I Hate 6th Grade

Cooper and I fight every day. Every. Day. He is obstinate, argumentative and a total pre-teenager. It doesn't matter what I do, I'm wrong, I'm stupid, I'm not enough. It's breaking my heart. I'm finding the easiest thing to do is ignore him and I can't tell you how much that hurts. He doesn't want me in his space anymore. My little boy who clung to his "nurseys" and his blanket named "ga" is nowhere to be seen. At least that's how it feels.

Typically, Eric gets up with Cooper before school--I just make things harder--and takes him to school. This morning Eric had to go plow so I got the honors. I got up and he immediately bristled at my question of "Did you take a shower?" He actually stomped out of the room and slammed the door. What's worse is if his dad asks it's usually a response like, "Oh no ... not yet!" as he gleefully tip toes into the bathroom.

I'm not sure what I'm doing that is insulting his sensitivities so greatly. Do I call him out too much? We have always been so close -- almost too close and I'm sure that part of this is his separating from me. Which obviously needs to happen -- but I didn't know it would be so hurtful.

I laid back down after he got on the bus before I had to wake up Jackson and Aiden for school and cried. It is just so hard. It's so sad to me that the biggest heartbreak I have is between my son and my own heart. I thought I had a little more time before he left me but I was wrong. In a lot of ways he's already gone.

After he got out on the bus I texted him that I loved him and hoped he had a good day. He answered he loved me, too. I tried to remind myself of all the ways he's still with us -- with me -- the hug I got after school (that followed another argument, actually), his concern for me when I don't feel well, how he appreciated when I surprised him with "The Blind Side" book a few weeks ago. There's still a lot of good stuff, and a lot more to have, it's just all different and I wasn't ready for it to change so drastically so fast.

I'm trying to let him go and make his mistakes and rise to the occasions he's given on his own -- but he's only 12! Aren't I supposed to have a say, still? It seems as though he's fine with me unless I'm the one bringing the heat about homework, his room, his attitude ... so as long as I just get along he'll be nice to me?

I know I'm telling him too often what to do--I get that. But to be honest I'm scared. This is when everything you've said and done (and while I think I've done (we've done) a good job there all the sudden seems to be a danger around every corner) is coming out. I'm afraid he's not going to know. I am afraid he's going to be hurt. Little hurts I can live with. The big ones I can't.

I think Jackson's accident has been more traumatic to me than I am willing to admit. I have been so afraid of them being hurt, lost, gone ever since it happened that sometimes I can't breathe. Obviously, I need to get over that. I just want a window into his life, I don't need the whole thing--just a little bit. Is it so hard for him to give me that? Maybe.