Sometimes I feel this is all too hard, and I’ll never be a good or even decent father. Sometimes I feel that I must be doing far worse than my parents even did, and that is so far away from what I want to be that I don’t even know how to deal with it other than to hide, run away, ignore it, distract myself with other things.

Sometimes I run out of hope that I’ll ever have enough patience, or that I’ll survive my kids’ childhood.

This is the very thing I wrestle with in my reactions (and believe me, they are “reactions,” not thought out responses) to Elliot when I wind up slapping his butt for biting me or slapping his hands for grabbing the used tea bags off the counter and squeezing them all over. Saying, “You will not bite your mother” and then losing it and grabbing him too forcefully or slapping his butt has all sorts of logic problems. So why is it there are times I feel I can’t help myself?

It’s good to read about your experience with discipline issues, both how you were disciplined and how you find yourself doing so. I find myself frightened by my own anger sometimes, whether expressed or repressed in the heat of the moment. Regardless, I feel its presence.

I remember being afraid of my father, though I don’t remember excessive physical punishment. I knew that he had it in him to whip me, and I did get the belt when I was younger, but mostly it was his physical and verbal demeanor that stopped me (or if it didn’t stop me, made me hide something I’d done, even accidentally, for fear of consequences). That’s what I don’t want from Elliot. I want him to trust me, to not feel fear.

Perhaps what bothers me most is his inability to look me in the eyes or to talk about what he’s done, or even just listen to me say “it’s ok. I love you,” in that moment when an episode is over and we’re just talking and not fighting.

I told that story to Brendan again, tonight, as I put him to bed. I think he was asleep before I finished it, but I left out the part where my Dad whipped me and said that he just sent me to my room. It seemed to tidy up the moral of the story a bit more. I don’t know if Brendan gets it or not. Probably not yet. The best I can do is repeat and repeat and repeat until he does get it. I have a therapist appointment tomorrow, and there is going to be a lot to talk about, believe me.

I know from my childhood and my experiences raising my daughters how difficult it can be to be patient and to explain ourselves, but my advice would be that’s what you need to work on with Brendan. Practice stopping and explaining in a reasonable tone what it is you want him to do, and in the process model for him what it is you want him to do. I know, easier said than done, but there it is.