It's a why me day.


I dislike other people's children sometimes. Especially when their parents believe they really act all sweety-sweet.

My oldest is different. That's fine. Being the same gets you the status quo, never risking anything boring life. I KNOW in my heart and soul that as he gets older everything will even out. He has so many things going for him, he's smart, adorable, with a huge loving heart (which by the way will make him a super daddy some day), fantastic with computers and charming.

However, this doesn't endear him to the snotty jock boys in his class that have spent the last FOUR year picking on him. Never have I wanted my child to just once, punch another kid. This year, I'm all for it. Would serve the bullies right. I digress, he is different. Emotional, impulsive, life makes him cry.

Maturity wise he is probably a year behind his classmates. I can't change that part of him. And it pains me sometimes to be the mother of the "different" kid. I know every class has one, and while no one wants to be that kid, you want even less for it to be your child. But he's mine. And life's not fair or just. Ever.

I do try my best. Just sometimes, I wish it was easier. I wish I felt less like I was swimming through mud and the way was clearer. I wish other parents had some idea of how their children really act. I have no delusions about how mine behave. I wish the children were more kind, less evil. I wish for so many things. But the world isn't nice, or kind.