Not a Mother's Love

My sensitive son has begun to experience the harsh realities of the world and he is now trespassing in a place where my love is not the consolation it once was.

Earlier this week he came to us crushed because the extended day children (aka the 5yos) told him he was too little to be in extended day - the afternoon part of Montessori. He was sincerely crushed that he could not have the perceived benefits of extended day children - the ability to leave your work out and continue to explore. He seemed so distraught that his peers saw him as unacceptable.

The most recent episode involved his nearly constant fixation with meat-eating. As vegetarians, we have explained why we don't eat meat and he understands where meat comes from and that you need to hunt and kill the animal when you eat it. However, the reality set in last night when he looked at me, eyes filled with tears, and said "But if you eat meat then the chicken can't be with its baby." I made him repeat it to be sure I heard correctly. He was so intense, so hurt and amazingly beautiful. And nothing I could do or say could make his pain better. In the end, he consoled himself. "I have an idea. Maybe another chicken can come be with the baby chicken."

One of my personal flaws is that I want to fix the problems of the people I love. I want to spare them the pain of their struggle - to remove it entirely. It hurts too much to watch them struggle. I can't bear it with my son - I want to cry when I see that he understands and feels the cold, ugly realities of our world. I can no longer shield him. I can't take it away and I can't make it better. I'm left a bumbling idiot holding him as his beautiful black eyes cloud over in a pool of tears.

I hold on to the hope that he will find a safe harbor for his disappointment with the world and over time he will be compelled to resist and create change.

Lessons

Always having been a perfectionist, I detest my own shortcomings. I imprison myself in a tomb of unrealistic expectations, sinking deeper in despair when I am unable to be the unattainable version of who I expect myself to be. My inability to escape the prison that I built is equally disgusting. The cycle of disappointment in myself sends unwanted ripples out around me -- accompanied by more despair as I hurt the only people kind and patient enough to love me.

Recently I learned that the whole scenario described above is unacceptable and untolerable. I'm determined to break through and move beyond the walls of the prison to a place where I am free to be someone less restricted. Some days I find myself in a lonely valley, a recently-released prisoner adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces and in a scary new environment. Other days my flesh tingles with the ecstatic feeling of release.

My father, poster child for the mentally ill, routinely uses the phrase, "It is what it is." My son, also, knows the beauty of the world and has an inspiring grip on the important kernels of a meaningful life. I love that I learn most from a toddler and an insane old man.

Rainbows Make the World Fresh

I had a day like in the Dido song where she had a crappy day, was late to work, got rained on and came home to see someone special and ended up having the best day of her life.

Amidst the sticky humid weather, a cranky/stressed out spouse, an overstimulated child and my own stress related to three assignments due in the next three days, my son says:

Rainbows make the world fresh.

"I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life."

Dozens More

My partner and I celebrated our 12 year anniversary last week. Our lives have been too hectic lately with both of us working and taking classes and raising a son to have any quality time together. We try to squeeze a few hours together among the insanity of our schedule. It's never enough. We get a sitter for a few hours one night, and when we see each other again at the end of the next long day our first response is "I missed you."

Currently we overcome many obstacles to make life and love work for us - insane workloads, an ailing house, too little money, a beautiful energetic son. Over the last twelve years we've encountered more challenges than I care to remember - many more difficult than our current daily demands.

I'm amazed and thrilled at our endurance. It's good we're both stubborn and persistant and strong. Weaker folks might have given up years back. We're road weary most days, but the drive continues to be worth it.

When I'm tired and have little to offer, I look over to see her beautiful smile and the light in her eyes and I know it's all worth it and I just have to try harder. She deserves much more than I can give. I'm thankful she finds my meager attempts satisfying.

Our hum is just as present as it was a dozen years ago. Our older selves may have trouble hearing, but if we adjust the hearing aid, we find it's ever present.

Unit 1

Despite the fact that it's late-May, our weather is cold. Two days ago we sent our son to child care without a sweatshirt. He came home wearing a school "extra" - a gray hoodie on which the school had written in permanent marker on the front "Unit 1". He was wearing the Unit 1 sweatshirt again tonight when we picked him up and he didn't want to take it off. So we went about our evening with our branded son (all in public places, of course.)

