The consequences of punching a wall

Originally posted on my old blog, archived here for posterity.

Another tale of raising an 80-year old kid...

My hand hurts.

Of course, when one proceeds to punch a hard wall (although, in my defense, it was carpeted and I believed it to be well paded...which it wasn't), one should expect pain afterwards.

Punching things isn't the smartest thing to do, but when you're angry, upset, or mad, rational thought isn't exactly at the forefront of one's mind.

But yeah, I punched a wall today...all right, it was more of a partition...and now I'm paying for it. My hand's swollen, and while my pinkie hurts, I do have full range of motion and can use my hand, albiet with only a minor amount of pain.

So, I'll bet you're wondering what could nake me do something really stupid like punch a partition?

My kid. If you're not sure what I'm referring to, please check my last journal entry.

My kid has an obsession with the yard. If it's messy, uncut, out of sorts, she hates it. Wait...this is a good use of bold...hates it. With a passion. And I won't hear the end of it until the grass is cut and everything looks neat.

Well, it's getting close to Winter. Days are shorter. I haven't had time to cut the grass, and I figured it was going to get covered with snow soon, so there was no sense in cutting the grass.

My kid figured otherwise.

She called me at lunchtime and told me she'd cut the grass. Needless to say, I went ballistic.

I was so mad, I couldn't talk to her. I had to put down the phone and walk it off.

Please let me state this before I go further: Yes, I have a temper, but 99% of the time, I can keep it under control. When I do feel the need to express it, I generally kick things, always inanimate objects, like doors, walls and boxes. I was so...angry...that I had to lash out at something, and the victim of my blind anger was a discarded partition wall.

What can I say? It had carpeting on it. I thought it was padded...but I was proven wrong.

It was the first time in my 38 years on this planet I ever truly...really and truly...punched something with all my strength. Probably the last time I'll do it too.

I called my kid back to apologize. She'd been crying...she knew I was upset with her, and couldn't understand why. I told her I shouldn't have been angry, and I was sorry.

She couldn't remember why I was angry with her...

I told her she'd told me she went to cut the grass. She can't see that well and she can't walk that well, and carrying a heavy (electric) lawnmower up the stairs from our basement might have been deadly...that, more than anything, was what upset me.

I've assured her I'm not mad at her. She's accepted it, and she's trying to calm back down.

So, right now, my hand hurts. There's a good bit of swelling, but I can still type. I'll consider this a reminder than, when you have kids, you've gotta take your time and be rational, not angry, because there are always consequences to our actions.

I'll get the hang of this parenting thing yet.