Unconditional Love

I never knew I was capable of unconditional love. Was it in my marriage it? No. Do I have it with my kids? I really did know. How do you know? How do you measure it? What’s the test?

This week, I understood what unconditional love is and that I actually do have it. The ironic thing is that it came in the form of absolute rage and hate. It’s been a tough time for my son and I. Mornings before school are beyond awful. My ‘good morning sweetie’ as I wake him is greeted with the double bird and a ‘get me this, or get me that’. If I get out of bed too loud or turn the light on too early, or this or that, I’m rididculed. That battle of what to eat for breakfast is even worse, but it has to happen before medicine. He needs food, he might not eat until dinner, any and every calorie will do. I don’t care if it’s ice cream with chocolate syrup. Many days it is. Then it’s the convincing of getting him to actually take the medicine, different strategies every day. Parent demands and authority. Humor. Tickles. Distractions. Bribery. Verbal battles. Physical battles. Not too long ago I cut his lip from holding him down and forcing medicine in his mouth. Is that a win? He took it, right. But did I win? Did he win? Is this healthy? Is this even worth it? He won’t be able to focus in school if he doesn’t take. He’ll get in trouble. I’ll get a call. It’s worth it right? Physcially holding down your son and making him bleed so he can go to school and function. Worth it? Some days it’s not. I have more battles to fight - getting him to get dressed, dealing with his hair sageand him doing it 18 times and raging at me. It’s my fault right? He decides to not like every piece of clothing he has even though I only have things in his closet the wears, and I don’t wash the one thing he wanted. I’m screamed at, every name in the book. In order for things to run mostly smooth in a morning, I have to remember everything, get everything just right, get him up at just the exact time for him to have enough sleep but also have enough time to get ready—every minute counts. I have to be emotionally ready take every single swear and ridicule and tear down—and not react. We don’t have time for my reactions, these delays. Most mornings, I can get it 75% right, but not perfect. I’m tested every single morning. Over and over and over again. And then it’s being called a mother fucking stupid bitch just one more time, during a stressful week at work, and I snap. I loose my shit. I yell in the way I say I will never do again, I get in his face, I’m basically spitting I’m so fucking mad, I say things I will regret. I can’t help it. I get into the car, sweating, shaking and then put on a smile for that girl in the back seat that I always send to the car early with my phone because she’s ready to go, but more importantly so she doesn’t hear and witness the out of control fights. So she doesn’t see her mother torn down again. She’s two years younger and ready 20 minutes earlier because she’s a ‘typical child’ on a ‘typical school morning’. When he’s finally in the car, we whiz off to school dropping her off first.

I pulled up to his school to drop him off. I stop a good distance before the door and said ‘get out’. ‘Mom why? We’re not even to the door’. ‘Get out of my car right now’. The designated parking lot teacher looks at me oddly, I smile and wave. You have no fucking clue, buddy.

I couldn’t stand his presence for another second. This was the third day in a row of this and I was done.

I drove away cursing, but not crying, I had to go to work. I had a lead a meeting at 8:30am. I had to walk into that building pretending that I didn’t have a week’s worth of stress in two hours. Then I said, ‘I fucking hate you’. It just came out. I literally said this about my own son. I’m so sick of this. I’m sick of 10 years of hard days. 10 years of struggle. 10 years of thinking it will get better, but it actually gets worse. It gets worse every single year.

**

Then at 3pm, he texts ‘hey mom, I’m on my home from school’. He just recently got a phone and I love texting with him. I didn’t think I would hear from him after our morning. My heart immediately skipped a beat. ‘Awesome, bud. I love you.’ ‘I love you, too, mom’.

I already missed him.

Unconditional love.