Having been away on business for three days, I was particularly looking forward to spending time with him and was paying very close attention to him. What I saw amazed me. Every day, even the hard ones, it is easy for me to appreciate what a great person he is, but tonight blew me away.

He was at his emotive, intuitive and cognitive best tonight. Every time he opened his mouth his responses delighted, tickled and amazed me. For example:

We were adding more lavender essential oil to the diffuser in our car. He likes to smell the oil, so we handed him the cap to sniff. He asked us why we used the smelly stuff and we said that lavender helps us find balance. He went on sniffing and playing with the cap and then he said, "This will help balance when I ride the scooter."

He is thoughtful and intelligent and imaginative and I am so proud of him. Tonight I felt like we were best friends and that we were connecting on the same level. Whether he's mature or I'm childish, I don't know or care. I caught a glimpse into his personality that I haven't seen wholistically before. Watching him unfold is a blessing.

Summertime Parenting...Enter Values Conflicts

Summer is on and the kids are out - the bigs ones, the little ones and all are being closely watched by my son.

The boy closest in age to my son lives directly across the street, in constant view of my 3yo's careful eyes. What's more the boy likes to play outside and ALWAYS wants to play with my son. Suffice it to say that his parents share diffent values than we do. The child owns a plethora of guns, is entertained by TV often and plays many of the shoot-em-up games on his Xbox. He asked my son yesterday what his favorite cartoon is? My son didn't understand the question. Our reality is no TV, no exposure to violence - DEFINITELY no guns. I like our reality better. Bottom line: My son LOVES the neighbor kid and won't stand to be outside without playing with him. Of course.

Enter the medium-sized kids. These would be the ones racing their bikes up and down the street, rough and callous in their interaction with the pint-size kids (my own included) and routinely putting them down. The father of my son's playmate instructs his son not to invite "those big kids" to play with him. "Why?" asks the son. "Because they're no good. They're not nice to you."

Prior to the onset of warm weather I would be the first person to spout off the idea that "all children are inherently good." But the father is right, the pre-tweens are meean and rough and I'd rather they didn't come around my son. I'd rather my son didn't see them racing around, enthralled by the fact they ride their bikes "like racecar drivers" on the street, unconcerned with who or what they mow down. I'd rather he didn't hear them put people down, call them stupid. Are they bad kids? I still say no, but I feel the parent in me sigh in relief when we step outside and they're nowhere in sight.

Now come the big kids. They play basketball in the street, complete with girls chasing them in cars with the stereo blasting. The girls watch the boys play out their machismo with the added bonus of full testicular adjustment. The boys wrestle and play word games, each trying to out-cool the other. I wonder is there anything authentic in this social display? I know what this looks like as they mature and it doesn't get any prettier.

I'm not ready for other people's boundaries to encroach on my son's world. I'm not ready to explain to him the things in the world that I've tried for 3 years to shield him from. I like my isolation, thank you very much. When he's older (don't ask me when) and he's a great critical thinker, I'll debate these things with him. I want his childhood to be pure.

Nature always prevails and I will not get my way and my son will see all of the action on our street. I hear my brother saying, "What if he wants to be a football player?"

Dusting Myself Off

So, I had a serious fall the last week, but I'm getting back up and picking up the pieces. I faltered when I saw myself slipping into a parental role modeled during my childhood, one that I don't want to emulate. Knowing that I have shed much of my own skin, I realize that I am also capable of freeing myself of the urge to parent in ways I was parented. Since this revelation the 3yo and I have been completely at peace and I have freed myself to settle into the parent I want to be for now, with this child, as he presents himself to me now.

I see him struggling on a personal level, looking for his own place in the world, trying to get his bearings. The reality that he is a little person, no longer a baby, struck me with a great force. Prepared I was not. (Anyone hear Yoda?)

An Evening with Kevin Smith

So, media-moron or not, I can sort out some great thinking when I see it. To celebrate the end of a semester, we rented An Evening with Kevin Smith (two whole DVDs of fun!). It's just so damned refreshing! I should buy this just to have on hand for those days when I'm looking at life just a little too seriously.

As those who love me know, that happens too often.

Toe to the Line

I never thought I would be here, with my toes on the edge of a line I never thought I'd come close to, not to mention contemplate crossing.

Today I shook my son and snarled "When you're at school you nap!"

