I’m sorry. I worry that your recent bouts of aggression are the result of the upheaval and tension in your life. You’ve been trying to hit me (in the face, no less) and your dad says you have been brandishing your wooden spoon like a weapon under his care. Today, you bit your girlfriend’s face at daycare (and not in a good way).
I’m so sorry for the ways I’ve failed you. We moms are quick to martyr ourselves over the veggie to french fry ratio in our kids’ diets or the amount of Nick Jr they watch, but this is a deeper fail. I failed to create a loving and safe home for you, where you could thrive and see your parents as the model of how a man and woman should love each other.
I’m sorry we don’t always know where your favorite shirt is, or who has the flip cam. I’m sorry you never know who’s picking you up. I’m sorry you don’t just have one bed, one bathtub, one safe place.
I’m sorry that I couldn’t, that I wouldn’t, make it work. I’m sorry that I had to put myself first. I hope some day you can understand why.
I love you so much. I hope you know that, even though I only get to be with you half of the time. Know that it kills me to be apart from you. That I wish every single day that it could have been different, that I could tuck you in each night and see your face each morning.
I am so, so sorry.
All my love,