I should have loved you less

First, and foremost, I will preface this by saying:  I am NOT saying that if your kid doesn't cry that you don't love him/her as much as I love my kid.  This just applies to my own experience as a mother.  Don't get all hobbity bobbity.  You're fine.

Dear Colton, 

I should have loved you less.  

Yesterday I brought you to kindergarten for the first time.  You loved me so much you wouldn't let go of my hand.  You required an additional teacher, all to yourself, to escort you into the building.  Your classmates, were fine.  They lined up just right, behind the teachers.  The followed her into the building.  They were sad to leave their parents, but they were fine.  You, on the other hand, had to be peeled from my body, as if you were an additional appendage I did not have.  If I had loved you less, given you less attention, perhaps you would not have cared so much that you were leaving me for the day.  Perhaps you could have walked into the building like a normal human.  Instead... you were THAT kid.  

I should have loved you less.  

I started my first day of the MBA portion of my JD/MBA yesterday.  And while I should have been focused on the amazing presentations I had the opportunity to witness, inside my heart was breaking. Were you okay?  Were you crying?  Did you make any friends?  Did your teacher get annoyed with your incessant whining?  If there were an olympic event for whining, hands down you'd win the gold medal- no contest.  I worried about you all day.  I paid attention, but not as best I could.  I wondered if perhaps I held you too much.  Played with you too much.  Enjoyed you too much.  Loved you too much.  Because of you (and your sister of course- you're not my favorite you know- not because you whine [although I don't particularly LIKE you so so much during those moments] but because you are BOTH my favorites), and the space you occupy in my heart, my head was split in a thousand directions yesterday, instead of being 100% focused 100% of the day, like the rest of my classmates.

I should have loved you less.

I woke up this morning to you crying in my room that you didn't want to go to school.  That you wanted to be with me instead.  I wondered if perhaps I didn't yell at you enough.  Wasn't mean enough.  Didn't make you do enough chores.  I wondered if I had been meaner, if you would have been happier waking up this morning.  

I should have loved you less.

I joked with you until you pulled yourself together and put your big boy pants on to face your day.  You were fine all the way down to the bus stop.  And then the bus was late.  And then you started crying.  You were. the. only. kid. crying.  The only one.  But then it got better- as in, theatrically better for all the onlookers.  You started screaming.  Like a wild eyed monkey.  The bus came and you REFUSED to get on the bus.  I tried coaxing you.  I tried encouraging you to look at how all the other kids were fine.  I wondered if I had maybe thrown you to the wolves earlier, for longer, if perhaps you would be okay getting on the bus.  

I should have loved you less.

I then got ON the bus with you.  Sat you down.  Found you a friend.  Had the bus driver come over and tell you it was going to be alright.  While all the other forty kids from our bus stop got on the bus.  You lost it even further.  You screamed, and cried, and begged me not to leave you.  You did.  You really did this to me.  And because I love you, and you needed to get to school, as did the other fifty kids, I turned around, SAT you down on the seat and said to you sternly: "I love you.  You are going to have a great day at school.  I'm going now.  You are going to be fine.  DO NOT GET UP OUT OF THIS SEAT." And I peeled you off me.   And I turned around and didn't even look at you.  Before I even got off the bus, my mascara was running all the way down my face and the entire building of parents saw me sobbing, face covered in black streaks.

I should have loved you less.

I thought about you all day.  Sent an email to your teacher before I even got to school, letting her know you would arrive a hot mess.  Which you did.  You cried the entire way to school.  You held her hand, and you stayed with her.  But you were fine.  But I checked my email every ten minutes all day to make sure you were alive.  And that you were okay.  And I missed out on half the things that were said today.

I should have loved you less.

The truth is- I can't love you less.  Maybe I should have.  Maybe I should have been meaner.  Yelled at you a little more.  Made you work harder for things.  But I didn't.  And I can't.  And so you can't stand to be away from me, even though you have a fab teacher and great friends.  So I work with who I am, and who you are, and hopefully one day soon, you'll be able to get on the bus without crying.  I'll be able to stand there and wave, without covering my face in my hands trying to salvage some sense of pride.  

I can only love you more.

So, while you were sleeping, I went to a neighbor's house, got an outfit she was going to donate to goodwill, dressed up my courage lion I let you borrow (Yes Katie!  That thing is still around!), made him a bus badge, just like yours, and made him a lunch, just like yours.  And maybe tomorrow he will help you be strong.  

I can only love you more.

Love, 

Mommy