I ruminate about so many things but I don't often come to any conclusion and so the ruminations just piddle away. Sometimes they return and we spend some more time together and then they wander off again. It's like being visited by an old friend. We rehash the familiar, question what's new, rant about what's wrong and then go our merry way having resolved nothing except that we will do it again sometime soon.
I like resolution. I don't often get it, though. Pity.
Two days ago I resolved an old itch and got a tattoo. Which resulted in a huge conflict with my ten year old son who apparently has much higher standards than I taught him. I found out that he finds my tattoo to be embarrassing - to him! Selfish little beast. Who taught him that? Since when do we judge people by their tattoos? And this from the kid who can't stand to hear swearing - just wait until you get on the middle school/high school bus next fall, kiddo! Seriously, you can't even say "crap" without getting, "Hey! Don't say that!" from him. I've started saying "Carp!" when I'm annoyed.
When he came home from school and saw the bandage around my wrist, he stormed up to his room, slammed the door and refused to come out or speak to me. He ate dinner in his room. He refused to speak to me and his Dad. He was not messing around. The kid was pissed. He's still pissed.
I picked him up from school (an after-school art class), and we drove to a parking lot where we could talk. I explained that one of the things kids should learn as they grow up is how to resolve conflict. This was one of those situations. We had a big conflict and we needed to resolve it. I resolved ahead of time that I would not exactly win this conflict. Neither of us would. The tattoo will stay - obviously. And so would the betrayal and the hurt and the disappointment he felt. But what could be resolved was the way we dealt with our response to those feelings.
Since his response was to shut me out, that needed to change. And since my desired response was to get defensive and explain all the ways I was right and he was wrong - that would not be allowed to happen.
I gave him time to say everything he needed to say: how angry he was, how betrayed he felt, how embarrassed he is, how he hates my tattoo. And that was it. All I asked was that he not give me the silent treatment and shut down the communication. I didn't ask him to change his mind about the tattoo. I didn't tell him he was wrong.
He is speaking to me again. In fact, we're laughing and wrestling, and being silly again, almost like it never happened. But the tattoo is still there, a visual reminder of the pain he feels, a pain which I now feel, too. And now I must resolve my own inner conflict: if I had it to do over again, would I do it? Yes, no, maybe. I don't know yet. I'm still ruminating on this one.
