And yet again...

Dearest son,

I love you. I love you more than the air I breath, the water I drink, the sun that lights me. I love you so much it hurts and so much that hearing a song that makes me think of you will often bring me to tears, even if you're in the backseat screaming at me to put in N'Sync's "Bye Bye Bye." I love you when you hug me and when you hit me. I love you when you're screaming and when you're snoring and when you're saying "please" and "thank you." I love you even when you hurt me intentionally. I love you.

So please understand how hard it is to punish you, to limit you, to get angry with you. Please understand that when I do lose my temper with you it absolutely kills me inside. Please understand that when I raise my voice above appropriate levels, even if we spend the rest of the day in sheer and utter bliss I am still berating myself and always will. Please understand that it hurts me to hurt you, it hurts me to see your angry face turn into one of shock or fear or sorrow. Please understand that I only raise my voice or hold your fists or make you sit out because I want what's best for you. You need to learn how to behave, you need to calm down and learn to enjoy life with other people there, and you need to learn that you actually can harm others.

I would say more. But you appear to be up from nap.

Dang.

Love, mom