I am a horrible mother. I wish my son would die.
I have many bad memories of his childhood, violent acts/aggressive or antisocial behavior, but I have good memories. He was always a bedwetter, so most mornings it would be the two of us up first and we would just watch cartoons together and drink coco and I would rub his hair. We have family trips and holidays and all of that. We have had good times.
A part of me looks at him and sees his potential. He is a tall, handsome boy (girls stop and point at him, once even taking a picture with their phone) and is a smart kid. He is obsessed with bikes and talented at math and puzzles.
Unfortunately, I see the danger. I know him better than anyone and I fear the potential. The potential for cruelty, his penchant to hurt. Shortly after I made the first post this came out and he threw his brother, his little brother who is half his size, through a window for using his bike. Luckily, Cam was only slightly hurt. But that was when I realized he couldn’t be in this house and so did my husband, who has always been the most adamant that sending him anywhere would be more harm than good.
We found a military school and he’s been there four months. It is going well. His grades are good and he even received some monthly awards. I almost found hope again. Until we visited last month. He informed me that he would be good until he was 18 and could do as he wanted (“I was stupid, not to just wait my time to do things my way- I know that now, mom”) so we might as well save the money and bring him home. That he was only “playing good” around the right people and that’s all it takes to do well there.
Overall, he doesn’t mind being there, just said it was a waste for us all, and mostly asked for money for snacks and for us to send his bikes when he gained the privilege. He still despises his younger brother. I will never understand his hatred of Cam, just that occurred from the moment he saw him and has never desisted.
I hope the best. Maybe three years of playing good will rub off and he will learn to live in society. Maybe he’ll be toxic but not criminally, or maybe he’ll make a killing a wall street or maybe he’ll kill. Maybe not. But this is the end of our rope. We don’t know what else to do. We can only hope for the best. That the good will win out.
I did a paternity test before we sent him to military school, I was so conflicted – his therapists have always said keeping him home, close to loved ones and connection was the best thing we could do – and I feared that Ben’s paternity was all in my head. Unfortunately, I was right – Ben is not my husband’s son. I should’ve known to look at them – all behavior issues aside. Ben is so fair and lean, and very tall, where my husband is dark and broad and I’m a tiny red head. I obviously have not and will not tell either one. It could only cause more hurt.