I went looking for a cause
Or a strong cat without claws
Or any reason to resume
And I found myself a seat
In this crowded waiting room

I hold off on writing about the truly unpleasant things. I hold tightly to the idea that if you act calm, happy and accepting, then you will be that. It works to a certain degree, but the original issue never seems to be touched by my fierce, crazed attempts at positive thinking.

I have two children. Everyone says that a parent cannot help but love each child equally -- no more and no less that the others. It's just not true. Maybe the volume of love is the same, and the total commitment to literally step in front of oncoming traffic to save them -- all that is the same. It cannot help but be that way. But the WAY...the MANNER in which a parent loves each child is different. It is vastly different for me.

My son was my first. With him I really do understand the adage that Love Hurts. Because with him, it really does hurt. Bluntly put he sometimes seems like he is in pain, emotionally turbulent, complicated, deeper. I am beguiled and fierce and guilty. His teachers tell the same tale each year: "We love him. He's hard to understand. He wants so much love. It's hard to be with him. He marches to his own beat. We need to work on figuring him out."

I am so desperate for someone to tell me he will grow out of this, that every boy is like this, that he's just immature. I ask to hear this and I never do. If I articulated my fears for my child out loud, I am afraid I would be labled an hysteric or that I was expecting the worst. Is it wrong to just want your child to have an easy life? Or at the very least, a less-difficult one?

This is probably the most painful subject I can possibly explore, and lately this issue is more consuming of my time, energy, emotional currency than anything. Every mother will be able to relate to my most overwhelming feeling: Somehow I am responsible for his unhappiness.

That's about all I can do right now. I wish I knew more but my ignorance is part of the reason why this subject is so fraught.

You know it's really hard
To talk sense to you
Trouble child
Breaking like the waves at Malibu