More lowlights in parenting

Sometimes, as a parent, less is more.  Less explanation, more authority.  Less spoiling, more austerity.  More love, less order.  In theory, anyway.

A few weeks ago, I asked E to help with some chores.  Not big chores, mind you, but household work necessary to keep things running.  Unfortunately, I asked him in the middle of a TV show.  So, what I got was E storming in to the kitchen, ripping at the garbage bag, bitching about taking it out to the can, and telling me that I was the worst mom in the history of the known universe.

He punctuates the argument with, "you're such a whore."

This, naturally, sends me into a huge diatribe:  you can't speak that way to your mother, about women, about prostitutes.  Do you even know what that means?  Why do you think a woman would be compelled to have sex with a stranger for money?  Do you know why that's so offensive?  Do you know what kind of male chauvinism and misogyny is behind that statement?  Do you understand that degrading others does not elevate yourself?  Where did you hear that?  What have you been watching on TV?  Which of your friends said that?  You're never going to be friends with that kid again!  Whore?  Because I asked you to take out the trash?  We are a family, we work together to make things work in this house.  Every one contributes.  It's not my job, just because I stay at home doesn't make me your slave.  We are fortunate that I can even stay home, but that still means you live in the real world.  You think your friends don't have chores?  You think they call their mothers filthy words?  Do you even know the complicated educational, sociological, and economic factors that contribute and perpetuate prostitution?  That it is a symptom of a system that subjugates and demeans women?  That this is the same thinking behind your ill conceived notion that I have to work for you?

I'm yelling now.  I'm throwing words at him that leave him looking stunned, a little dazed.  Perhaps even confused.  I don't care.  I want him to understand that woman hating and name calling will NOT fly in my home.  HE WILL UNDERSTAND, DAMMIT.

Eventually, he takes out the trash. Sullenly, he comes inside and heads to the office to pull down a dictionary.

"H-O-R-R-O-R.  Mom, I don't think that word means what you think it does."

"OH.  Horror.  Yeah.  Well, forget everything I just said."