On having human kids

Hours of screaming, kicking, spitting, hitting, name calling, door slamming, without a break.
Happy go lucky, to frustrated and aggressive at the drop of a hat.
Sitting with my back against the wall, physically restraining my child in my arms, meanwhile ignoring my other children, because its the only way I can think of to keep everyone safe.
A four year old telling you they hate you...that God gave them the wrong mom.
A five year old, who looks like a 7 year old, throwing aggressive tantrums in public.

I've been keeping it all inside for the past two years. I have hardly shared it with anyone, and rarely has anyone else witnessed it, other than close family members, or the occasional unsuspecting stranger in the library parking lot.

The isolation has been enormous.

We tried talking to the pediatrician. We tried the play therapist. We tried yelling, crying, negotiating, punishing, ignoring, despairing. And it didn't work.

Now we are trying the psychiatrist, who thinks that he likely has ADHD, definitely had ODD (Oppositional Defiant Disorder), and possibly anxiety.

How do you share with someone else that you love your child more than your own life, but can't be in the room with them for one more single second? How do you number the parenting mistakes you've made? How do you move on, when it never ever seems to get any better?

How do you stay positive? How do you pray? How do you not take it all personally?

We live in a world where when our kids succeed, its because the parents did something right. When the kids act up, or make mistakes, or are human...its our fault.

How many nights have I fallen asleep, guilt ridden, thinking it's all my fault??

How could I possibly count the days I've texted my husband at work, or called him in tears, or asked him to come home in the middle of the day because we are tanking so hard that I was paralyzed.

I'm not afraid to ask for help, and I've asked for plenty, but it is still so lonely to be living this way. The tipping point was a meltdown at our home while we had friends over. I was locked in my sons room with him, trying to calm him down, when I burst into tears. I walked my friend and her four kids to the door, sobbing, trying to pretend like I wasn't sobbing. Wonderful friend that she is, she didn't want to leave me like that, but we both knew it was the best thing in the moment.

It was one of the more mortifying moments of the past two years. But it was also incredibly freeing. Finally...someone has seen our junk. Someone has witnessed it, and I didn't actually melt into a puddle and seep into a hole in the ground. That friend later texted me to say that she would be there for us through the good and the bad, that there was no judgement, and that I was a good mom.

I can't even imagine how I could explain what we've been through as a family over the past few years. It has affected us all. But we are (hopefully...please, Lord), turning a corner. Our son started kindergarten, after a long internal battle over whether or not I wanted to homeschool him (I did...but it definitely would not have been the right choice for him or our family).  He loves school, and is doing well so far, but as a long way to go to building the skills he needs to be able to manage his emotions better.

This morning he woke up surly, and frustrated. By the time I dropped him off to school my feelings were hurt, and I already felt like I needed a break from everyone, at 8 am. But in a small moment of mercy I remembered something. That when we are at our most unlovable, that's when we need love the most. And that goes for all of us, not just our kids. So this post is my coming out: not that I have a kid with issues (don't we all?), or that our family is going through a hard time...But I am coming out that I'm human. I'm coming out to say that my child is human. That parenting so far hasn't  been what I expected, and that I haven't enjoyed every moment.  But that we're waking up every morning and doing the best we can.