I wanted him to nap. He does it every other day and it appears to be a non-event when he's at child care. Not for me. Sleep is pulling teeth without novacaine.

If only he didn't look at me with a complete devil in his eye, smiling at his success in exhausting every last ounce of patience I have.

How did I get to this place of bitterness and anger, so quick to want to snap at him and on the verge of wanting to hit him? (Yikes, that was hard to write.) It seems to have snuck up on me so quickly.

It's common for there to be days when he's a handful (what kid isn't?), but recently he's not a handful, he's a nightmare. And I'm turning into the scariest part.

How do I stop him from screaming or throwing or hitting or kicking? He seems to revel in every limitation I place on him. He seems nonplussed by my every attempt to alter his behavior.

I am terrified this sudden outburst of hideous life with a 3yo will not cease when the magic pink medicine does. If the medication isn't the culprit, I'm not sure how to go on with this maelstrom in my house without raging back at him.

I never thought I would feel hatred for my son, but today I tasted it and it was ugly. Today my love felt conditional and I'm disgusted by my limitations.

Resistance is Fertile

The bumper sticker on my truck says More Powerful than Any Religion. People often ask me what is more powerful. There are many forces one cannot resist and watching one struggle against such forces is both comedy and tragedy.

Life contains more ecstasy and more struggle than I am capable of absorbing. The overflow causes riptides that carry me far from shore. Some days I tread water for hours; others I drown.

My son’s will is the greatest force I have witnessed in my lifetime, barring forces of nature.

Absence and longing are powerful forces. The intricacies of friendships and love maintained through time and across long distances both bruise and ripen a soul.

My fortitude to keep going is resistance enough for now.

May Cause Drowsiness

My son has been sick for the last three days. Not so great that he had a fever over 100 for two evenings, but blessedly sweet for me since bedtime was a breeze (not the typical struggle) and it came early. Yeah, personal time for Mama!

Then came last night. A visit to the doctor yesterday resulted in a trip to the pharmacy to pick up an antibiotic and some other concoction to prevent boogerville. So I am pleasantly excited when I see the "May Cause Drowsiness" warning on BOTH bottles. I'm thinking another easy bedtime and begin making mental notes about how I'll use my free time.

Ha! Twenty minutes after the pharmaceuticals hit his bloodstream it's as if he did a line of coke. The next two hours present some of the best entertainment and frustration thus far in my experience with parenthood. Hell, I ran two miles last night, but this single bedtime stint was harder than that.

While I did dissolve into a ball of tears from the frustration of the 2-hour bedtime routine and his apparent thrill over hitting me, what emerges once I regain clarity is most hysterical.

Here are my favorites:

• Child nursing (I'm thinking he's settling down for peaceful slumber), only to quickly pull himself off the breast to break into a loud rendition of "The Old Man is Snoring." I didn't realize the significance of the line "He bumped his head and didn't get up in the morning" until later.



• During our discussion about gender and the physical traits one has if one is male/female, he determined that our friend Kepola is a man. She is a bearded lady, so he's clearly aware of the thin veil of our black and white definition of male and female. Or, it could be he was hallucinating.



• We're rocking, chilling out as best he can in a drug-induced stupor, when he says that he doesn't have feet, he just has a head. I become totally in tune with how he feels! My party days are long behind me (groan), but I can related to that feeling.

It's at this point that I stop relating to him as a rotten child, but rather someone who's on a good trip. We go back to bed and he rolls around talking to himself some more and I doze off to sleep before he does.

The medication is to be administered for 10 days.

Wind, More

Tonight the wind was both helper and hindrance. I increased to the next level on my training program (the goal being to finish a 5k in August). While I ran east the wind was helper, but on the long trip back home the wind turned on me. Good news was that I exceeded my goal for the night, so I was pleased.

As I increase my running regimen, I find myself haunted by the summer of 1998 and all the intricacies of my life then - three lovers, only one of whom was healthy and made me happy, rocky roads with my partner, the death of my partner's grandmother and the best physical health of my life. That time was complicated and sad, although I didn't realize it until things fell apart.

I'm thrilled to find myself on the other side with my relationship surviving well and now one of the most satisfying aspects of my life. Now I find myself running with the content feeling that I run home to something whole, instead of running from things that were falling apart back then. If only I knew this were possible, I wouldn't have waited six years to start running again.