It Hurts When Your Kids Hurt

When my daughter was a few months old, I was nursing her as I took a bite of a sandwich. A piece of the roll fell into her hair and I felt I had let her down. Here was this tiny helpless newborn just trying to nurse when this foreign crusty thing falls on her head. She suddenly looked so vulnerable to me and in a haze of hormones and sleep deprivation, I began to cry. I was responsible for letting a messy piece of bread tangle in her downy locks. Of course, this is the most harmless thing I could have done, but the weight of my responsibility dawned on me in that moment. By the time I had my second child, I was a lot less precious and actually once had to throw up over his head when I got sick. Oh how time changes you, but being a parent can weigh heavier on your heart than I ever thought it could.

When I was pregnant, I tried to prepare myself for the reality that parenting would not always be easy. I thought of all the scary things that my husband had as a child. He poked at a wasp's nest and got stung all over his arms. He surfed into huge rocks and emerged bloody. He fell ending up face first down a hill on his skateboard resulting in a bright red racing stripe of a cut down the middle of his face. Then I thought of his three sisters. One stepped on hot beach coals as a child, badly burning her foot. Another suffered from scoliosis. The youngest ran back crying from climbing a tree with her arm dangling out of its socket. My sister and brother had their own slew of incidents and accidents. A sweatshirt zipper scraped my sister's eye, her leg broke in several places after a three story fall, my brother needed surgery after a martial arts injury and he once needed to be airlifted off the side of a mountain when he couldn't hold on anymore due to altitude sickness. Both my in-laws and my own parents had to survive not just one of these incidents but all of them.

When I was nine, my parents had a scare from me. I had a lump by my neck -- it was discovered by a teacher. I remember resenting the call she made home alarming my parents. My father took me in to the doctor the very next day. After getting examined, the doctor left me in the room to go talk to my father in his office. He left the door opened just wide enough for me to see my dad cry for the first time. Upon arriving home, my mother, who usually is pretty even, seemed rattled as she handed me a bag packed for the hospital. My parents were told my symptoms pointed to Leukemia and I stayed in the hospital a few days until an x-ray pointed to an extra cervical rib. We were all relieved to go home (I'll never hear "spare ribs" the same way again).

The past few months have been trying for my daughter. She had a tough time adjusting to middle school, she experienced anxiety in new and unwelcome ways, and she kept getting sick. She missed one day in the beginning of the school year, then another, then three here and two there, and each time it was for the same exact symptoms. In between she feels herself and has even grown to like middle school. She just seems to last a few weeks before her system runs out of steam again. In the midst of this, she auditioned for her school musical. There were eighty kids trying out and sixty got called back to dance. She got a call back and had to learn, what she described as a complicated routine. Dancing is not her strong suit and she came home feeling like she probably didn't do so well. She also came home and fell asleep. She got sick again and missed the next day of school. I knew in my gut that something was not right and brought her back in to the doctor again. Much to my chagrin, in order to get tests done, I have to wait to have an additional phone consult with a specialist. I have spent hours on the phone on hold. I learned I have new skills though, so all wasn't lost. I can take a whole shower, shave and wash my hair all while the phone sits on the side of the tub dangerously close to falling in and still be on hold when I am done.

Yesterday we learned that she did not get into the play. When we found out, it was if someone took a rope to my waist and pulled me in half. I wanted her to have this positive experience. I stayed stoic and wanted to let her have her own reaction. I know all about helicopter parents, snowplow parents and all of those clear the path type vehicles. I am guilty of jumping in too soon and trying to make my kids feel better, when sometimes they need to just feel. It is hard to watch your kids on shaky ground and not know if I should lend a hand, or let them fall.

She took the news okay. She said she kind of figured since there were sixty kids at the call back and they could only take less than half of that. She also knew she didn't dance that well. She got a bit weepy when she realized a few of her friends got in together and she was sad not to be in it with them. We don't have any answers on why she is getting sick so often, not yet anyway. My hope is that it is just something like she is low in iron, or vitamin B, or that she needs to eat more or less of a certain food and boom, problem solved. I don't love this wait and the combination of anxiety mixed with a very active imagination, results in loud negative concerns. As I try my best to quiet my mind, I also have to put on my best "its all good" mask for my sweet girl. She is on a bit of a roller coaster these days. Some days she is exhausted and emotional, and others she is strong and spunky. I can share with her how painful it is to see her hurt, but I can't show her how much it stops me in my tracks. One of us has to show the other the path to moving forward. One little step at a time.

Monday Morning!

