The Etiquette of the Parental Reprimand

Okay, so I need a second opinion here.

I think that if you completely ignore your parents’ yelling at you, you can’t hold a grudge about being yelled at. Either they made a polite suggestion that you are free to ignore and thus no hard feelings, they expressed their feelings as fellow housemates and you successfully dissuaded them from continuing the discussion making you the winner so being gracious would be appropriate, or they are your parents, they clothe and feed you and have just spent a fortune on a course for you and maybe you could at least listen to their politely couched complaints before shooting them down with a onslaught of vitriol before silencing them with an implicit threat to be too upset to attend class or if not at least not punish us for the rest of the day for daring to question your aggressive outburst of the previous evening.

Okay so that was as clear as mud. I mean I actually pride myself on my ability to rack up the word count without getting anything said but this time I want an opinion.

So, the situation: 17 year old female with Autism Spectrum Disorder, Dyslexia, Attention Deficit Disorder, Hyperflexion and a temper that rivals a volcano. She is a Scorpio, I mean if you read about Scorpios; sting in the tail, flaring temper, epic ability to carry a grudge, can kill with a single fiery flash from their eyes, deadly poison… I need to stop; she is my child.

Disclaimer

I am a Piscean raised by an Aquarian and a Leo, a good quiet little depressive who wouldn’t say ‘boo’. My husband is a Piscean and in some ways wishier and washier than even me. Older daughters; Pisces, Aries and Virgo. They have issues with violent or aggressive outbursts but only when semi conscious under the pressure of autistic overload. Deliberately yelling down their parents while in their right mind, very, very unlikely.

So my youngest may not be too bad compared to regular humans. But in my experience; Oh My Goodness, she stands up for herself, I can’t cope. So crazed, poison spitting cobra compared to our family. What a polite young woman compared to her peers.

Okay disclaimer done. I came home last night after an evening playing Dungeons and Dragons with Alex, Tab and strangers. It was a lovely evening, we were very sucessful in our quests, everybody was friendly etcetera but we were amongst strangers; so Tabby couldn’t speak for 45 mins and later paced where I couldn’t see her but people came and told me about, Alex stuttered and then hid under the table and I shook, stuttered and dug my fingernails into parts of me. We had had a bad week and we were not alone at home, that is how we, well I think you can call it cope.

So we were in a good mood but edged with anxiety. Gavin drives, we don’t, so he had been out of the house for 35 minutes. Madame had gone to bed, early, without taking her medication. She was asked to come out and take her pills, she was not asleep anyway. She screamed at everyone. She ranted at being roused, she raged at her sister’s incompetence at not providing her with milk in a timely manner, she spat venom at the suggestion she may reduce her volume. And then she went to bed. Collective sigh of relief and nervous laughter.

I promised myself I was going to wait until after her class this afternoon to point out to her that her tone and manner of the evening before had been disproportionately aggressive given the complete lack of opposition. She started her course Wednesday. She has a class each on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, so Friday afternoon would give her 5 days to hate me after my completely unjustifiable complaint.

But, well, you know…

She came out this morning prickly and already irate. She started a tirade about her sister’s incompetence at providing milk, this time the milk tasted funny. So I bit.

“Sweetheart, last night you were a bit aggressive.”

This elicited a tirade of why I was wrong; she had not raised her voice, she had been woken up because I had taken Dad away at the wrong time, her sisters were too thoughtless they had not left enough milk in the cup, they put the refilled cup in the wrong place, Tabby had fetched the milk when she had specifically ordered Cat to do it, they had dared to try and give excuses instead of grovelled apologies, she Tasha had been inconvenienced and disobeyed.

With her imminent class on my mind I dropped it.

Later I asked my husband why Tasha was well being aggressive and avoiding me.

“She hasn’t forgiven you for telling her off.”

“That was telling her off, she shouted me down.”

“That was enough for Tasha.”

But, but…

She won, I lost, why am I being punished?

I know children have rights. But…

Well I’ll fix her. Next month I’ll be 50 and then it will be senior abuse.

Not that that will stop her but I will have the moral high ground. I know I already have the moral high ground, but next month my high ground will be higher. And then I can look down from my high ground and say in a calm and assured voice…

“Yes Tash, sorry Natasha, I mean Madam, I apologise most profusely for not jumping high or far enough when you commanded.”

And I am safe to complain online as she finds everything I write boring unless Cat is in the room and denigrates my writing first in which case she pretends she wants to listen. But neither of them will actually seek out anything I have written.

Shhhhhhhhhhh. I did not write any inflammatory garbage about my youngest daughter on my stupid blog. I promise.