Love/Hate Relationship

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Well, it finally happened. It took 10 years and three kids, and since the youngest is four and a half, I was hoping it never would, but it did, and it broke my heart just a little.

We were getting ready to start our day Monday morning. Everyone was getting dressed, brushing hair, slathering sunblock – the usual morning stuff. In a calm and cheery voice I reminded my half-naked youngest daughter, “Hey cutie, we need to put pants on so we can go have breakfast.”

She could see me in the reflection of the floor-length mirrored closet door from where she lay in the middle of the bathroom. Instantly, her mouth curved into a grumpy badger frown, “no.”

“Yep, we need pants for school. No nekkie kids allowed!”

And then she did it – she leapt to her feet, scooped up the pants, gathered her righteous preschooler anger and stabbed me in the heart. 

“I hate you, you’re stupid!” punctuated with throwing her pants at me and fleeing the room.

Hating the morning
I knew she didn't mean it – it’s Monday morning and she would really rather stay home with me than go to preschool. It’s because I’m mama and she needs to test the bountiful love that saturated her all weekend. It’s because me leaving her for any length of time feels like a betrayal of the worst sort to her immediate, always-present life perspective – even a 30 second trip to the mailbox without her is a travesty in her little world.

All these long/short years of parenting such complex and demanding little people, I've felt lucky that “I hate you,” wasn't a test I had to cope with. I know it’s a standard part of child development that many parents deal with regularly. I know the kid doesn't really mean it the way an adult would. I know it's really not about me at all.

Knowing all of this didn't help much.

It was a shock, like being zapped with a hard static charge. You see the spark jump; you hear the crack, and then the sharp snap and numb tingle. It’s not a deathly blow, but [ha-ha] shocking nonetheless. It’s painful enough that you yelp and jerk back.

She hit me with, “I hate you,” and I froze. Her airborne pants hit my hip and dropped in a limp tangle to the floor. I blinked at the empty doorway she’d fled through and felt my throat ache and my eyes burn.

I took a deep breath and swallowed hard. I finished fixing my hair. I went downstairs to get my coffee and pack my lunch.

When I got back upstairs Badger was finishing putting on her pants with the graceful help of her big sister, the amazingly empathetic Athena, who had heard the eruption from the other room and stepped in to help move the morning along.

Badger and I side-eyed each other as I headed back to my bathroom to finish getting ready and she headed downstairs for cereal.

Then, as I gathered my bags to head out the door, she ran to me calling, "mama, wait!" and clung. We hugged, we kissed, we told each other to have a great day. We cuddled for a minute, we professed our mutual love. I reassured her that I’d pick her up after work. She declared, “You’d better! You promised!”

One last kiss and we went our separate ways for the day. Not all better, but good.

Mama & child - a really complex love story

And, Now…

That first “I hate you,” leaves a permanent mark on your heart. 

But it’s okay – I've discovered over the years that I have a mama’s heart and those are tough things. They are armored on the outside to protect the tender core. Bandaged with haphazard hugs and sloppy kisses. Stitched together again and again with chain-mail, frayed twine, floss and a bit of fuzzy yarn. They beat strong and sure through cuts, burns and repeated blows. 

Who else can you repeatedly scream, "I hate you" at and have that person keep coming back for more with smiles and hugs, sympathy and understanding. Mom’s love is always our first punching bag – it is, after all, such a large and handy target.

The next time she says it, and with Badger I’m really sure there will be a few more times, it won’t be such a surprise and it won’t hurt as much – the new cuts blunted by that first shocking blow.  I’ll tuck it in the scar, smile at her and tell her I love her anyway, because I do.


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