Last night, as I went to say goodnight to my boy, my husband asked me to turn the space heater off in his room when I walk out. It's been cold lately and we put a little heater in his room just to warm it up. My husband set it to high and then I went in to cuddle before saying goodnight. Well, I fell asleep with him for a little bit and when I left an hour later in my groggy state, I forgot to turn it off. At 3am, my son calls out to me. When I walk in his room, he is shirtless, blanket less and asking why his room is so hot. Fortunately, these machines are safe and work well; unfortunately, my son was sleeping in a sauna-like room. I apologized and when he asked if he could sleep in my bed with me, my guilty conscience said yes.

My husband has been at home with us lately, which is great, but after over a year of my son taking his place in my bed when he has been gone, we have gotten used to cuddling nights. Last night he crawled between the two of us and we all went back to sleep. My husband got up early and when my son woke up, he turned to me for a hug. For the next hour, we talked, sang songs and played silly games all while we stayed in bed. This is rare! We are off our schedule due to winter break and luckily we have no where we have to be most days this week. Monday mornings are typically the most difficult day to motivate us up and out of the house. Today, I happily took my time. I thought about little tasks I had to do today. I wondered about the timing of getting groceries and a running a few other errands. I wanted to make some plans for fun activities for the kids so I didn't want to linger in bed too long, but there was no way I was going to cut short this one on one time with my boy.

He talked about school and confided in me how scared he gets when he has to explain his work out loud. He talked about his teachers and why he loves them. He explained how great Fridays are because they get extra recess time. He sang the song they are learning in school and taught me all the words and hand motions. He asked what "Watermelon Sugar" by Harry Styles was about and I confessed that I had no idea. We then wrote our own lyrics that made more sense. At one point, we were talking about so many different topics that he turned to me and asked "What were we just discussing?" I couldn't help but giggle at his use of the word "discussing." In that moment, staring into his brown eyes, I took a mental picture of the moment. His cheeks still round, and his mouth a mash up of mostly baby teeth with a few adult ones sprinkled in front. His hair soft and tousled from sleep, his skin still baby soft. This little boy still wants to hug me and still wants to be hugged. He still asks to sit on my lap and when he needs to will cry in the crook of my neck. Almost without warning, he hopped out of bed to start his day. I stayed behind a few minutes more just to saver how full I felt. With a smile on my face I slowly got out of bed.

I don't know how many more mornings I will get like this one. Mondays are my least favorite day of the week, but this one was wonderful. When we are off from school, I feel like we all get closer. We let ourselves truly slow down. My kids have more time to spend with each other and I see them bond during vacations in a way they don't during the regular school year. We make plans as a family and the four of us spend concentrated amounts of time together. We have a whole week more off and I am looking forward to every second we have. Next Monday certainly will be more challenging when we have to get up and go to school again. I hear in some other countries, in addition to sick days, children are allowed a few free days to travel or just be together with family. I would love to start a movement to have that here. I might get a few more mornings like today, and that would be worth it.

Rituals

In Kindergarten, my daughter's teacher read them "The Kissing Hand" on the first day of school. From that day on it became our ritual to kiss her hand before she said goodbye at the door. She even asked for an extra kiss for her hand at bedtime. Today, before walking across the bridge to middle school she holds out her hand for me to kiss. It gives her that extra little sense of security. It also has become such a habit of ours, that it has  become second nature now.

My two kids are at a great age right now. We are out of the baby phase. We can pretty much pack a bag in a few minutes and take off to go anywhere. The kids are easy to travel with, they are adventurous diners, they like to hike and bike with us, and they can have a great conversations now. Sure, occasionally there is a meltdown, even I have them now and again, but the kids are generally much easier these days. We are having a lot of fun together as a family in a way that I have been looking forward to for quite sometime and I am grateful.

Recently, the kids and I went on a bike ride with some friends. There were three other moms and nine kids. We rode for about ten miles and I was so impressed how well my kids were keeping up. There was no complaining, whining, or tears. Granted, there were other kids watching them, so having a freak out is far less likely when you are with your peers, but I was still proud of them. My friend and I talked about the kids ages right now and how much fun we are having, then we allowed ourselves to get a bit nostalgic about when they boys met back in preschool. We can't believe how that phase is just over. She mentioned this book that acknowledges the "lasts" of parenting and how so many people focus on the "firsts" but the last diaper you change is certainly worthy of celebrating.

There are so many little rituals that we have in our family. Some of which are phasing out naturally. We used to sing the same three songs to our first baby and when she grew out of lullabies we passed them on to number two. Quite a few nights have gone by without the bedtime singing ritual. My son doesn't sit on my lap for a bedtime book anymore either, but instead sits beside me while we read on our own. I miss holding him, but I love the new rituals too.

