His brain is short-circuiting, and as a co-parent, I have the privilege of blaming this on the other household. I hypothesize he’s not getting enough sleep because when he gets here, he has deep lines under his eyes just like a sleepy character in a comic strip. His exhaustion, and erratic mood, corrects itself over the time he’s with me since we’re going to bed at eight, but that first day or two can be rough.
This week it happens every time his sister says something that includes “my new phone,” which is often, but last week it had to do with Temu. Temu, the new sensation of our house, started out as great fun. We found the best deals, and I’m convinced they sell some of the same beauty products you find at Ulta/Sephora because Kiki found Lip Oil on Temu for $3, and we went to Ultra and it was the exact same bottle, label and all, on the $40 Dior Lip Oil.
Geoffrey started browsing on Temu, and his adrenaline spiked. The countdown timer and the deals were giving him the same feeling James Holzhauer gets when he steps on a casino floor. What made him addicted to the app was when it said, if you ask someone to join, you will get $100 in free merchandise. He picked out a robot vacuum, Switch controllers, and more after he sent requests out from my phone. He then had the 24-hour countdown on his mind and needed to check the app incessantly and call my family to see that they joined after he texted them the link.
A shady thing happened, after each person he asked signed up, there were three, he was always a few points shy of getting his free stuff. It’s a mean marketing tactic, where G was left chasing the dragon. He’s a kid, and can’t accept when an ad says they’re going to give you a bunch of free stuff, it is most likely bullshit.
He took this poorly, and instead of saying, “I’m really frustrated because my hopes were high I was getting a treasure trove, and I can’t believe anything Temu says,” he decided he’d slam his bedroom door, and throw things.
This is Uber-disturbing because he’s not processing his thoughts in a productive way, and he is taking any uncomfortable emotion, and assigning it straight to rage. I’ll keep talking to him about this, but until this gets straightened out with maturity and discussion, I will just blame it on the lack of sleep he gets at his dad’s house.
I love how Geoffrey gets so invested. He’s a big dreamer and goes all in. I know how he’ll recover from the trauma of his sister getting a cell phone, he’ll convince himself an even better phone is coming to him very soon. It started last night when we went to bed, he asked, “Mom, are you sure Santa is real?”
Then he told me about a book Bridge to Terabithia, and how he was skeptical, but if Santa is real, he’s bringing him an iPhone 15 for Christmas.
I’m a big dreamer like Geoffrey, and it can lead me into some questionable places, where if I don’t keep my head on, I can float away into a fairytale based on modern mysticism.
In January, I was binging Jack Canfield's content and reading Think and Grow Rich, so I started a mastermind group with my cousin. In our last meeting, we pointed out how much we’ve accomplished this year. Then she told me about the new car she bought after starting her new job, and said, “Alicia, it has 18 cupholders! I feel like I’m driving a small rocket ship.”
Life coaches, like Canfield, hold seminars that vary in intensity from hand-holding hippie sound baths, to sequestered in a hotel conference room for three days with little sleep and hydration. My older sister attended the latter and is the only person I know who found a self-help retreat to be torturous and complete bullshit. She felt duped, just as Geoffrey had been by Temu.
My sister went with my little brother, and they were separated upon arrival. At one point the group had to give speeches about what they would do if they had ten million dollars. My sister infuriated the life coach by simply stating in her speech, “If I won ten million dollars, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
She sat down, and the coach pressed her, saying “Not telling anyone isn’t an option, give another speech about what you would do with ten million dollars.”
She doubled down, “All these people will be broke in a few years, and I’m still going to be rich because I didn’t go blabbing my mouth about it.”
She knew the tactics used by the life coach were cultish. He had everyone disclose their darkest secrets, this was mostly childhood trauma, and when it came to her turn to share, she felt like a kid in a confession booth, and just made something up about being mean to one of her siblings. I was horrified but laughing when she said, “I shit you not, at one point they had us stand in a circle and wanted everyone to kiss. It was disgusting.”
After a final messy argument, the weekend ended with my sister and her life coach being enemies for life.
My sister is sensible. She’s not going to let false impersonations of rolling around in money like you’ve just fucked Woody Harrelson for a one-time fee keep her from staying grounded.
I remember when I had the audiobook playing Think and Grow Rich, and Geoffrey came in. He heard the promise of money and was hooked. He grabbed a notepad and started taking notes. I stopped whatever it was I was doing, and thought, that’s a great idea. I should be taking notes too.
thanks for sharing this with us brother
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