Failing

Today has been exceptionally rough.
I won't go into detail, because the details never seem to matter much in the long run. It could be any day really, but some days hit me harder than others.
I brought my three to the beach this afternoon, and we had a friend of my daughters come as well. I set up the beach chair and angled it so I could watch the four play. I needed these few minutes of relative calm while the kids played. I let my head rest on the back of the chair, my face angled to the sky and poured my heart out to God. I wish I could say this was the first time I had prayed this type of prayer but the truth is God has heard my cries many times. I want to know how I can be so terrible at parenting. How could I get so much wrong, so often? Why did God give me such a challenging son? There are times I want to pretend he isn't mine, to turn my back on the playground and pretend I don't know who the mother is. I don't want to have to get up again, to intervene, apologize, explain, conjole, or fix another misunderstanding between kids. At times I wish I had a diagnosis for him. How sick and twisted is that? That a mother would WISH something was officially wrong with her son? It would ease the pain and embarrassement and the reality that there isn't anything wrong with him, but rather it is maybe me. Maybe I am just not a good parent. I can't keep the tears from falling. Failing as a mother I cry to God. Please hold me, whisper in my ear, tell me this will pass and that You will carry me through and give me strength.