The Truth Hurts

Ever write what you felt in your heart and debate whether or not you should share it?

I debated about making yesterday's blogpost about Mitch public or not, all day long.

In the end I wanted to be truthful. To tell everyone how I feel. I suppose in my quest to hear the truth from Mitch, I wanted to be honest myself.

Parenting is by far the hardest thing I have ever done. Or will do, I think.

Even harder than marriage. At least when you marry someone you choose them.

Children aren't chosen, they are given to you. And they often seem like they were plucked randomly from the universe and dropped into your womb. I often wonder where mine came from.

Whom/where did they get certain qualities (or not get certain qualities) from?

And how do you have two people who end up with two kids who are nothing alike?

My two sisters and I are different, and yet a lot the same.  We are some obvious combo of my mom and my dad. A mixture of first born, middle child and baby of the family characteristics are obvious in each as well.

I think it is natural to look to the family to see where the traits of the children came from.

In the great wisdom that comes with age I have learned that traits do not always have a source.

Lying is to me awful, ugly, nasty. I was in a lie once, and after I got out of it, vowed that it was a place I never wanted to be in again. It made me feel rotten inside.

How can it not make anyone feel rotten? When your gut--that clenching feeling in the pit of your stomach that hits when you are scared, or worried or when you are caught in a lie ---tells you that something is not right, you must learn to follow your gut.

My gut tells me that something is not right with my son. He won't talk about it. He won't share. His answer to everything is "nothing" or "I don't know".

I know that is not the truth, just as I know that my son is smarter than I am. Stronger than I am. I guess he is just not ready to admit what is bothering him.

I send up a prayer that in the end his gut will be too much and he will come clean. I have to belive this, I am his mother. I love him unconditionally. I will be here when he breaks. I will help pick up the pieces.

But right now the honest truth is, I don't like him very much.