A Mother’s curse

Every mother says it, wishes it on their children.  You know it before I type it, you are saying it to yourself….”When you have children, I hope you have one that acts just like you.”

The more that I think of that statement, the more I dislike it.  Children are not a curse, nor is their behavior something to wish upon another.  There are times that my children act like little monsters…stomping around the house, throwing toys, muttering curses under their breath that they have no intention of executing.

This morning, like most mornings with my oldest,  I awake with bated breath.  I wonder how wound up he is going to be.  I wonder if the breakfast he is given will meet his expectations….I approach every morning like walking on eggshells.  I wonder if he will remember his bag, where his gloves are that i sent with him yesterday, will the outfit be ok for him today….I try each day and night to anticipate the frustrations that may result in full fledged temper tantrum from an almost 8 year old.  Most mornings he is up before i go in to wake him, I know he is up because he is running throw the house at Mac 10, screaming for something….Usually I am too comatose to fully understand his desire.  With breakfast comes the first installment of his meds.  Right now the focus is on attention and helping him calm down a bit.  If the frustration level for him raises too high, then we see the battle within him rage.  Highly intelligent and perceptive, he is able to see more in a situation than many usually acknowledge.  This compounds the need to be on pins and needles.

His rage, when it shows itself is something that I cannot control.  There are times I can do nothing but place him on my lap and rock with him as I did when he was a baby.  Back and forth I rock and whisper into his ear and pray that the time will be shorter next time.  Luckily, the times of rage are decreasing.  You see, this is not the kind of behavior that I would wish my sons experience with their children.  It hurts to see him when he is out of control.  It hurts  my soul, my whole being when he says terrible things about himself…that he is crap and that all people hate him.  It tears at my heart to know how intelligent and tenderhearted he is, and then to watch him give up so easily on something because he can’t focus.  I don’t wish that on his children.

I remember my own areas of frustration as a child and my temper tantrums over what seemed “global” issues.  I remember being angry enough to see red and feeling like no one understood me, I don’t wish that on my child.  There are moments etched in my mind that speak of great peace and calm and creativity. That is what I wish for my children.  There are also moments that are murky and dark, and filled with questions and frustrations….I do not wish those on my children.  I pray their path be filled with light and wonder.

I look at my oldest son and I can feel his pain, his lack of focus, the desire he has to do it perfectly…I wish I could take it from him.  I was never diagnosed with an attention deficit…I probably should have.  I watch and I wait for him to calm, I pound my head, looking for solutions that may make the journey a bit easier…I try to smooth out the rough spots and anticipate as much as I can.  I wake each morning, hoping this morning will be a better morning.  Instead of the screaming and running around the house, he could settle into his morning with a smile and a hug as he takes off for his day.  Then again, it is what it is.




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