I've wondered if I should write this at all.
Part of me wants to not write it. I want you to look back on your childhood and only remember the good. I want the rough patches and difficult moments to be overpowered by the joyful, sun-filled moments.
Part of me wants to write it. I want to accurately capture what you were like at this age. I want to capture our real life. I want to look back, remember how hard things were, and then laugh when we actually make it through all this. That part is winning out.
First, I want you to know that I love you. From the moment I saw two pinks lines on the pregnancy test to this moment now, I have loved you.
Things have been difficult. It feels that we are always butting heads on everything. It doesn't matter. I ask you to do your homework, you argue with me. I ask you to do your chores, you argue with me. I ask you to eat your dinner, you argue with me. I lay out clothes for school, you refuse to wear them. I ask about your day, you refuse to tell me. We try to go for our evening family walk, you refuse to come with us. You refuse to wear your glasses. You boss Monkey around.
Every single thing is a fight.
I honestly thought we wouldn't have to deal with things like this until you were a teenager. I don't know how to make this better. There are moments, whole days, that I just want to banish you to your room and scream at the top of my lungs. Those are the moments I bury my face in my hands and take a deep breath through my fingers. Over and over I say to myself, "I love this boy, I love this boy."
Because I do love you. I know that this is just a phase. I know that you are sweet, you are responsible, you are thoughtful. I have seen you be all these things. We will get through this. I will still do everything I can to make sure that the happy memories, the wonderful things we have as a family smooth out this rough patch until neither of us remember it.
Just remember, I love you. Even when I make you wear your glasses, eat your peas, and wear a coat to school.