What the what???? Say it isn't so

Well, it finally happened! Two kids and almost 11 years of parenting, Monday morning was a first.

My sensitive, sweet baby boy (who is 7 by the way) told me for the first time in his little life that he didn’t love me.

In all honesty, neither one of my kids have ever said that to me, or gasp, said the ever hurtful “I hate you.”  So it shocked me to hear it come from his sweet little lips.

I knew eventually it would happen, all kids go through it.  What shocked me was the fact that there was no reason for it, or so I initially thought.

Having the house to ourselves as my daughter was away with a friend on a mini vacation, my son and I decided to build a fort and stay up watching his favourite tv shows.  We snuggled, ate chips and giggled.  We talked about his weekend with his dad.  All was well, we fell asleep in a heap together on the floor in the fort and woke up smiling.

The usual morning routine ensued.  Get shower, get dressed, prepare breakfast, made lunches, brush teeth.  As I called him to come and get his shoes on so we could head out the door, BAM, it happened.

He looked at me with huge tears spilling out of his eyes, his bottom lip quivering.  All of a sudden, the kid had a ‘stomach ache’. 

Since we were running a wee bit late already, and against my better instincts, I rushed him along, saying he would be “fine.”  I know I really dislike when people brush me off with a “you’re fine”, so I should have taken a moment to choose my words more carefully.

Out of nowhere I have to dodge a flying back pack as he hurls his bag at me, tears flowing, and says “I don’t love you anymore.  I want ro be with daddy.”  He didn’t shout at me, he didn’t even waiver.  He looked me right in the eye and broke my heart.

I could have gotten angry, I didn’t.  I could have cried, but I held it in.  I could have demanded an apology and ordered him into the car.  I didn’t do that either. 

What I did do was took a deep breath, scoop him up in my arms and sat on the landing of the stairs. 

He sat in my lap and cried, his little body shaking, his breath ragged.  I held on to him tight and stroked his hair. 

I explained to him that I had to go to work today, he had to head off to camp and that if he still felt sick later this morning, I could be reached by phone and I would come to get him.

He looked at me and said that he lied, he didn’t have a stomach ache.  I played along pretending to be shocked.  I gently asked him to talk to me about what was bothering him.  I reminded him that keeping  “worry bugs” in his tummy wasn`t good and talking always makes things better. 

After a discussion about the lack of rules, structure or any predictability at all when with his dad, we discovered that, contrary to his father’s beliefs, my sensitive boy isn’t coping well with the transition from dad’s place to home.  It really hasn’t been an issue in the last year and you would think that he would be used to the routine by now.  For whatever the reason, this was the day that the flood gates opened.

This is where the “I want daddy” part comes in.  Daddy has no schedule on the weekend, mommy has a job and camps and kid`s schedules during the week day to adhere to.  It's a rough transition between 24 hour fun time and the weekly grind of routine.

I am the peace keeper, the rule enforcer, I always have been.  When the kids are with their dad, it is chaos.  Late nights, day trips, eating/drinking whatever they want, shopping for toys, large amounts of pop at 9pm because “it’s dollar drink days and they were thirsty”, no schedules, no rules, no consequences.  It’s actually quite frustrating because number one, I can’t say anything about it and number two, I am left to deal with the aftermath of every free for all weekend. 

The question I have is…why am I the only one taking responsibility for the raising of our kids?  We all have responsibilities.  To our jobs, our families, our friends, our planet, ourselves, even to our fellow man.  It’s part of being a grown up.  What about the responsibility of raising our children?  By all means, have fun with your kids, treat them (occasionally), do fun things, but for the love of all things holy, be a parent!!! 

During our married life, I was the ruler maker, he was the rule breaker.  The good cop, bad cop routine worked for us.  We were a team and the kids always knew that no matter what, mom and dad were on the same page.  Things are different now, mom and dad are not on the same page, or even in the same library anymore and he actually has to parent these children on his own.  The kids are confused, dad is trying to buy their love out of guilt and mom is tired and frustrated.

 Now, I can hear some of you…”just because he doesn’t parent the way you do, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”  Blah, blah, blah, whatever.  I am not complaining about the way he parents (when he actually pulls it off he is a great dad) I am complaining about the lack of respect and good judgement when you are 100% responsible while your kids are in your care.  

I am talking about the absence of discipline, the disregard for limits and the lack of common sense.  I am not talking about let`s have cereal for supper, I am talking about `forgetting` your kids at a ball diamond at 10 pm kind of responsibility.  I could provide a hundred different examples, but I am not going to.  

Maybe I am totally wrong, but I don’t think so.

Those of you who know me and my family well will say he never knew what the word responsibility really meant anyway.  Very true.  However, when faced with the task of parenting on your own, you would hope that some sense of personal ownership of responsibility would kick in.

There`s always hope, right?

Ok, fast forward to the sobbing boy sitting in my lap. 

I kissed his little face, wiped away his tears and told him I appreciate how hard it must be to find his place in this new family.  I told him I loved him.  And that was enough for him. 

He asked me if he should apologize for saying he didn’t love me anymore.  He cried and asked me to forgive him, telling me he didn’t really mean it.  We talked about using different words and ways to describe our feelings, but we should never apologize for how we feel.    Because in that moment, he did want to be with his dad.  I wasn’t about to downplay his feelings or make him feel bad for saying what he needed to say. 

I told him that we need to acknowledge our feelings and be true to ourselves.  Feelings can be good or not so good, and no matter what, we need to take responsibility for the words we choose to describe those feelings.  Something I am always telling my kids, and I am sure they are sick of hearing it, is:  “Take responsibility for the energy you bring to any space.”  I follow that rule myself.  I think it’s important to be aware of that responsibility.

I told my son that it’s ok to feel angry, to feel hurt, to feel upset, to feel confused, but take responsibility for those feelings!  You can’t control what other people say or do to you, but you can control your reaction.  Hard stuff for a 7 year old to understand, even harder for some adults who like to lay blame. 

All I can do is my best…to give what I have and be proud of the gifts I have been given.