Some days I wish all I had was two cats and an apartment somewhere awesome. Today was one of those days.
I feel a little cheated, to tell you the truth. Because NOWHERE in "What to expect while you're knocked up" or any of those awesome parenting magazines does it mention that you could end up being the parent of "that kid". You know, "that kid." Yeah, the one who is just a hot mess. I think I may have hit the jackpot and have two of them. Of course, one of them is only four. She could still come around. #2, on the other hand, is going to put me in an early grave, and he's only 11.
#2 is hard to love. I do love him, of course. But there are days when it takes every last ounce of effort to do it. He is ornery, argumentative, stubborn, and has wild mood swings. My husband says we don't get along because we are too much alike. (I'm not that ornery. Other than that, he may have a point.)
I think I had unrealistic expectations of kids. I mean, we all do, or the human race would have died out already if we knew what the hell we were getting in to. I guess I was expecting more, um, cooperative children. You know, ones who might not have the same. freaking. argument. about homework every night. Really? I thought we settled this in second grade. You HAVE TO do it. So quit your whining, shut your mouth, and get to it. Or I will go on a Mommy-strike and you'll have to fend for yourself because I don't like half the stuff I do either. And I mean that in the most loving way possible.
I try very hard to be philosophical. He has had all those ups and downs that come with being an Army brat, but just doesn't handle it as well as others. Thanks to the Army, I know all about those things that just about kill me, but end up making me stronger, and being all I can be and so forth. But when the whole family is going Code Red, with #2 leading the way....sigh.
Tonight, I was trying to figure out how this could possibly be part of God's plan for me. Like maybe this was someone else's plan who bears a striking resemblance to me. So I had a brief pity party (brief, because I still had to make everyone's lunch for tomorrow). I came to the conclusion that this must be supposed to teach me about what it means to truly love someone. I love my husband. He's a great guy and (I think) pretty easy to get along with. My other kids are easy to get along with too. #5 and #6 are cupcakes frosted by the devil, but they play the cute card, so people (okay, me too) seem to forget about the mayhem they cause. But #2 is different. I infrequently get anything back from him. I will try to do things for him to make him feel special (not easy in a family this size) and he'll usually snap at me because he is grouchy about something else. It hurts.
But are we like #2 to God? Is that how he sees us? Is that the point here? Are we, so proud in our own ways and certain we control our path, like #2 sometimes? We all get those spiritual nudges sometimes that we push off because that isn't what we want to do.
Maybe I need to learn how to love those who don't naturally receive and reciprocate? Kind of like those spouses whose soldiers came home with TBI or PTSD and are not able to be the spouse they once were, but those superwomen hang on. Or the people that work with addicts or the mentally ill, where you have to do that work for a higher cause because the recipients of your care are likely not going to say thanks.
Not that an extremely difficult kid is like an addict. It's just that most people (me!!) tend not to foster relationships in which effort is poured forth to the point of exhaustion with little or no acknowledgement or reciprocity. I can only hope it will get easier. My husband swears #2 has gotten better over time, but he may have a better view of that, having been gone for a year instead of seeing him everyday. If this is the plan, it must all work out in the end (maybe before he is thirteen?).
