Guilt

We've had an up-and-down week, as I suppose every family has. Jacob completely lost it at camp, two days in a row, and then pulled himself together for two days, except that of course he keeps running away from the group and that it's difficult to diffuse/refocus him.

Yeah. Tell me about it.

On the plus side, the structured, frankly highly-regimented atmosphere is working well. His counselor is always able to get him back into the group. So that's good.

But then there's things like last night...he went into time out for dropping toys into my wife's water glass, sat down calmly, and then screamed as loudly as he could (clearly trying to get my attention). I continued to talk with Sophia, so he grabbed the nearest item and threw it at my head. Luckily it was a plastic tube.

It wasn't a big deal. I refused to react, so he didn't get the attention he wanted, and instead he had to go directly to bed. He took this well, unlike the last time I sent him to his room -- when he climbed out onto the roof.

But it was just tiring. I wish things weren't always such a fight. I want to be able to play with him and show him cool things and have interesting conversations instead of these battles.

Sure, I know it isn't always like this. But it seems like it is like this every day, for at least a portion of the day. And I would just like it to stop.

I feel guilty about sending them away, but at moments like this, when he's trying to throw things at my head, I am looking forward to them being gone. And then I feel even more guilty.

I feel guilty for wondering what would have happened if he'd picked up something heavier, as he's done in the past. I feel guilty for wondering what could happen if he did that while a baby was laying next to me.

I feel guilty because my wife and I agree that if these were our children, OUR children for keeps, we would not have chosen to have a third because it would be too much to manage.

Then I feel guilty for looking forward to our baby. Who I'm choosing over these children.

My whole day just feels laced with guilt. When they're great and happy and fun (or even just not horrible), I feel guilty. How could I send these sweet children away? When Jacob is actively trying to hurt me, or is running in front of cars on purpose, and so on, I feel guilty for thinking, "Only a little longer...you won't have to deal with this forever."

It would be so nice to just look forward to the baby. To just be happy. But even that thought makes me feel guilty.