Dear Gabey...

Dear Gabey:

Today was a very trying day with you. I know I have written about the issues we've had with you and hitting your friends, but it came to head today in a way that was not good. The details aren't really important--he said, she said, where we were, if you were tired, if you were antagonized: none of it matters. Today, for what seems like the bazillionth time, you reacted to frustration by using physical force, and you hurt your friend.

I know you are only 3, and I know you actions aren't fueled with maliciousness or the intent to cause harm. They are powered by something I understand well, a feeling of rage when things bother you that cause you to want to kick the wall, or hit something, or wipe everything off the dining room buffet in one fell swoop (Mom, comments here aren't necessary!!)

It was a trying day because I felt such disapointment in you. I felt disapointed in myself for putting you in the situation. I felt embarrassed and hurt for my friend who's daughter you bludgeoned with a kiddie blender. I felt angry because I know why you hit, and I watched you control your impulses for the entire day and was so proud of that. But before I got a chance to tell you that, I had to throw you in the car and take you home, send you straight to your room and punish you by taking away your monster trucks and television. And, consequently, ban you from your friend for awhile. In some ways I am happy this happened with a good friend that I can talk honestly about and who wants to help me work on this problem...in other ways it sucks royally because I need to be the adult and as much as I want to spend time with my friend and hang out and swim, I need to instead refrain because I am trying to teach you good behavior, and its not going to work if I keep putting you in a situation you aren't equipped to handle at this point in time.

Most of your life, Gabe, you have been thought of and perceived as an "easy" kid. You didn't cry as a baby, you slept well at night from an early age, you were easy to take places, you always got along with other kids, you listen pretty well, and in general are a good kid. Very rarely do I have those legendary stay-at-home-mom days where you want to pull out your hair: you are good company, you entertain yourself well, and are generally easy-going in the grand scheme.

But its the little things with you. Your shoe is wet. You can't get your sleeves pushed up, or you get them pushed up but they aren't even. Your crayon breaks. The TV show you watch every morning is suddenly replaced with a different one. The song on the radio in the car changes (OMG GOD FORBID THIS HAPPENS!) You drop a piece of food on the floor and Mickey eats it. You own 17 plastic dinos but you can only find 16.

Don't get to bed on time? Miss a meal?? Skip a nap?? Can't go swimming 'cause its raining? NO SWEAT. You can roll with these punches, its those little tiny details that make up your day. I used to joke when you were a baby and people commented on how pleasant you were "Yes, but when he's not...watch out!" And so perhaps I've jinxed myself.

I keep asking myself how we ended up in this situation? Did you learn the behavior from someone else? Did I not act soon enough when it came to disciplining you? Am I not strict enough? Too strict?? Are you going to be a social pariah and forever known as "the kid who hits?" Why, when every other kid is learning or knows that "we don't hit" are you struggling?

Even though I know the answer, because I know you. I know that beneath your quiet and usually pleasant demeanor you are extremely intense and sensitive. I know that the same force that will drive you to collapse in a puddle of tears when, after you meticulously line up 35 monster trucks and one falls off the table, is the same force that rears its head when someone grabs a toy from you, or gets in your personal space, or does something silly when you aren't in a silly mood.

I get it buddy. I know what its like. But--you can't hit.

Im lucky to have such good friends who are willing to help me help my son. Im thankful that my husband makes a point to talk to Gabey about hitting--he is never there for the incidents, but has a quiet way of reprimanding later. Im thankful for mom-friends who understand that it doesn't matter what your kid does, when he does it, or how he does it, what kind of job you have, or if you stay at home, or whatever: its hard. You want your kids to be the very best they can be, and it sucks royally when they are not.

So, yeah. Even though hours have passed and you've already gone to bed, I'm still disapointed in your behavior. And I hate feeling like that. I mean, you're 3!!! Aren't I supposed to get a pass on this feeling until at least age 13?????? So I thought maybe if I wrote about it I'd feel a little better.

I love you little buddy, so much. And I know you are sensitive, and intense, and I know your heart is good. And I'm trying to do everything I can to help you learn to communicate your feelings in a socially acceptable way. So cut Mommy a break okay, and stop beating up the neighborhood.