Do you remember the classic “Far Side” cartoon by Gary Larson that has the funky woman talking a blue streak to her dog, and it shows what the dog hears? The dog only hears, “blah blah blah blah, Ginger. blah blah blah blah, Ginger.” It’s 2:30 and I can’t sleep. I got up to write and was greeted by a 1500 word email that was written by Mark.
__________
At the risk of further cementing my membership in the loosely knit Association of Homeschooling Weirdos, I have to tell you what I most love about this homeschooling business. There is nothing quite like being there when they first grasp a concept. I get to be there when that light bulb goes off, and they understand what’s in front of them, and they are filled with pride and possibility. It’s like the looks on their faces when they learn to tie their shoes or ride a bike. It’s something I don’t want to miss.
A few weeks ago, I was helping Will with fractions. I love math. I love the fluidity and fuzzy boundaries of dealing with people and relationships. But when I’m in over my head with that relationship crap, I like to turn to something certain, like math. Even Will says he likes math because, “There’s one right answer.” Sometimes it’s nice to know there is ONE right answer. So we were adding different fractions with different denominators and I was explaining that you have to “get the fractions speaking in the same language – in the same denominator.” I have a decent understanding of what their learning styles are, and what approaches work best for helping them learn. But, I was having a bit of a struggle with the fractions. I put my pencil down, walked out into the living room to take a deep breath, and figure out a new approach, and I came back with a new angle. Suddenly the light bulb went off, and he whizzed through the rest of the exercise. It was fun for both of us. We found a common language, and it was a thing of beauty.
NEWS FLASH: There is NO common language with a narcissist.
It had to happen. Mark called and left a message last evening. I told the kids that I would return his call for them. I asked them what messages they’d like me to deliver. They said, “We are tired of being treated like little kids. He promised to stop with the voice, and he didn’t keep his promise. Tell him we’ll call him and spend time with him when he decides to treat us like the big kids we are.”
That was fun. When I delivered the message he said, “I AM THE DAD.” I’ve lost patience with this whole thing, I’m tired of being the middle woman, and I really don’t give a rip, so I said, “Then act like one.” He asked if he could come over and discuss this latest wrinkle, the kids said, “NO!”
He wrote what can only be described as ‘The Great American Email’. This is a reference to Mark’s greatness and the length of the email. It listed every specific detail that he thinks proves why he is a father to be admired. He gave examples of how people commented on how cute his kids are, and how these folks smiled at him, noticed how he interacted with his kids, and offered to take pictures of his darling little family. Again, I have to tell you that I’m not making this up. Do you see that his whole damn email was about how his relating to his kids appeared to the outside world? blah blah blah.
I gave some consideration to responding to his lengthy email. I thought about it for about 30 seconds. And then I thought about teaching Will fractions. And then I thought about how damned frustrating it is to try to explain anything to Mark. It’s what it must feel like to speak to a Russian when you don’t speak Russian and your native language is Spanish. I talk louder. I e-nun-ci-ate my words. I draw pictures – @&#%. I send emails. I try to be funny. I try to be dramatic. I refer to visual aids.
The light bulb NEVER goes off with Mark. All he hears is, “blah blah blah blah, Mark. blah blah blah blah, Mark.”
The kids are sending him emails today. I’m done.
Tags: all about me, child of narcissist, divorce, humor, narcissism, narcissist behavior, narcissistic behavior, NPD, proactive, survive
