I Love You Forever

One of my all time favorite children’s books is titled “Love You Forever”, written by Robert Munsch. It is such a sweet story about the trials of raising a child and how in spite of all the heart ache and chaos that becomes your life in the process of being a parent, the love that you feel for your child is forever present and eternally constant. At the end of the book, it shows how this lesson in expressing unconditional love is passed down to the next generation. I am not a very big crier, but I admit, I cry when reading this simple children’s book.

To me, right now though, I’m not at the end of my story. I’m still in the middle of raising my kids and I’m not exactly sure how everything is going to play out, or if my kids will ever truly understand the love that I have for them. But, I know this. Every morning, I feel like I’m waking up in a zoo, complete with wild animal noises and dreaded new messes for me to face. I try my best to express my love after, or better yet, BEFORE I’ve lost my temper like the wild Ape mother who’s in charge of all these little monkeys, and I try to spend at least a few minutes really talking to my kids about anything that’s on their minds, during the day. But, I’m not ever sure if there is enough time in a single day to overcome all the chaos that we face as a family. “Have I done enough?” is a question I find myself asking when I’m looking into the fridge trying to decide what kind of meal I can get to fit my dueling desires to provide something healthy as well as something quick.

Then the fighting and the screaming and the whining and the tattling suddenly kick up to a level 10 on the emotional-overload-scale and I swear I could go cross-eyed just counting down the last few hours until bed time so that I can send the children to their rooms (for their own well-being), so that they can stop making noise, and finally fall asleep already, and so I can finally RELAX! *Metaphorically pulling my hair out* (sigh)

And, even though the very act of hearing my children wind down and FINALLY entering that deep breathing stage of sleep makes my daily burdens of anxiety and stress that I place on myself during the day dissipate instantaneously, not to be re-awakened again until morning, my first thought really isn’t a pressing urge to crawl into their bedroom, pick them up and start singing lullabies in their honor. No. Unfortunately, my first thought is usually “Now, where did I hide that treat I wanted all to myself?” *hangs head* Yes, I know, shameful.

On the other hand, maybe I’m doing pretty well after all. If I think back just one year, I realize that the progress we’ve made as a family is outstanding! One year ago, I was moving out of a shelter and into the home of some friends of mine who would be gone for a year and decided to bless our lives with renting to me at an incredible rate. One year ago, my kids wanted nothing more than to run away at every chance they got because they instinctively couldn’t feel safe or secure after the maddening marriage, separation, and final divorce we’d all just barely survived. I wasn’t spending any real time with them during the day; I was looking straight through them as I tried everything I could to just keep my head above water, let alone plan for our future together. One year ago, we couldn’t say “I love you” as often, or as sincerely as we say it now. We didn’t cry, either. Which, might seem like a good thing, but it isn’t when compared to the previously constant battle of extreme emotions (anger and elation) that fought within each of us individually and as a whole family on constant replay throughout every day. One year ago, most days were absolute hell. I honestly don’t know how we survived it at all.

With a son who also within the past year and a half was finally diagnosed with Bipolar disorder, the feeling of barely surviving last year gives me the tinniest perspective on how difficult his life has been for him, and it certainly provides me all the motivation needed to make sure he is taken care of emotionally (with therapy) and mentally (with good medications). Unfortunately, we often still face moments of hell together as a family because of the chaos that, if it had its way, would relentlessly attack his seemingly over-developed logical and reasoning brain and remain unsuppressed by medications in its desire to reign with horrific terror. It is actually a miracle in and of itself that at the age of 8, my oldest son was finally able to tell me over and over “Mommy, I feel happy. Not, like I want to jump around kind of happy, just good, calm, happy”, as if he was discovering this sincere emotion for the first time in his life. I want to cry just remembering that moment in time. I am so glad that he has been able to discover this kind of calm happy feeling and I want that feeling to stay for him for as long as possible.

I want that for our whole family, too. My other boys have been through their own versions of hell and they have survived with such power and grace. I am not exaggerating when I say that my kids could put most adults to shame in the way that they have been able to forgive and grow and change in the midst of the hell that we called our every-day life for so long. I am certain that most adults would undoubtedly crumble, have a mental break down and end up hospitalized if they had to go through what my kids have been through. They are the reason why I keep trying to do better. It might be difficult for me to remember this inner motivation on most days, especially when I’m in the middle of an “I want to shoot myself in the foot” moment of grocery shopping at 4 pm with all of them in tow, but they really are my reason to keep pushing to be better. They deserve all that a loving mother could give them.

And, while I can’t yet muster the courage to give them personalized lullabies in their beds every night, I’m giving them the gift right now, of a persistent mother. I will keep trying to do better. I will keep going to school and attempting to get a degree. I will keep pushing them to be as wonderful as I know they are. I will keep making them do their chores and read books and brush their teeth. I will make myself sit down to a meal with them and ask “What was your favorite thing about today?”, even if what I really want to be doing is turning on the t.v. and letting my mind take a break for a minute from the maddening noise level that is any house with three small boys living in it. I will keep forgiving myself when I totally mess everything up. I will keep forgiving them. This is how I will show my boys . . .

I Love You Forever.