There are no more nap times, high chairs or onesies at our house. There is a baby gate up though and a small puppy who isn't quite potty trained yet. When I get impatient at how many accidents she has, I remind myself how very quickly each phase goes and that she won't be this small for long. Before I know it, we will be all be missing this sweet puppy time and marveling at how big she has gotten. So for now, I will enjoy all our rituals before it morphs into the next phase.

December 1st

In my early twenties I moved out here to Los Angeles. I found what I thought to be an amazing housing situation with two roommates on the bottom floor of a beautiful Spanish duplex. I found out about it from the woman who was moving out. That alone should have tipped me off, but the rent was so inexpensive and the place so nice, I couldn't see beyond those details. The two women I moved in with had zero social skills and rarely came out of their rooms. When they did though, our interactions were always so uncomfortable. I ended up staying there way longer than I should have and began planning to move out when things went from weird to worse.

There were some bizarre things going on in that house.  It was hard enough having to share a kitchen and bathroom with these two, but when they brought home men it got even stranger. There was a very nice elderly man who lived next door with his quiet wife. He was friendly and would always say hello in the front of the house. One day he came in to spend time with one of my roommates and not long after, he was frequently staying over. I believe he was in his eighties and if I am not mistaken my roommate was under thirty. It is not my place to judge, but it was time for me to go. I gave my notice and my move out date was December first. The series of events that happened in that last month were so odd that I wrote a play to help me countdown the days. Performing and hearing people laugh about it, was imperative to me to be able to make it to move out day. The play was called "December 1st."

It took me another few apartments and another roommate situation to learn I really just wanted to live alone. I found a great bungalow and lived there for a few years until moving in with my now husband. I loved my apartment and was so happy to have my own space.When we decided to get married, we were looking for a date in November. We had our hearts set on a certain venue and the first available date that worked for all of us was December 1st. We took it and began planning our wedding. It wasn't until I made up save the date cards that I realized that the date was familiar. It made me happy to know how far I had come away from that period of time in my life. So much so that it took me so long to remember the date had any significance to me in the past.

Our wedding date arrived on a crisp cool day. We gathered with friends and family to share our commitment to love one another. We welcomed our daughter within the year and a few years following we had our son. Two years ago we celebrated our ten year anniversary by renewing our vows with our children. Our life is full and every year is a gift. We just celebrated our twelfth anniversary! This year has had many challenges which we handled with the kind of partnership I thought might not actually exist in real life, but I'm glad I was wrong. I got a good one and I am looking forward to many more years with him. Which is in some ways surprising because I swore off ever having another roommate and now I have three. He was worth taking another chance on, but I do wish he wouldn't leave his socks everywhere. Our daughter does it too, so it must be genetic.

Personal Day

Things have been busy lately. Between my kids schedules, new puppy and my husband being out of town for work, I have felt spread a bit thin. My husband finally came back this past week, but got stomach flu and was sick on the whole flight home. We set up a room to quarantine him at home and did our best to stay away. I began fantasizing about what a day or two alone would feel like. A vacation would do me good. One night at a hotel to read my book uninterrupted sounded lovely. I am pretty sure, before I could imagine how I would swing a solo day, I was interrupted by one of my children asking me for yet another snack. I let the idea go for the time being.

After a weekend of running around to birthday parties, tennis practice and puppy training. I was happy to sit and have dinner with friends one night. It was fun to catch up and I of course stayed too late. I started Sunday tired and decided to lay low. My husband was feeling well enough to come out with us for a bit so we got outside to enjoy the beautiful weather. For the first time in a few weeks I felt a sense of relaxation and normalcy.  It was welcomed.

We went back home to get ready for the week. We have been trying to have dinner early enough on Sundays that we can also have a bit of a weekly game night. Even if we only end up playing a few rounds of a card game, it would be fun to start that tradition. Of course, a new toy as well as a food coloring experiment were to blame for not giving us enough time for a game. My husband and kids settled for a quick wrestling match before settling down to read. It was about that time that I felt chills and needed to lie down.

My husband, who fortunately is in town and available more this week, is feeling well enough to be available for the kids. He made sure they got to bed, fed them breakfast this morning and got them to school. I now have the stomach flu. It is horrible, gross and exhausting. I am not in a hotel, and this is no vacation, but everyone is leaving me alone. My book is next to me and I plan to read some when I can lift my head again. Not quite what I was picturing, but at least it is quiet.

