“It’s Like Keeping Your Heart Outside of Your Body”

I’m looking at a second summer of not being with the Fiend very much.  I know that the decision is probably for the best, that she will have a great time with her grandparents, that making the choices I’m currently making is laying the groundwork for a better future for both of us.  Yet I can’t shake the weight in my heart about it.

There are a lot of things about these choices that have me feeling a bit out to sea.  But this is the biggest piece.  There are times when I looked at the Fiend and my heart feels like it is going to explode.  I am so proud of the person she is and the one she’s becoming.  I am filled with wonder at her intelligence and her talent, her spirit and her heart.

I know I have to show her how to be a happy, centered and fulfilled person.  I know that sometimes means making hard choices.  I know that I have to be a strong person to help her become one.

But how do you do that when your heart is hundreds of miles away?

Roller Skating

On New Year’s Day, the Fiend went roller skating for the very first time.  There was all the excitement and anticipation of trying something new.  The rink was packed and the sight of all the other kids squirming impatiently to get going just increased this.

 

We finally got into the rink and went to get skates.  The Fiend was absorbing everything, the flashing lights, the loud music, the painted teenagers and the movement in the rink.  She was a bit hesitant but still open to the idea. 

The family we were meeting up with skated over and showed us where to stow our coats.  Then we sat on one of benches and put on the skates.  Right about that time a boy approximately the Fiend’s age did an epic face plant right in front of where we were sitting.  She turned to me and said, “Ok.  I’m ready to take my skates off now.”

I told falling was part of it, but it wasn’t so bad.  I told her the skating was a lot of fun.  Her response?  ”Falling is not fun.  Falling means you get hurt.  If I fall I could hurt my belly or my back or my bum or my face.  Especially my face.  That is not fun.”

 

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.  See the boy is back up and skating around again.  I think you should try.  I brought you here because I wanted you to try.” I countered, smiling encouragingly.

 

“So you are telling me that you want me to get hurt.”

 

My expression must have been priceless.  “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.  I want you to try.”

 

The Fiend raised her eyebrows and cocked her head.  When she makes this face I know I am in for it.  “If I try I will fall.  And if I fall I will get hurt, maybe even on my face.  So you are saying you want me to get hurt.  On my face.”

I continued to try and reason with her.  She was not having it.  Our friend John tried to help.  He got her as far as the little practice area.  She clung tenaciously to the railing and scowled furiously at both of us.  “I can not do this.” she said.  She raised a shaking finger and pointed it at me, “I hate you for bringing me here.”  John released a bark of laughter.  It’s not as though I can blame him.  It was hilarious.  And he did try not to laugh.

 

Unfortunately it just drew her attention.  She moved her quivering finger and poked it toward him.  “I hate you for having the idea”.

 

We all finally came to the conclusion that we needed to leave the Fiend to her own grumpy devices and show her that skating could indeed be fun.  I hadn’t been on roller skates in about a decade, so I spent my first few rounds hugging the wall.  Just when I thought I had it I miraculously found myself on my ass.  I am fairly certain my tailbone is now dust.

 

Fortunately the Fiend did not see this.  I was surprised to discover her clinging to the rail on my next circuit.  I stopped and asked if she wanted me to skate with her.  “No, just keep skating and don’t look at me.”

She crawled along the wall, hugging the railing the whole time.  When she was about halfway around they declared backwards skate.  Brilliant.

 

John took her by the hands and skated backward pulling her off the rink.  She looked much like Bambi on ice.  I told her to pay attention to her feet and try to keep them under her.  She did and miraculously started to do pretty well. 

John made the mistake of telling her that right as they reached the exit point.  She grimaced and said, “No I’m not!”  At which point she looked up from her feet, pulled on her arms and drove her skates into John’s.  John’s legs flew out behind him and the both went down, John on top.

 

I figured that was the game.  We all decided to continue to skate, and the Fiend sat on the bench watching.  Then I saw her stand up, shake her head once and make her way to the rink.  She stepped out on the floor.  She held the rail with only one hand.  And she started to skate.

 

She still didn’t want any of us to skate with her at first.  Then she started to have fun.  Then she let John take one of her hands and me take the other.  We did four circles before they announced it was time to go.

She frowned and looked up at me.  “Already?  I was just having fun!”

The Saga Continues…

I got pulled aside while picking The Fiend up at rec again.  This time it was by the woman who runs the program.  It was about the not listening thing.  Apparently something we still need to work on.

