This blog is just about my life and mostly revolves around my son, Jamie. This blog is a combination of everything, whether it may be a new recipe I tried, a good freebie I found, something funny Jamie said, or feelings I'm having about life in general. There's little rhyme or reason. I'll never win any blogging awards, but I enjoy writing about our lives and I mostly do it for my son. It's so easy to forget moments over the years. I've got all these little tidbits of our life in print and I hope that someday Jamie can enjoy them.

I called this blog Mother of Life, Mother of Loss because of my issues with pregnancy loss and the joy of finally bringing this wonderful person into the world. Truly, I feel the pains of loss, but you won't see too much of that here. I am blessed and I am, above all else, a mother of life.

After all the years of infertility and loss, Matthew and I were blessed with a surprise pregnancy. We were pregnant with twins, but unfortunately, Baby A could not stay with us. Baby B grew into a healthy and happy baby girl that we named Bella Marie. We are so blessed to have two beautiful children.

Friday, January 30, 2009

Trouble on the Bus

When the bus pulled up yesterday afternoon I eagerly walked to the door to gather my precious boy. "Laura," the bus driver said with a look of dismay on her face, "Jamie got in trouble on the bus today." Oh, no. He had hit another little boy with his puppy hat. When the aid had told him no he looked at her and hit the little boy again, laughing. Great. "This is the first time," the aid said, "but I said no." she gestured with a pointing finger, "and he did it anyway to spite me." All I could do was apologize for his behavior. I wanted to say I would take care of this, but I held my tongue because I didn't know if I could stop this. He might hit on the bus again tomorrow.

I gathered him off the bus. I wasn't sure how to handle this. Was it right to grab him up and give him the normal hugs and kisses, tell him how much I love him and laugh all the way to the house? No, that wasn't quite right. What was the right way to handle this? "Why did you hit Christian with your puppy hat?" I asked him, leaning down so I could look him in the eye. "I was just playing." I told him that this was not a nice way to play and he could not hit. He deftly tried to change the subject. I stopped in the road and knelt down in front of him. "You can't hit. It is bad. Do you understand?" He replied, "Yes" and we continued to the house. Once home he wanted ice cream. "Little boys who hit can't have ice cream." He fussed a little, but eventually accepted that he would not get any. Somehow it doesn't seem like enough. I have little confidence that he'll remember this the next day. I have little confidence he'll remember this in five minutes.

The problem is that he thinks this is a manner of play. Of course he does. Throughout his life others have played with him like this. I've tried to stop it but so many people think that this is an acceptable way of playing, especially with little boys. My mother and her husband do it, the girls do it, and my father-in-law does it. I envision how my mother encourages Jamie to hit her husband, "Hit him, Jamie. Hit him harder!" and my desperate pleas to stop, "Mom, I don't want him to hit. Jamie no hitting, it's not nice!" It seems I'm the only one around who doesn't play like this. Perhaps he thinks that I'm the one who is wrong. Mommy just doesn't get it.

I don't want him to be "that" little boy. It's moments like this when I feel woefully inadequate as a parent. I honestly don't know what more to do. I have always told him not to hit and punished him for hitting. He's getting mixed messages.

This morning he ran after Dynisha and slapped her hard on the stomach, like he was tagging her, then he ran off laughing. I grabbed him and again told him, "No hitting. That is not a nice way to play. Do you like to be hit?" He shook his head, "Other people don't like to be hit, either." No time for a time out. We have to rush for coats and book bags. It's time for the bus. I say a silent prayer, "Please, please let him be a good boy on the bus today."

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