl in the face. Dylan turns and walks away when it's obvious that ball hit girl in face. Girl, who is no shrinking violet, marches back to Dylan and proceeds to punch him repeatedly in the head. Dylan drops to the ground. Both children go to the vice principal's office. Both children are suspended.

SUSPENDED.

MY child.

When I got home, I talked with him and tried to understand where it was along the way that my sweet boy disappeared and this alien took over his personality. Adolescence has arrived along with the wild hormonal mood swings, the irrational behaviour and the increasingly poor judgment. I can't blame it all on the pre-teenage angst, either. The truth is that Dylan has been struggling for a few years now.

We have tried enrolling him in sports to foster a healthier social intelligence. We have tried limiting media because there is just nothing good to be said about most video games, television and internet social sites. We have spent hours talking to him about the missteps with other kids and the way he treats people. We have role played and tried to teach concepts like, "building bridges" (as suggested by sista cousin) or "deposits into the friendship bank". None of it has appeared to stick with him for any length of time.

Some days, I feel like a good parent. Other days, I feel stupid and ineffective and completely at a loss. There are times when the frustration level is so high that shamefully, I lose my temper and hiss at him about his inadequacies only to apologize later. But I know that words cut deeply and cannot be rescinded. I know this. Intimately.

Dylan served his in school suspension this week and the very next day, I received a call from his math teacher telling me that he'd gotten himself into trouble again. She wasn't jumping on a bandwagon. She just wanted to help. After hanging up with her, I sat at my desk for a few minutes trying to gather my composure and came to the quiet realization that I needed help, of the professional kind. I am not willing to roll the dice and hope that Dylan outgrows this social and emotional dysfunction.

So next week, together, we will make our first visit to a professional. I know it won't be a magic cure all but it's comforting to know that there is another resource out there for us to explore.