I may have failed my son

I haven’t posted in a few days because my mind has been preoccupied. Preoccupied by thoughts that I may have failed my son. I spend every day pretty much every waking moment with Rylan and Seark. Rylan reminds me so much of Aidan as a baby. His big blue eyes. His fuzzy hairless head. His want for independence despite the fact that his legs cannot physically hold him up yet. The same happy yet serious disposition. The love in his eyes when he looks at me.  Aidan just like Rylan would get hysterical when I walked out of the room. When I return his cries turn to smiles in an instant. Those seemingly small moments remind me just how much I mean to my kids. My mere presence put them at ease. As long as I am near everything is okay. All fear dissipates with the sight of my face. For a mom, for me that is an indescribably wonderful feeling. It’s those moments that make your heart melt and hurt. Why hurt? Because as your kids get older they realize along with you that you cannot protect them from everything. You can comfort them when they are distressed. Give them magic kisses that heal boo boos. Hold their hand when they are scared. Wipe their tears when they cry. But you can’t change this unkind world. And you can only keep them from it for so long.

Rylan wakes up happy. I love to lay in bed and listen to him coo and babble to himself before I pick him up.  I lean over the crib and his eyes light up. He reaches up for me in anticipation. He is all smiles and snuggles. I wait for the little pitter patter of Seark’s quick and tiny feet. He comes flying in my room. A tiny ball of energy ready for whatever the day might bring. Like a kid on Christmas every morning is the same. He races downstairs to take out his toys as if they are all brand new and this is first opportunity to get his hands on them. Aidan not too long ago greeted the day like the other two. Not anymore.

Aidan being my first child I now see may have put him at a disadvantage. I taught him at the time what I thought was best for. From the time he could talk he learned to speak with kindness. Of course like any other kid he had his fresh moments but they were far and few between. I made sure he knew his hands were for playing and helping never hitting or hurting. I gave him the love and respect that I expected in return. I corrected him when he was wrong and praised him for jobs well done. I gave him the freedom to be who wanted to. I let him pick out his own ridiculous clothes and wear costumes out to dinner. He understood the concept of acceptance because he was being a raised by a mom that accepted him even if that meant we had to eat dinner with a tiny Darth Vadar.

 I taught him by example all the things I value in a person. Love. Respect. Kindness. Acceptance. Aidan is by a nature a gentle sensitive soul. From the very beginning he got what I was trying to show him. He is the most wonderful boy. He is an awesome big brother. The friend everyone wishes they could have. Loyal to a fault. I prepared him for a world we don’t live in. I should have warned him about the kid that is mean for the sake of being mean. Or the one that won’t let you sit next to him just because. Instead of keep your hands to yourself I should have told him if someone is hitting you, you hit them back even if it means you are going to hurt them. At least they will leave you alone next time. I should have… I didn’t. I didn’t think about mean kids. Indifferent parents. An educational system that tolerates both. I didn’t think to equip him with the tools he would need to navigate the real world. From the time he was born until he went to school I only thought about the world we shared. The one where it was just me and him and there was no need for thicker skin. I feel like I have failed him. The toll these unlearned lessons have taken on him make me sad. Sad for the little boy that used to be happy like his brothers. Sad that I couldn’t find a balance that would have made these days easier. Sad that we live in a world where he feels like he doesn’t belong because he has been taught better. Frustrated that kids like him are such a rare find that they are the ones forced to change. Disgusted that unacceptable behavior is tolerated and good qualities are viewed as weaknesses. A psychological evaluation for sensitivity is more readily available than a plan to correct a harsh situation.

I may have failed my son when I taught him about the world I wished for him. Now that I know the difference I struggle with how I will raise his brothers…