I love all of my gremlins three, as I'm sure you know. They're my special little guys, even that stinky teenager with the braces who isn't so little anymore and forgets to take out the garbage. I'd even go so far as to say we're enmeshed in a potentially co-dependent relationship, what with me staying home, foregoing any hope of a decent career, and basically dedicating my entire life to their care and feeding.

But love them as I may, there's one in particular I'm having a very difficult time connecting with these days, even after going to that seminar about tantrums, and even after understanding why he tantrums, and even after trying out some of the anti-tantrum techniques during his meltdowns.

Look, I know he's a good kid. An honest to goodness amazing and gorgeous boy. He does really well in school, has no discipline issues there, is polite, has friends, comes home smiling every day. He likes to help his little brother, has a great deal of compassion, appreciates all of life's little wonders. He's smart as a whip, has the mind of an inventor and an incredible imagination. I'm fiercely proud to be Gutsy's mama.

But then he comes home, starts to tantrum over the slightest litle thing and I forget all of that, and my blood starts to boil, and I feel overwhelmed and embarrassed and exhausted and on the verge of tears. I ask myself why I can calm down my three-year-old a lot easier than my seven-year-old, why 'no' is less of an issue with him, why he seems to accept things so much easier.

The speaker at the seminar said not to expect miracles; children who are prone to explosions will eventually grow out of them and figure out new and ways to cope, and that all we can do is try to guide them to the other side of it faster by not making it worse.

But he's seven now and why hasn't that magical reasoning happened yet? I'm so very tired, and to make things worse I don't drink. Man, if I did, I'd be chugging it down all the time, every afternoon beginning with a couple of shots 10 minutes before Gutsy gets off the bus, swigging a few beers in between outbursts, and ending with a glass of wine after dinner.

(My inner alcoholic would like to take this opportunity to point out that my disease is ever present and dormant within me, and that if you do something similar to the above example, there is help for people like us.)

I'm exhausted, folks. Completely and utterly emotionally spent. I love him tremendously, enormously, ridiculously lots, and yet I can't seem to bridge that gap with him. I don't have a marital problem, I have a relationship with my middle child that is dangerously on the rocks.

It's just not fair, you know. He was the baby I wanted so very badly. I begged my husband for another child shortly after Intrepid was born. When we realized we were dealing with secondary infertility, I went to great lengths to make my body release her damn eggs. We suffered a miscarriage in the process (and many more undiagnosed ones, I'm quite sure), but five years after the journey began, he came into the world completely perfect.

And sleepy. He slept through the night and pretty much through most of the day for nearly six months. He totally fooled us -- we assumed he would be our 'quiet one.' Ah, ignorance, how wonderful you were. Like many 80's bands, I wish you'd never left.

Every day Gutsy tantrums, and every day he makes his little brother cry in fear from the ear-piercing screams and his older brother stomp off into the other room because he's too overwhelmed to handle Gutsy's moods anymore. Every day his dad and I get stressed to the point of silence because we know if we communicate with each other it'll likely be snippy and we'll just end up arguing. Every day we wonder when the next tantrum is going to be and we brace ourselves for it, praying for the day when he's going to finally figure out this just doesn't work, because it's doesn't. We don't give in to his demands just because he's yelling - I wish we did because we'd know how to solve the issue. See, he knows he's out of control and he feels really bad about it afterward. It hurts him that he's hurting us; he feels sorry and he apologizes. He says 'I don't know how to control myself when I get angry.'

It breaks my heart.

The worst part? I don't think he likes me very much, and not just when he's angry. I'm not exactly cool and collected with him all the time, as much as I'm trying since that seminar. He prefers his dad, who seems to have a magic touch with him. They understand each other, while I'm the outsider trying desperately to do the right thing. I blow up too quickly, I come down too hard, and it doesn't help at all; it only makes it worse. I just get my guard up really fast and I lash back. I'll yell back sometimes, and then we both just cry.

If I feel I've failed at anything so far, it's at being Gutsy's mom. There are a lot of things I feel bad about in my life, but not being able to help him navigate these stormy emotional waters is incredibly painful and demoralizing as a mom. I seem to be doing a good job with Intrepid and Spawnling, so why not Gutsy? Where am I going wrong?

I've been trying to blog for days. I have all sorts of ideas and thoughts and things I want to say. But I had to write this first because it's been weighing heavily on my mind. When I said goodnight to him this evening, I felt a familiar wave of relief that he's now calm and in bed and we're done for the night. It's sad that I feel that more than warmth and affection. My emotions are clouded by his behaviour. That's unacceptable to me.

Gutsy is one of the most important people in my life, and yet I can't seem to connect or relate to him much at all these days. And we have to find it; that magical something we used to have and that I have with his brothers. If we don't, I fear for his teen years. He needs to know I'm there for him and he needs to feel safe around me well before he hits puberty. I don't know how to foster that, exactly, but I'm desperately trying.

Admittedly, this was more of a tear fest for me than my usual type of post, but I had to write it out. I'm feeling so fragile and upset because I know there's no magic fix. He is who he is, I am who I am, and somehow we have to figure out how to be good together. I honestly want that more than anything.

I'm not looking for 'how to discipline' advice because this is not a discipline issue, but I could use some support and 'how to reconnect' suggestions. This sad and hurting mom is all ears.

Thanks for reading.