What is drowning me

The grieving I seem to have never done, or never done adequately when I learned my beautiful boy would have lifelong issues.

The time when Monster was about 5, when I commented on my support board that the thought of staying home alone with Monster all day every day through the summer made me feel that I couldn’t breathe – I knew I couldn’t do it – and how one of the women on the board commented, “this makes me sad for Monster.” And I wonder exactly what sort of mother I really am that I would not be thrilled at this thought of all this time with my child.

The idea that I have Monster in two – not just one, but two – different classroom settings that I still am not convinced are the best places for him, but see no other options, and don’t know how I will ever know if these places are good for him until after the fact, when it’s too late to change.

The idea that Monster is 6 and still so attached to me, as if I have turned him into a needy Mama’s boy who will not learn how to stand on his own.

The thought that Hubby and I are more like co-parents and less like a couple. It’s been this way forever but it’s something that really came to light this weekend.

What my son did yesterday. His feral friends had company so he asked me to invite R over. Feral friends show up and suddenly it’s a circus in our yard. Hubby tries to send them away and R throws a tantrum and threatens to get “really angry” if the ferals aren’t allowed to stay. So they stay because R needs to be either placated or sent home, and I could have sent them all home and left Monster friendless, but it seemed too much like punishing M for something he found himself in the middle of. But then M came in asking for water. I made him two water bottles with ice water and told him to give one to R, since the ferals can go home to get something to drink if they want. He gives the second bottle to A, the feral sister, “because he loves her”. I am furious with him for
A) not doing what I asked
B) not being respectful toward his guest
C) choosing his feral everyday friend over his special guest that he requested to come over

He only asked for R because his friends were supposedly unavailable. I had to put my foot down last night and tell him no treat tonight, and then he screamed at me and told me to shut up. Then I sent him to his room. I told him no more ferals when you invite guests over. They WILL be sent away as soon as they show up. Monster replies, “well, if R wants them over…” and I don’t know what to do about that. The ferals don’t understand R. He gets along fine with Monster and the two play wonderfully together. But the ferals do to him what they do to my M – stir him up, make him nervous and restless, say hurtful things. And my M makes me more angry because he starts playing with the ferals as if R doesn’t even exist. I was forced to go out regularly and ask R, are they playing with you? Are they being nice? After finding him alone in the playhouse while M and the ferals rode their bikes around.

Today the grief seems not such a huge tidal wave coming at me. It seems instead to have already hit, and it settles around me and laps at my legs and I can’t wade through it don’t know which way shore is don’t even know if there is a shore anymore.I can’t be disappointed in my son for being who he is. And I sometimes don’t know when I cross that line. He needs to be taught to be respectful of others for sure. But aside from my total confusion about how better to handle yesterday is my sudden anger that arises from nowhere and sweeps over both of us. The other evening M got home from school and we were talking and I made him laugh and he wet himself a little. And I sent him to his room and told him to get changed. Hubby called and I was talking to him and Monster was calling for help and I ignored him, because Monster claims to need my help 95% of the time and maybe 5% of that time he really DOES need it. I finally got off the phone and went to check on him and he had peed onto his bed and all over the floor. I was furious. I was so angry I couldn’t think straight. I yelled. I asked him what the hell was he thinking, doesn’t he have any sense, etc. But then when I retold the story a friend pointed out that I should have sent him into the bathroom, since knowing some had come out, the rest was close behind. And M had his hi-tops and orthotics on, and even I have trouble getting those off. Asking M to do it, quickly, so he could get his clothes changed, was just stupid of me. So here was just one example of the ways I fail my son. I lead him the wrong way and then blow my stack when he does what I say but it’s the wrong thing.
I apologized. I always apologize. But how many times do I get to say “I’m sorry” before he stops believing me? Why does he have to love me so much? I fail him so often. I wonder why I was given this child who was obviously meant for someone with more patience, more common sense, more understanding. All I can do is love him more than life itself. And it doesn’t feel like nearly enough.