| ...a day in the life of a mouse |
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| ...a day in the life of a mouse |
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2006-01-26 - 9:07 a.m. Sometimes I just want to run away. Even from the ones I love. No…particularly from the ones I love. That sounds cruel, doesn’t it? But it’s true. Because sometimes the ones you love cause you the most pain. The ironic thing is, if you didn’t love them so much, the things they did wouldn’t hurt you. Being a mother. It’s true that it is the single most amazing thing I have ever done…or will ever do. But at the same time, it is the most excruciatingly painful thing I could ever imagine. Not just the giving birth. Compared to the rest, labour was a blessing. No, what I am talking about are all the millions of things each and every day that cause me pain. Some of them are like a multitude of tiny needles, darting in and out at random, inflicting tiny, fleeting, stabbing pains. Worries for his safety, worries for his health – physical/mental/emotional/spiritual! Have I done enough for him? Have I said/done/felt the right things? Will he always respect me? And then there are all the memories of all the things you did wrong. Wishing these memories would die, because they serve no purpose other than to hurt me. He certainly doesn’t remember that time when he was 3 years old and I smacked his little hand for spilling something, when all he was trying to do was help. But I remember. Just about every day I remember something like that. Each time, those memories tear at my heart a little and make it bleed. It’s easy being a mother, when things are good. When the sun is out and there is nothing to do but draw on the sidewalk with chalk, blow bubbles off the balcony, and squirt each other with the hose. But what about when things are NOT so good? And you have to do/say something that will bring tears? That you have to explain that things hurt right now because you made a bad decision and now it’s affecting everyone? Or when he comes home in tears because people are cruel and hurtful for no good reason. How do you erase a hurt like that? Where do you go to learn the right things to say to make everything okay again? And then there are the times when he has done something wrong. Punishment is a very difficult thing. I don’t want to be the Law. I don’t want to have to enforce the Rules. I don’t want to be the Bad Guy. Ever. Knowing that it is necessary to provide consequences for broken rules doesn’t make it any easier. Knowing that I am trying to teach him honesty and integrity and the value of hard work doesn’t stop me from seeing the look on his face/in his eyes when I have to tell him he did something Wrong. That look kills me just a little bit inside. Part of me wants to ignore it. And never have to say “No”, or set bedtimes, or make him eat vegetables. I never want to be the one to tell him what he did was not good enough, even if it wasn’t. That part of me asks if it would really be so bad for him not to have any rules. But really, do I want to take that chance with his life, with his future? Maybe he’d be just fine if I let him be, if I let him do whatever he wanted and trusted that his judgment at 14 is good enough to sustain him for the rest of his life. But what if I’m wrong? What if all it does is teach him that life has no consequences and that he does not have to be accountable to anyone for anything? Will he take advantage of that and become selfish, heartless and cruel even? This is not something I can do over. He only has the one life, and I am terrified of doing something to make it less than what it could be…of what it should be. It seems that my own happiness is hinged inexorably on his. If I fail this child, I have in effect, failed myself. These are the thoughts that keep me awake at night. These are the thoughts that bring tears to my eyes unbidden. Who would have thought that from the very moment of his conception, someone else would own my heart? 
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