This is Anxiety

Tonight has been pure hell.  I know people don't understand.  And plenty of people think I've created a monster, or that the way I choose to handle things only exacerbates the situation, or worse yet, that I am being manipulated and controlled by some sort of 8-year-old sociopath.  I assure you, however, I am trying my damnedest to navigate this road as gracefully and sensitively as possible.

For those wondering what I'm talking about, my 8-year-old, Alex, has developed a nasty "case" of anxiety.  It started in the last 6 months or so and focuses itself primarily on weather but more generally on safety (feeling safe, being healthy, etc.).  Leaving the house suddenly makes him feel unsafe and uneasy, especially if there is any chance of wind, precipitation, or heck, a change in barometric pressure of any kind (I exaggerated there a smidge.)   I have seen this anxiousness surface in situations where people are sick or hurt (e.g. Daddy had surgery for a hernia a few weeks ago and Alex was uber concerned that Dad "was ok" and would "be ok" indefinitely).  Of course this increased nervousness also increases his need to be attached to me in true Velcro Boy fashion.  But the most frustrating part is that it manifests in the most unexpected places and times (e.g. on board a naval battleship for a Scout overnight that we've done twice before wherein Alex suddenly expressed a serious fear of small places and wasn't at ease unless he had a direct and well-memorized escape plan at all times).

In the car traveling on a rainy day.

Of course, I don't have all of the answers.  Heck, I don't think I have any of them, really.  I will fully admit I'm winging it every day.  But I am trying to help him the best way(s) I know how.  Afterall, I am the one living this nightmare along side him.  I'm the one who sees the pain in my precious 8-year-old's eyes when he insists, er, demands we stay home or GO home (immediately!).  The point is, I know my kid and I can tell the difference between a fake "I want something" cry and and a real truly scared gut-wrenching sob.  And I know people don't agree.  But I'd like to think that as his mother I can see through the crap and tell the real deal.  I am probably wrong.  But if I'm being totally honest, I would rather err on the side of caution and not risk damaging his emotional well being simply because I didn't "believe him".

I walk a very thin line.  Every. Single. Day.  I weigh the signs, the reactions, the underlying messages and the unspoken emotions.  I try to always think about what the true reason for his outbursts of anger and jerkiness (which seem to be his favorite way to express his anxiety) might be.  Never to assume his behavior is what it outwardly appears to be (for example, he's not REALLY mad at his brother for eating the last banana when the sky just darkened up and he may just be worried about the change in weather).  His behaviors are usually out of left field, or don't make sense in the context of the situation.    I know I'm not a professional and I have come to the realization that he needs one.  I'm working on that.

I just wish other people could see my point of view and try to understand my position.  I'm his Mom.  I'm supposed to fix this.  I'm supposed to make him feel safe and ease his fears.  But with this ugly monster called Anxiety I simply can not seem to do that.  At least not alone.

The revolving door of parenthood.

You know the scene...you're going through a revolving door at your local restaurant, shopping plaza or hotel lobby.  You hustle your littles into the all-too-tight space ahead of you and then squeeze in behind them, go a half turn through the door and then lead them out safely on the other side.   It's our job.  That's what we as Moms, Dads, PARENTS, do. 

The other day my boys, ages 6 and 8, and I were traveling through one of these doors when they rushed in ahead of me.  They filed into the section before me and I followed, one compartment behind.  Well, I got out on the other side and they did not...they kept going.  And going.  And going.  They were having the time of their lives just spinning around.  Of course I ushered them back through as soon as their fun became distruptive to others trying to get in, but until then, they carried on without me.  This has become a metaphor for my life with these boys lately. 

I understand that's how it works.  We guide them and steer them - Teach them, enourage them, support them.  Then they get independent and disappear into the revolving door only to come out on the other side unassisted.  With me standing on the outside watching them through the glass but unable to reach them.  I'm just not sure I am fully prepared for this new back seat "supervisory" role that I've inevitably been assigned. 

I love that my boys are growing up, don't get me wrong.  Besides, Nate has always been an old soul anyway...light years ahead of his age in maturity and self reliance.  I (half) joke all the time that Nate has never really needed me.  As a baby, he would crawl to his bedroom door when he was tired and sit outside it until I put him to bed. 

At swimming over the weekend I was chatting with a mom-friend of mine who is still very much in the throes of all things baby and toddler.  As she stepped out of the water with her infant in one hand and her toddler on her heels, she noted that I had been relieved of my "going in the water duties" now that the boys were older and could swim on their own.  I agreed, pointing out it was just one of many new breaks I'd finally earned as a result of their growing up.  I smile on the outside.  But inside I cried a little.

Sure, it's great to send them outside (with very little assistance needed beyond "Mom, where's my hat?" and "Help!  I can't get my boots on over my thick snowpants with my gloves already firmly installed on my hands" - ok, so they don't actually talk like that but you get the point...) but I never quite know where I stand.  When my needed assistance will be replaced with their new found confidence and skill.  Who can guess when my advice will be put out of business with wisdom of their own.

