The Rage That Makes Me a Mom I Never Wanted to Be, by Elli

My dear boy,

The love between us runs so deep. Could that be why you can hurt me the way you sometimes do? Could it be that we're more alike than it feels right now?

When you're asleep in your bed at night, I sometimes walk over and feel again how deeply, how fiercely I love you. My kid! You smell so good. You look so heart-meltingly cute. I need these moments right now, because things aren't easy between us.

Never, not once in my life, did I think this could happen to me. Anger at my own child. Real, roaring anger. Nobody knows how to push my buttons like you do, not your siblings, not your dad. I'm really not an angry person at all! The opposite, actually: I need harmony. But right now you're dictating a family life that makes me sad.

Often you snap at us the moment you wake up: "Leave me alone! I'm not going to school!" At breakfast you snarl at your sister: "Go away, you have bad breath." When you get home from school, you keep poking. And of course your siblings jump right in. "You can't even do THAT problem? Ha, you're so dumb!" Boom, everybody's up and chasing each other around the house. And when your brother's head ends up against the door handle, yes, that's when I get really angry too.

"Can you PLEASE just stop?" "What on earth has gotten into you that you have to stir up so much trouble?" "Do you WANT to wear us all down every single day?" It makes me want to scream into a pillow. And still I try to calm myself down and explain it the gentle way. "Listen, when you're kind to the people around you, they're kind to you back." "Don't care," you say. And you laugh at me. And I have to pull myself together again, and I look over at your two siblings, who once again aren't getting the attention they deserve.

It's all just a phase, yeah, yeah. I know. You can be magical. Your teacher says you're a wonderful student, always kind, helping the others, cheerful. So why do you have to go completely wild at home?

I have good days and I have more stressful days. I'm only human. When you catch me with this kind of stunt on a stressful day, when Dad is away on a business trip, when I've packed lunches first thing in the morning, dropped you all at school, raced to the office, and then raced straight back to pick you up, and then planned something fun to cheer you all up even though I desperately need a break, and then you pull this, all I want to do is cry. Why are you like this? What are you trying to tell me?

You know what? I think you're a very special kid. I know that. You have incredible energy. And when we've finally found a way to steer that energy in the right direction, something truly wonderful is going to come out of it. But as long as you use that energy to split us apart, I'm close to despair.

Then I send you to your room and you don't go. You run off instead, wanting me to chase you. But I'll tell you something: I'm not playing along. I don't get pulled into those games. At some point, enough is enough. And as you run away, you swat your brother in the back on your way past. And then I grab you so you can't run, even though it goes against everything I believe in, and I get louder, and then I cry too, so you'll see what your behavior is doing, and I carry you up to your room, and then you kick the door, and suddenly I can't hear anything anymore.

I walk into your room and you're lying on the bed crying, and you say, "I always get blamed for everything in this family," and I don't know what to say, because honestly, almost every bit of the bickering lately does start with you. And then suddenly you've flipped the switch and you're the son I know and love again. And I gently rub your back, and already I can't say why it had to blow up like that yet again.

You realize it yourself: whoa, I think I went too far. Boom, you're back to your old self. You draw me little apology notes, you hug me, you're soft again, you offer to make pancakes for everyone. And I can finally breathe for a second. And I know what a great person you are.

But the guilt stays, over my helplessness and the yelling and the anger. Often even overnight.

I've thought so much about why it keeps coming to this. There are better phases and worse ones, but they keep coming back, and have for about two years now. Are you overwhelmed? Not challenged enough? Unfortunately I can't see a pattern in your outbursts, or I would have known long ago how to help us.

So for now, all I can do is find all the love I feel for you again at night, standing by your bed. Because it's there, I promise you. How many times have I told you: "Even when Mom is mad, the love is always still there." And that's how it is, sweetheart. I wouldn't be worrying this much if I didn't love you so much. You're a great guy, super athletic, super popular, super smart, just really super.

We just have to figure out how to steer your energy in the right direction in the afternoons, too. You know what? I'm convinced: it'll be okay. Maybe writing this down was the first step. I believe in you so much. I'm your mom, after all. And we'll get through this.

With love, Mom