The difference was I didn’t feel attacked in this conversation.  It was explained to me that one of the tactics they use with the kids is if they don’t comply with requests after a few tries the if-you-can’t-cooperate-we-will-have-to-talk-to-Mom-or-Dad card gets pulled.  Obviously to make it an effective tactic they actually have to tell Mom or Dad.  Makes sense to me.

The rec leader was very open to discussion.  She assured me that they think The Fiend is a great kid and that this is a temporary problem.  Letting me know was a disciplinary tactic, but also a way to get backup from me regarding the issue.  She pointed out that even the older kids have a hard time listening from time to time. 

I took the opportunity to voice my concerns regarding Amy’s response to The Fiend’s earlier apology.  The rec leader explained that she has been working with Amy to learn to not focus so much on being the kid’s friends and focus more on being the adult.  She let me know that she was modeling this ability for Amy.

In that moment I realized Amy was not picking on The Fiend, she just didn’t know how to handle her.  Here was a young woman struggling to learn how to deal with kids, and a big rowdy group of kindergarteners at that.  The Fiend, as you may have gathered from earlier posts, is not your typical kindergartener.  A kid like her would be pretty intimidating to an unseasoned child care provider.

The Fiend and I talked about this on the way home.  I told her that Amy was still learning how to take care of kids.  I let her know that I would be proud if she worked hard to help Amy by listening and cooperating.  She seemed to understand and get excited about the prospect of being a helper to Amy.  We had a great conversation.  Right up until I told her that she wouldn’t be having any desert for not listening again at rec, a previously agreed upon consequence.  Things got pretty quiet and grumpy after that.

Ah well, you can’t make everybody happy all of the time.

The Sweetness

She wraps her arms around one of mine and snuggles in.  I feel the warmth of her breath and smell her freshly washed hair.  She sighs, expressing the contentment we both feel.

These are the moments that I live for.  When the frantic pace of work, school, laundry, dinner, dishes subsides and we are still.  It is in these moments I breathe deeply and feel whole.  I experience an incredible peace and an overwhelming wave of love for this amazing being beside me.

I can let go of the stress of my job, the pressure of maintaining a house and the strain of making ends meet.  It is one of the few moments in the day where I am really present.  At those times the only thing that exists is us.  It is perfect.

There is nothing that compares to the love you have for your children.  It is a depth of feeling you would not believe possible until you are blessed by it.  You become greater as a result.  You come to expect more of yourself because you realize what you are truly capable of.

You learn you have reserves of strength that are deep.  You discover that you have infinite patience…most of the time.  You uncover gifts you did not know you had.

It is the most fulfilling job you will ever have.  It is the most rewarding obligation you will ever accept.  It is the most profound sweetness you will ever know.

How to Determine if the Rec Staff Has it in for Your Five Year Old

The Fiend was at it again.  That evil child bit another kid at rec.  Well maybe she didn’t bite exactly.  She put her mouth on another kid.  But it left a red mark.  And we don’t put our mouths on other people.

I don’t want to diminish the whole its-unacceptable-to-bite-people thing.  I am a firm believer in non-biting.  I’m a big supporter of the anti-biting doctrine.  I expect The Fiend to keep her incisors to herself.

I really have my doubts as to whether my daughter gumming another child is report worthy.  It’s right up there with the “she’s looking at me” offense.  It seems to me to be one of those things that you deal with in the moment and let go of.

But apparently Amy found it important enough to flag me down as I was trying to usher The Fiend out the door in order to make her appointment on time.  I listened to the story go from biting to kind of biting to The Fiend putting her mouth on another girl.  The Fiend relayed the girl and she had been playing and the girl started to tease her.  The Fiend got frustrated and admittedly inappropriately mock bit the girl.  Didn’t actually bite her, but pretended to.  The important piece of evidence; it left a little red mark.  Obviously a condemnation-worthy event.

I did my motherly duty and explained to The Fiend that biting, even without using teeth, is never acceptable.  She acknowledged the truth of this.  I asked if she had apologized.  She told me she had and Amy corroborated.  It took every scrap of patience I had left after my long day dealing with distressed clients and distressing coworkers to not have a mini temper tantrum regarding why if the whole incident had so nicely resolved itself we were even talking about it.

I can’t help but come away from this situation feeling as though this young woman has it in for The Fiend.  When I have asked other staffers in rec if The Fiend is listening or if there have been problems they always give me a funny look and say she is doing fine.  And although I agree with Amy that The Fiend shouldn’t put her mouth on other kids, at the very least because other kids are nasty, I feel as though it was painted as a much larger issue than it was.  I wonder if she talked to the other girl’s parents about teasing other kids.  I wonder if they were as annoyed by the conversation as I was.