I don't know that I'll ever get used to this ever-changing "normal".  Just when I think I have it down, something changes. I will always beam with pride as new achievements are realized and skills are learned, of course.  But inside, I also realize that the end of my parenting job is one step closer.  That before I know it I may read my last goodnight story or hear my last "MOM!" holler for assistance in the bathroom.  And that makes me sad.

Happily in the Past

I was looking at a newsletter I get via email earlier tonight and realized the entire thing consisted of items, products, and stuff relevant to a stage of parenting I am officially PAST.

Everything in it - pacifiers, nursing pillows, diaper bags, baby carriers - was all stuff I can (happily!) say I'm over and no longer need!

I spend a lot of time being sad about moving out of those baby years.  I can spend hours missing the sweet smell, sounds, and "ease" of a snugly baby. So, I think it's helpful (and healthy!) to focus on the positive things about moving beyond the proverbial balls & chains of those early years.

Now, mind you, my boys are only 3 and 5 so we're not completely out of the woods yet, but there is still a lot of freedom to be seen as they get older.  Sure, I still grab a (pre-packed) bag with extra clothes and undies in it, just in case.  I still have occasion to pack that "emergency" snack and/or toy to occupy and distract a bored child.  But the light at the end of that tunnel is BRIGHT.  

I recently packed the boys up for an overnight at Grandma & Grandpa's so Dave and I could have adult time at the Fire Department banquet.  I used to have to pack two weeks worth of stuff for two boys to take a two day trip.  This time, I packed one small bag (with PJs, toothbrushes, and clothes for the next day) and a pile of blankets & Pillow Pets.  End. Of. Story.  Loved it!

Now I can throw the boys in the car (NOT literally!) and run to the store, visit a friend, grab dinner, or what have you, without a big "to do" (whatever that even means!).  

There's a breath of fresh air to be found in their independence (they WALK by themselves, mostly, buckle and unbuckle their own car seats, mostly, and can even help carry things!).  I have recently even begun (*gasp!) taking the stroller out of my trunk!!  I find I use it so infrequently these days.  (I KNOW!)

However, there is still that issue of what to do with all this stuff we've "outgrown"...I have a basement full of "useless" (to us) stuff - changing table, high chair, crib, boxes and boxes of clothes, bumbo, toys - I just can't bring myself to pass it on.

Hmmm...I guess I'm not far enough removed not to have an emotional attachment to this stuff.  So, perhaps I'm not as far past this stage as I thought?

Size DOES Matter

At the "ripe old age" of (nearly) 35 I'm beginning to realize something.

Size really DOES matter.

Unfortunately, there isn't anything I can do about my size.  At my age, I'm pretty sure I missed that "growth spurt" boat (about 20 years ago!!).

At 4' 10", however, my size is starting to get to me.

It wasn't bad when I was little.  I was generally the "cute" one in school.  People would take me under their wing, protect me, give me adorable little pet names.  Of course it had its moments.  The "short" jokes quickly got a little old.

How's the weather down there?

or

Sorry, didn't see you way down there!

However, with a few well-timed, quippy comebacks, I maneuvered my way through adolescence with my head held high (as high as I could hold it at 4'10", that is!).

But lately, my size (or rather my SHORTNESS) has taken an ugly turn.

As if I needed one more thing to shake my confidence and make me question my adequacy...my height has raised a real issue for me.

The boys and I were on the playground the other night when some "big" girls (I mean big as in bigger than my boys at 2 & 5...so maybe 7-9?) started roughing up Alex.  It was the equivalent of mean girl bullying to a cute little boy they wanted to manhandle.  Seemingly innocent, but unnecessary and inappropriate at the same time.  This one girl in particular was trying to direct Alex, pick him up, drag him up the stairs, down the slide, through the tunnels.  And he was having nothing to do with it.  He just wanted to run free and she was trying to treat him like her personal rag doll.  I was none too happy.  

At first I intervened by making my presence known.  When I was a kid, knowing an adult was watching me was enough to steer me clear of naughtiness.  I quickly realized, however, that my watchful glare was bearing no effect.  So I tried encouraging Alex to speak up for himself...telling him to say "Put me down" or "No" or "I don't want to go down the slide"...that wasn't working either as she paid little heed to what her little "dolly" was saying and continued to manhandle him.  That's when I had to get all Mama Bear on her.  I mean, I didn't say anything mean or yell, I simply took my son away from her and told her to go play elsewhere. 

But then it occurred to me.  I've been overlooked and underestimated by ADULTS my whole life.  But here I was as an adult, not being taken seriously by a CHILD.  This will not do.  My presence was not in the least bit intimidating to her.  And I'm not trying to say I want to scare children or torment them in any way.  I just want to be seen.  That night on the playground, I was in a position of having to protect my baby and I was not being seen as a warning, a threat, or even a deterrent.

As a teenage babysitter (even today) I am used to the kids I'm "charged" with saying "I'm bigger than you" and taking pride in the inch(es) they have on me.  This realization isn't new.  It is, however, newly disheartening.

