I overheard my 9 year old son the other day, in his fit of emotion, cursing me under his breath. “I hate her. I wish she would just die.” He had ripped all of the books off of his bookshelf in his fit of rage and was now placing them, one by one, back on. I had disciplined him from video gaming during the school week because his attention and obedience lacked while playing, and quite frankly, I was sick of asking more than once.
I’ll admit, it hurt my feelings to hear my sweet son talk this way about me, his loving mother. He is the kind one. The gentle boy. The one with the big heart. Could he really hate me like that? I let it slide for the time being, but pondered it in my heart for many days after. But today I recorded a response to his fit in the journal I keep for him.
Here is my reply:
“… I hope you know that it is my job, as your mother, to do whatever I feel necessary to protect you and help you be your best self. Gaming ALL of the time is not best, and you know it, you just can’t choose it for yourself. That’s why I do. I get to do the difficult things as your mother. And you should know now that I will absolutely, 100% fight you all of the way for what is best for you. I WILL NOT let you go! I feel way too strongly about your potential and purpose in life to just sit back and watch you wither up and waste away to an unproductive life. Not on my watch!!! So get mad if you want to get mad. Call me names if you want. Wish me to die … I don’t care. It will not stop me from doing my duty as your mother!”
Oh, the joys of parenting! You have to know the pain to know the pleasure. Know the sadness to know the joy. And Commit. Commit. Commit.