Maybe I’m a mother blind to the faults and failings of her own child.  I somehow doubt it.  Perhaps the issue is more I don’t take kindly to other people dinging The Fiend for her mistakes.  That is slightly more likely.

It is so hard to know when you are coddling and when you taking legitimate affront to unfair attacks.  I expect The Fiend to behave well in all her interactions.  And she does for the most part.  I don’t want to turn a blind eye to burgeoning behavior issues.  At the same time I don’t want to have all my interactions with her discipline related. 

The ultimate goal is a balance.  Being an advocate and a teacher.  Having reasonable expectations and a workable plan for dealing with obstacles.  Praising when appropriate and correcting when necessary.  Loving absolutely through all of it.

It takes faith and trust in yourself and your child.  Parenting is a tightrope walk.  And there is no safety net or do-over.

Ruminations on Kindergarten

My daughter is starting kindergarten on Monday.  Let me repeat this, my daughter, the small creature who at one point delighted in playing soccer with my internal organs, the baby who used to fit neatly in the crook of my arm, the kid who was the terror of the toddler room, is starting kindergarten. 

When The Fiend was younger people would say things to me along the lines of, “Make the most of this time while it lasts” or “They grow up so fast”.  These pearls of wisdom most often came in response to The Fiend screaming at the top of her lungs in the grocery store or after an incident of over the top honesty toddler style (Mommy that guy has boobs!).  In that context I found them terribly annoying.

If someone were to say either of these things to me today, I might burst into tears.  How did this happen?  How did five years go by without my noticing?  How is it possible that I got old enough to have a kid in kindergarten?

This precocious and spirited kid is about to be unleashed on the public school system I can’t help but have two thoughts.  “She’s grown up so fast” and “Her teacher has no idea what’s she’s in for.”

The Fiend is no longer a baby or a toddler or a preschooler.  She is a school aged child.  This is all at once awe-inspiring, flabbergasting and exciting.  But mostly it’s scary.  Up until yesterday I drove her to preschool and left her in the care of no less than three teachers.  The bathroom was right inside the classroom.  They didn’t go to a cafeteria for lunch.  And did I mention there were three sets of adult eyes at all times?

On Monday I will place my most precious possession on a school bus full of children, none of whom will be wearing seat belts.  The bus driver will be the one to make sure she doesn’t climb out the window, run up and down the aisle while the bus is in motion or try to climb out the escape hatch.  If you know The Fiend you understand these things, as well as others that I can’t even conceive of, are well within the realm of possibility.

The adult at the end of the ride will be the one to guide her to her classroom when she gets off the bus at school.  I will have to believe the person charged with the task is up to the challenge.  I will have to accept that The Fiend’s legs are short so it won’t be too hard to catch her when she eventually tries to escape.

The teachers and administrators will have the task of ensuring that she doesn’t get lost or decide to exploring on the way back from a bathroom break. I will have to will myself not to panic at the thought of The Fiend with a hall pass.

I will have to accept that all these folks have been doing this for a long time.  There are systems in place, checks and balances.  Surely losing a kindergartener is a rare experience.  But The Fiend is pretty rare.

Of course the reality is The Fiend is a bright, well-behaved (for everyone but me) kid.  I know that the teachers and busdrivers and adminstrators are highly competent, perhaps more so than I.  Everything will be fine.  In fact it will probably go swimmingly.  She may never want to come home.

Then why do I wake up in the middle of the night worried the teacher will be a slave to procedure who will make it her life’s goal the break The Fiend’s sassy spirit?  Or sweat when I see a schoolbus?  Or cry everytime I see a backpack? 

Obviously innumberable mothers and children have succesfully navigated this process.  There is no reason to think that we are so unique that we should be any different.  And not all the feelings are bad.  I swell with pride when she talks about how she’s going to ride the school bus and learn to read and eat in the cafeteria.  I am pleased as punch to see her so excited to ride the bus.  I smile broadly when she checks and rechecks her backpack to make sure everything is in order.  

I think the thing that is so difficult about kindergarten is the realization that time is short.  Your baby is no longer a baby.  Even though The Fiend has been in daycare from 18 months on, being in school seems so different.  I’m not ready to let her go yet, not even a little.  But she is ready.  My little girl is embarking on the epic journey of education which inevitably will lead to her leaving the nest.  I miss her already.