Heart-Breaker

If I listened long enough to you,
I'd find a way to believe it was true.
Knowing that you lied, straight-faced while I cried.
Still I look to find a reason to believe.
~Rod Stewart

Mervin’s a real heart-breaker.

Yesterday morning, I left the school feeling disillusioned, disheartened, broken and empty. I nearly lost my way while trying to get home. I’m lost in my heart and soul.

Resigned, I sprawled myself on my bed for ten minutes which felt like ten decades, without being able to think or feel. I just lay there quietly, letting my spirit and mind roamed outside my body, physically and mentally exhausted.

When the ache in my heart subsided a little, I began to question myself. What had I been doing? What Had I done wrongly? What will happen to him?

I decided that I was too full of myself, always believing that I was doing the right thing the right way. Pride aside, I went online to search for advice on handling kids who resorted to lying.

The result I got in return was enlightening. There were things I had already known but approaches which had never crossed my mind. All I needed to do was to apply what I had just learned. It sounded so simple! But hell it sure wasn’t…

First of all, I’d need to find the reason for his lying. What else? SOCCER! I felt like hauling out all the balls and pierce through all their hearts while I dance to their hisses and sizzles. However, I suddenly remembered I was the one who kept pushing all the balls to him when he was playing with dolls as a toddler. I taught him how to kick the ball, how to catch it with both his hands and how I inspired him to be the next football star. So afterall, I’m still the main culprit here.

Next, I asked myself, was I overprotective? Were the rules I set too strict? Of course not! I only let him played for an hour per week as I just didn’t like the fact of him running all over the place for a silly ball. He may trip and fall or may even injure someone accidentally. He’ll get too warm and worn out for lessons and can’t concentrate in class. He may turn rowdy, talk crudely, behave roughly… Alright. I admit I was paranoid.

The most difficult part was the talking. Knowing what to say is one thing, how to say it is another thing. I kept rehearsing in my mind throughout the afternoon what I was supposed to say to him; what would be his response; how should I answer his questions. By the time I reached the school in the afternoon for my swimming parent volunteer duty, the lines in my head was still much scrambled.

By the time I fetched my kids from school, I suddenly felt like chickening out. I put on my happiest face, received them with the gayest smile, brought them to McDonald’s for dinner and Mervin blurted out unexpectedly,

“Mummy, I know what I can have for punishment for this morning. I’ll stop playing soccer for a whole year.”

My smile froze and I nearly rolled my eyeballs heavenwards. I looked at him, assessed the surroundings carefully, decided that it wasn’t the right place to hold the serious mother-to-son talk, and replied soothingly,

“We’ll talk about this when we reach home, ok?”

Throughout the journey home, I again tried to recall what I was supposed to say to him. Blank. Fizzle. Spits and spatters. Only a few lines came out.

Once in the doorstep, however, the kids dumped their bags on the floor, kicked off their shoes and dashed into their room to play.

I was relieved for the break. But the problem had to be faced sooner or later, and I preferred to hit the iron while it was hot.

The opportunity to talk to him arose late at night but not in a conducive mood as planned. I was mad at him for being unable to solve a mathematical problem sum. Somehow or another, the reprimand led to the event in the morning. I tried to calm myself down and spoke to him as amicably as possible. I tried to apply whatever I had learned from the afternoon but the outcome was not as expected.

It was apparent that he was tired and wasn’t in the mind of listening to what I had to offer.

“Would you rather continue this conversation or continue this another time?” I remembered reading somewhere not to force the kid to discuss something when he was unwilling. But I was just beginning to get into the situation and had the drive to carry on. He’d better prefer to continue…

“I’d rather continue…” Yippee!

“… another time,” Drats! “I’m very tired now. I want to sleep.”

“Alright, we’ll stop then as I can see that you are unhappy right now,” I began sneering and caught myself in time, “I want you to know that you can always come to me when you feel like talking or stop when you feel uncomfortable, ok?”

He grunted.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me before you sleep?”

“Can I play the computer for twenty minutes? You promised to let me play for twenty minutes just now,” his tear-stained face still showing displeasure as he muttered.

I nearly blew my top but held my breath. I withdrew the glare I sent him and considered carefully before I spoke,

“Yes. I did promise you to let you play for twenty minutes. I ALSO mentioned that you had to do your assessment first. But you had only done one question and the other one was still unsolved. I am very sorry but I have to say no. Furthermore, it’s very late now, and you just mentioned that you are tired, right?”

I tried to dismiss the defiant look on his face off my mind and continued as evenly as I could,

“Please don’t think that I’m trying to make your life miserable. I want you to be happy too. I hope you will not be angry with my decision. I have to do what is best for you. Can you understand?”

Without a word, he left the table and went to bed.

I sat alone at the table, staring into the space in front of me. As the sniffles in the room turned to a light snore, I allowed my own tears to roll down my cheeks.