Raising Cain

I remember... when TK was just eleven years old she came home from Easter vacation at her mom’s house with her long beautiful hair dyed black. Black as black can be, and I thought to myself, “Oh no, here we go.” And though my husband cut off all her hair, what drove her did not go away. From there on out, it was a rough ride... not because she began misbehaving but because she was struggling internally: sad, angry, and no positive self image.

I thought it would be so much easier with boys, but now I see that I was wrong. Just the other day when I was searching You Tube for a song, my oldest son—nine year old Gecko, poked his head in my office and said, “Can you play ‘Feel Like a Monster’?” I had heard that song before, probably on the van radio but I couldn’t think of how he would know it. He went on to tell me that it is his song, that he feels that way.

I pulled it up and clicked the Play arrow... and after a couple seconds of an animated icky video, I stopped it. “How did you find that song?” I asked him, concerned about him searching You Tube for anything at all... and he explained that I had the wrong video... there is a video of the Pokemon Zoroark with the song. Hmmm, Pokemon... ok but not really because I do not like the idea that he identifies so strongly with the words to the song.

Now he sings it everyday. Just this morning waiting for the bus, "♪ ♫ I've lost my soul, ♪ ♫ I've lost my heart." Listen if you dare.



I wish, no stronger than that, I ache to be able to go back to when he was just a little toddler and do it over again so that somehow we don’t end up here. (Did my mom think she did it all wrong when I would blare AC/DC’s ‘Highway to Hell’ on my stereo everyday?) Isn’t nine a tad young for this kind of angst?

The boy sure is his mother’s son.