I'm not delusional enough to assume this has EVERYTHING to do with my height, of course.  I know if I were a stronger person, more confident, less wishy-washy, that I would somehow command the respect my taller counterparts have.  80% of my dilemma is probably more realistically rooted in personality than in physical traits.  But it's not easy to see that right now from where I stand.  Now the question is, where do I go with this?  I suppose there's nowhere to go, but UP.  So I shall take this tidbit, contemplate it, learn from it, and thusly GROW.

Quiet Time

I learned a valuable lesson today.

Quiet time is not just for our kids.

I strive to keep my children on some semblance of a schedule.  I give them breakfast at the same time, snack time comes rather predictably a couple hours later, then lunch time, followed by nap/quiet time, etc.  They know it's coming.  That's not a surprise.  Quiet time doesn't suddenly sneak up on them.   Yet, they fight it every time.

I have come to realize today, after a moment, er, afternoon of not-so-stellar mothering, that I, too, greatly depend on quiet time.  In fact, it is instrumental to my soul.  Without quiet time, I melt down.  Just like my kids do.  Only uglier.  And usually louder.

If some days are "on" days and others are "off" days, today has certainly been a total power outage sort of day.  I'm ready to crawl into bed and start over again tomorrow.

Judgement and Criticism Free Zone

I don't know why but parenting seems to be riddled with judgement and criticism.  From the heated breast vs. bottle debate to co-sleeping vs. crying it out, everyone has an opinion.  And their opinion is usually the (only) right one.  It gets old.  I have low self esteem issues anyway so having to battle this constant critique from friends, family, and strangers alike is exhausting.  Don't get me wrong, I have amazing friends who support me no matter what and are often chosen and kept as my friends because they are honest and accept me for who I am - so they are not the ones I am referring to.  My family is generally supportive of me no matter what, too, but there are always those random comments (whether natural or contrived) that catch me off guard and make me wonder if I'm doing it all wrong.

Today, for me, was an epic sort of Mom-fail day.  (Which if you read this article, you'd know how unhip and overused those words are in 2011).  From the very start I was challenged by seemingly normal activities and stressed by the chaos, mess, and noise bouncing off the walls of our house.  I yelled more than I (or, anyone) would want to, lost my temper, even threw out my back picking up my 45 lb. 4-year-old who was resisting arrest time out.  I just didn't have my wits about me and seemed to fail at every turn.  What turned my day around was the love and support from my 4-year-old and an omniscient g-chat with an angel.  At one point in the day, with tears streaming down my face from the reality of my pathetic parenting, Nathaniel came up to me and gave me a hug.  "I love you, Mom", he said and then turned a sweet, tender moment, into a fun game with an exaggerated voice saying "Bear HUGS?!" and then diving in for a bear hug of colossal proportions.  I hate failing my boys but at times like this I am comforted knowing somehow, at least, they're pretty good kids.

Later that night, while sitting at dinner with Nate and Alex, Nate put his fork down, clasped his hands and said rather authoritatively, "Everyone!  I think we need to talk, shall we?"  I was struck with his proclamation so I asked him what he wanted to talk about and he turned it back to me...So I suggested we do a round of "what was your favorite part of the day".  Mine, of course, was our fun game of "Bear HUGS?!"  :)

Out of nowhere, I got a message from Heidi on g-chat.  I had sent her an email earlier but in one short sentence she was able to surmise that I was having a rough day (still can't quite figure that out).  She let me vent and bemoan my failings and had brilliant words of wisdom to share in return.  Seriously, her being there at that moment to say the perfect things she said was a gift from up above.  Talk about perfect timing!

The reason I had emailed Heidi in the first place was because I had stumbled upon a blog that spoke directly to my soul today.  Over at Making the Moments Count, she writes about parenting, depression, life, and even blogs weekly with a theme of support amongst parents for our differences in parenting.  I'm not saying my epic fail today should be considered "right for us" by any means, it still sucked as far as parenting goes, but I hereby declare this space a non-judgement zone. If ever I don't hold to that, I ask you to call me out on it.  This world needs a little more acceptance and no matter who you are, where you've been, what you've done, what you believe, or how you parent, I think you're awesome and I relish the opportunity to learn from you!  So, expect me to take part in MtMC's weekly meme (did I mention that I hate that word?!?) and feel free to share your own stories of how you do this!  Parenting is an extremely hard job and last I checked there still was no instruction manual available so if it weren't for you, my fellow parents, friends, and family, I'd never make it through my day to day challenges!  I'm blessed and honored to be amongst some fine company!  Thank you!

Now, I'm off to take Heidi's fantastic advice and in her words,  I will "Now turn EVERYONE, even hubby and me, and whoever else OFF, and try to get centered as you have a long To Do list that you would like to tackle this year and you need to get off on the right foot.  One day at a time."

Indeed, one day at a time - and I am anxious to get this one over and start fresh again tomorrow!