Parents aren’t supposed to have favorite kids, right? Isn’t that the general unspoken rule of parent club: don’t have a favorite kid.
My husband and I had this discussion awhile ago. He said he finds it easier to be with the youngest one, because the youngest one observes and does whatever my husband does. I laughed and asked him to spend a day INSIDE because that’s not how C is for me. At all.
I love my boys. They are each an amazing soul that I pray God can do great things with. (Not that He can’t, I just pray for wisdom that we guide and train them to follow Him.)
They are night versus day different.
Meet Alex, the oldest.
This was Thanksgiving. He wanted to dress up because his job was to be a “servant to mommy” during the Thanksgiving tea. (His words, not mine or the teacher’s!) He has a wonderfully, sensitive heart. He is smart and usually kind. He has been my easy child. Slept thru the night at 3 weeks old, and was my little best friend. He learned his ABCs quickly, before he was 3 in fact. He just loved learning and was so easy to sit and just be with.
And then we decided, let’s have another baby. Just before Alex turned 4, we had Callan.
Be. Still. My. Heart.
There is so much personality in this little child. He crawled at 5 months. He walked at 10 months. He talked early. He locks me out of the house every chance he gets, then opens the door and says “hello, mister mommy!” (That’s the photo above.) He says words like “terrible” and uses phrases like “Oh! My goodness!!” He is like the energizer bunny- except there’s no batteries to remove or on/off switch!!!!! He is up early the last few months, and there is no quiet mornings anymore. This morning, he was yelling “Good morning!!!” as he closed the bedroom door behind him and Alex. It was 6:30. Today is Saturday. Neither me or my husband were ready for that loud of a wakeup. But we got it. He narrates everything. And if Daddy can do it, so can he. And if Alex says it and he doesn’t like it, well Callan just doesn’t take it. So many fights happen in our house. So much loudness. And “peace” is a word that rarely describes our home.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
For me, Callan’s busy self is hard to keep up with. His mind just doesn’t operate near like mine. Alex’s does. We both enjoy so many of the same things and I love how his mind works.
Google does not accurately prepare you for the reactions you will live thru for months of grieving. Maybe in the stack of books I’ve received, there is help and guidance. But I haven’t read them all yet.
Today Lamar took the boys to run errands and gave me a few hours to just have me time. I went window shopping and then had lunch with a new friend. I was so excited to see the boys this afternoon.
But once again, the moment Alex walked in a switch flipped and he became very rude toward me. I tried so hard to ignore it.
Have you ever been around those people tbat make you nervous because you can’t measure up to them? That’s how I feel with Alex.
Lamar and I have talked to him several times, repeating to him that he must respect us.
And today I decided to put my foot down.
And give him consequences.
Over. And over. And over.
And I lost my cool and yelled and fussed. But stayed consistent. I tried so hard to redirect his will, to allow him a choice and time to consider his options and over and over and over he chose to disobey and be disrespectful.
Parenthood isn’t for the weak. Is it?
By 7 pm, his will broke. And so did my heart. Again.
I don’t like writing this post. I feel like I’m being too honest, too raw, too open about the private matters like consequences. But these things aren’t to be hidden. I apologized when I lost my cool and yelled. I was honest with him.
It was just before 7 that he realized the ruin thay he had chosen. And he began to cry. It broke my heart. Here before me is a smaller version of myself. The very love of my heart and I hated being the person who couldn’t just spoil him and pretend life didn’t need consequences. I can’t stand to see his heart hurting. And yet for weeks, we’ve seen how badly his heart is hurting.
My sweet boy. At bedtime, he will often ask “Why did God choose to take our baby?”
I can’t explain that to him. I don’t know. I just know that through this all, our trust must stay on Jesus. Our faith must stay in God. That’s all I know. I can’t explain something I don’t know.
Tonight tho. As I cried into his head and expressed my love and forgiveness. I was reminded of God. My mind is often on Him. I don’t say that to brag. I just think that when I think of Liam, I immediately think of God because that’s who Liam is with.
In these weeks of mourning. Of tears. Of anger. Of depression. Of choosing to muddle through the hurts and keep my eyes on the good, good Father: Does He look at me like I look at Alex? Does He cry with me? Does He hold me when I just can’t take the day any more?
Yes, He loves me. Yes, He holds me.
I’m not sure if God cries or not. But I know He hears my cries, I know He cares, and I know that He too, gave up a son.
As I parent my sons, as I love and live life, as I blog or post online: I hope you see the real Rachelle. But more, I hope you can also see God.
I hope you see His strength holding me, because it’s not mine. I hope you see His love for you, for my family, for life in me. I hope you see His grace, His truth, His work in my life, in all that I am.