It's my party

So I cried at the party - well, almost. I teared up and put on a smile and then waited until there was a minute to escape to the laundry room and cut loose. The reason for my tears - no it wasn't my birthday (although I am getting old, it doesn't make me cry) - it's my boy. My dear sweet boy brought me to tears. I don't have cute blogging nicknames for my kids yet. What should I call #1 son - the boy who makes me cry?, athlete?, artist?, probably ADD but unmedicated? - those are the bits and pieces of him. I guess what sums him up is Tween. I KNOW it's terribly trendy - it's a snotty new word that I don't particularly like but it is him. Now you could read that wrong and think he was snotty kid that I don't particularly like - that would be completely wrong, I love him absolutely, totally, completely. I had such a love affair with DD my first child that when I got pregnant with number two, I worried, "Will I be able to love this baby?" I loved number one so much, how would it be possible to love number two as well? I worried about this and so many other things that I spent part of my pregnancy on the couch of a very kind counselor whose name I can't remember. (He prescribed Prozac for me but that's a whole 'nother story!) So I love him. But he's Tween - he is definitely Tween by birth order - he is my "middle child" - I usually follow that up with "in every sense of the word". I'm a middle child, I know all about middle children. Attention seekers, usually naughty, NEEDY, NEEDY, NEEDY - middle child. And he is needy. He sometimes doesn't seem to know which end is up. So his lovely fifth grade teacher was at the party, she loves a good Tween story and despite school only being one week started, I had a good one for her. It wasn't as good as when after the six week unit on the Civil War he asked her in all sincerity, "Well, who won? " but it was close. But then the follow up came from his sixth grade teacher who is also at the party - he just seems lost in middle school. And that affirmed all my fears. He needs so much guidance during the day, he is so NOT independent, he is so quick to get angry at his mistakes and to retaliate for any perceived injustice, I worry he will get lost in middle school. And as I crack a joke about my parenting skills, I feel the tears come. And his lovely fifth grade teacher sees, and his wonderful sixth grade teacher sees, and they are so full of compassion and kindness that it just. makes. it. worse! How will I survive this? I want to take him home and just shelter him and then when he's home for a day I want to ship him off to boarding school. So I cried at the party, and I'll probably cry at the carpool line, and at the teacher conference, and at the PTO meeting, and at some point I'll have to dry the tears and grow up and figure out what to do. But for now ...