What Others Think

My sister in law does a mean impersonation of a monkey. It's loud, funny and is incredibly authentic. When my daughter was two or three, she was so entertained by it. Eventually she was imitating her Aunt and making some impressive monkey sounds herself. One night we were leaving a restaurant and our daughter started making her monkey sounds. We had her do it again so we could video to send to her Aunt. She did it once and then we asked her to do one more. She started and mid-monkey — she stopped, looked around and said "I don't want to do it again, because then the people on the street will say 'why is that little girl making monkey sounds.’ That was the first time we recognized her awareness to what others think of her.

When I was little, my mother, a pianist, had me do recitals with her. I had a pretty big voice for a little kid and I loved singing. We performed once for my grandmother's senior center and someone made me a gown to wear. I walked out onto the stage, my mother played the first few notes and I began to sing. As soon as I did, the audience began to laugh. I was only three, but I knew then that I did not like that they were laughing at me. My mother later explained that they laughed because I was so little, and that they were laughing because they were happy. I felt like unless I was making a joke, it didn't feel good to be laughed at.

We all want our children to be those confident kids who don't care what anyone thinks of them, but most kids really do care how others perceive them. I think my two kids care a bit more than they should sometimes. There are times that their concern with how they look or what their will friends say matters too much and can get in the way of them getting out the door in the morning. If something doesn't look or feel just right to my son, he gets really upset. He is more opinionated on fashion than I think a seven year old should be. Both kids are very particular about their clothes and shoes. It can feel impossible at times to find them clothes they will actually like and wear. Suddenly, I have a new found respect for schools with a uniform policy in place. If only I could buy my kids two outfits, and those were their only choices each day.

The seemingly impossible notion of balance keeps popping up. I am honestly not sure that balance is attainable, but I keep trying for it anyway. My goal as a parent is to acknowledge my kid's feelings when insecurities show up, while encouraging them to be who they are and own their choices. This has not yet been fully successful and my kids see through my plans most of the time, but never the less she persisted. I don't give up that easily. If I can get my daughter through her teens years with even a trace amount of self esteem left, we will have accomplished something major. I am hoping for more than just an ounce of confidence, but it's a jungle out there.

Wait For It...

Patience is not a skill that I have mastered. I have improved greatly since living in New York, but I still struggle to let things happen naturally. I hear "be the squeaky wheel" in my head and I can't help but react. It is not easy to know when to sit back, and when to take action. I am learning though where energy is wasted, and where it is helpful. I get irritated when I am standing in a long line at the grocery store, or when food takes a while at a restaurant. I get antsy sitting in traffic, or watching the spinning wheel on a computer screen. I know though that these situations are out of my control. The time is not going to magically reappear so acceptance is my best option.

Being patient is having the ability to remain calm when there is disruption, a disappointment, or distress. When patience is mastered it has a positive side. I've read that the more patient a person is the more sensitive and empathetic they are to those around them. That part makes total sense to me. If I am waiting behind someone who can't find their wallet and needs a few minutes to regroup, I can throw my hands up in irritation, or I can observe the situation and understand that the person in front of me is having a hard time. It could easily be me on a different day, so understanding that helps me take a deep breath and maybe even smile to show that person a little compassion.

Aside from the day-to-day minor irritations, patience is required when in conflict with others. When I am upset or arguing with someone, I still need to hear what they have to say. It can be challenging to resist the temptation to interrupt or to even walk out of the room. At some point or another, lack of patience when upset has occurred for all of us. A few years ago after snapping one too many times at my son, I researched keeping calm in trying times of parenting. I landed on some article that explained that when your child is upset, getting upset with them sends them into a whole other level of upset. To some degree, I agree with that. If my son is sad because someone was a jerk to him, I'll be responding with patience and understanding. If a child was a jerk to my son and then my son is a jerk back, I am going to get upset. This article was saying keep your cool no matter what. I didn't last very long following those instructions. When my buttons get pushed my patience runs thinner.

Of all the times that require patience in life, the most challenging for me is during life's hardships. During major changes, being in the middle of a project that I am struggling with, losing a loved one, are just some examples of when I feel most impatient. Sitting in an uncomfortable moment in time can make me impatient. I am learning, ever so slowly, that it is okay to be uncomfortable sometimes. My tendency is to want to get through the hard parts fast. I like to figure out the quickest way out of discomfort and the reality is sometimes life is sad, frustrating and unclear. My daughter was so unhappy the first few weeks of middle school with not knowing her way around. At some point we all get lost, and that is the way to learn your way back.

I am a little lost these days. Our family has had a few hardships and it is not the easiest time. We are getting through it together, but it may take us all longer than we want it to to feel a sense of normal. I am feeling more patient with myself than I have ever felt before. I see that it is possible to learn skills to be more patient and I am applying them whenever possible. I am also ok losing my patience once in a while. As long as I can find it again.