The worse part about being a Mom…

I can feel a lump swelling in my throat as I speak, trying to use my firmest “Mom Voice”

My eyes are stinging.

I blink, over and over again to fight back tears.

This is so hard.

I hate this part.

Ethan is in trouble again at school, and now he is in trouble at home.

I don’t really know if I’m doing the right thing, but what I’ve read says discipline is key.

So I sternly lay out guidelines and rules, and take away his video game and some of his toys.

“This is just the beginning,”

I explain, threatening the loss of more things unless he improves.

And he cries.

The way only a child can.

I hate it.

I want to go to him so badly.

Tell him it will be ok and that I’m on his side.

Explain to him that all that I’m doing is only because of my deep love for him and my desire for him to do better.

But I can’t.

And its hurts me so much.

I must be firm.

He throws himself on the floor in tears and it tears me up inside.

All of this is because he will not complete his work at school, and we don’t know why this has suddenly started.

His teacher is at a loss and we are left bewildered at the disappearance of our obedient, school work-completing child.

After several weeks of bad behavior, something has to be done.

I leave him there, sitting on his bed in a slump, head hanging.

Going into my bedroom, I barely shut the door before I’m sobbing.

I grab a pillow to muffle the sounds, hating that can’t hold it together long enough to get through a proper, ‘your in big trouble mister’ speech.

But I can’t.

I’m heartbroken at the sight of my 6 year old in pieces.

At the thought that maybe his teacher is missing something, or maybe we are.

What if I’m inadequate in some way that has lead to all of this, what if my parenting is flawed, and as a result child suffers?

What if????

I pull my face from the pillow and survey the mascara smeared across the ivory pillowcase.

When is Hank coming home?

I need him right now.

This is definitely the worst part about being a Mom.

The pain.

The fear.

It’s right there with the nauseas feeling I get at the thought that one day, if I’m not watching him close enough, he will take his bike out in front of a car and I will lose him forever.

It’s that feeling that makes me always stand out there watching, every time he goes for a ride.

It’s that feeling that makes me punish him for being bad at school, so he does better, so he learns.

Its love.