Day: July 5, 2007

I was sitting in my front room typing on my computer and relishing the fact that my Dad finally got my laptop to consent to communicate with our wirless network, when my Mommy Radar pinged me. I became abruptly aware that I was not sure where Gleek was. I constantly track the locations of my children even when my conscious attention is occupied elsewhere. This tracking is accomplished primarily by corner-of-the-eye sightings and by ear. I knew that Kiki, Link, and Patches were all watching Scooby Doo, but Gleek was not there. I went looking and found her asleep in bed. Apparently getting up early for balloons and parades combined with staying up late for fireworks is enough to wear a little girl out. It wears out little boys too. Not too long later I found Patches asleep on the floor of the family room.

It has been a very busy couple of days. I already wrote about the Balloon Launch. The parade was not so awe inspiring, but it was good fun. I particularly liked getting to sit in a chair on the shady side of the street rather than on hard concrete in the sunshine. This luxury was provided by the good folks at Dragon’s Keep who blocked out a section of ground for the use of Dragon’s Keep customers. It worked out well for Dragon’s Keep too. Several of my kids and my parents all spent money there after the parade was over.

As soon as we entered the van to go home from the parade, Kiki began angling for us to attend the city fireworks display. We haven’t gone to it for about four years. We used to go every year. Howard would camp out early in the day and we’d haul carloads of picnic stuff. We did that for 10 years, but around year 8 we stopped enjoying it. It became a burden rather than a joy. All the preparations and hauling and most of all the horrendous traffic jam to get home killed our joy in the event. It took as an additional two years to realize that we didn’t want to do it anymore. So we haven’t gone for four years and Howard and I have been happier. But Kiki was longing for something a little more exciting than fireworks in the street. She’s been longing for it for a couple of years now. Then my Dad volunteered to buy tickets to attend the Stadium of Fire. This had never been an option for our family since seats cost $45-$125 apiece. Howard was exhausted from his all-nighter at the Keep and couldn’t go. I did not want Gleek or Patches to go since they would not be able to sit still. (I don’t even take those two to $7.50 movies let alone $45 events.) Howard was too tired to watch kids, which meant someone had to stay with Gleek and Patches. In the end it was my Dad and my two older kids. That turned out to be just right. A part of me regrets passing on the chance to sit in the stadium and see the big fireworks, but I don’t regret spending the time with Howard and my two younger kids. Maybe I can hit a big fireworks display for July 24th which is a Utah state holiday.

Link does not like loud noises. He never has. This is especially apparent around the Fourth of July which seems to be all about loud noises. As a baby Link would huddle in my lap and I’d cover his ears so that he wouldn’t cry. When he got a little older, he’d watch Daddy light fireworks out one of the windows. He wanted to see, but he didn’t want to hear. Last year we went to the local parade and Link spent much of the time with his hands over his ears because every vehicle honked, every band played, and a cannon boomed. On Tuesday we watched hot air balloons launch and Link was afraid. I realized that it was the sound that was affecting him more than the sights. I pondered this and I pondered our intention to attend the parade again. Then I dug around in the garage for Howard’s shooting headphones. These things are designed to protect ears from the sound of nearby firearms detonations.

As soon as we arrived at the parade I handed the headphones to Link. At first he was confused, but when I explained why I wanted him to wear the headphones, his eyes lit up with joy. He plunked them on his head and didn’t take them off except once when he checked to see how loud things were without them. He was able to sit on the front row and enjoy the entire parade instead of wanting to flee from the cacophanous noises. I also sent the headphones with him to the huge fireworks display. Again he was able to enjoy the show without being overwhelmed by the noise.

The very coolest thing about this event is that it demonstrates to me and to him, that he is not inherently fearful. He is having a physical reaction to loud noises and we’ve been interpreting that reaction as fear. He isn’t afraid at all. That knowledge gives us tremendous power. As he gets older he’ll be able to identify the reactions and label them as something besides fear. He’ll be able to take actions to correct the difficulty without feeling helpless or fearful. For today, I’m glad that a set of red headphones allowed him to enjoy the Independance Day activities.

There was a huge chaotic bustle trying to get Kiki and Link out the door. They were being taken to The Stadium of Fire by my Dad. After the chaos of shoes and jackets and directions, they finally piled into my van and drove off. I turned from the window and asked Howard if it was silly of me to be anxious. He said it wasn’t, but I still felt silly. Logically I knew that they would get there fine, find parking, have a great time, and come home safely despite horrendous traffic. But I worried. I worried about each of those steps. I worried that Link would be frightened by something and I wouldn’t be there to talk him through it. I worried about even more unlikely things. But the potential good from the experience far outweighed the unpleasantness of my anxiety.

I sat in the kitchen and sorted through my anxious thoughts. I addressed them individually with logic and stowed them away. Under all the layers it came down to the fact that sending my children off to a major public event with my father isn’t something I’ve ever done before. The very newness of the event made it outside my comfort zone. It is hard to let go and let the kids fly, even when they’re ready. The anxiety sort took me about 20 minutes. Then with all the anxious thoughts tucked safely away, I proceeded to have fun lighting off small fireworks with Howard, Gleek, Patches, my mother, and some neighbors. We had a good time. Kiki, Link, and my dad had a good time. All was well and none of my worries came to pass.

It seems like I have to go through this kind of process frequently. I come from a long line of worriers. They seem to have bequeathed to me a voice which mutters darkly about all the worst possible scenarios. That mutter can be nerve wracking. The only solution I’ve found is to yank the voice out into the light and to require it to speak to me clearly. The articulated worries often become obviously ridiculous. Then I can dismiss them. If I can’t dismiss the worry outright, I can still create an action plan based on the possibility. Then I file the worry and action plan where they’ll be ready if I need them, but where they don’t have to clutter my conscious mind.

My brain is as noisy and chaotic as my house and in as much need of decluttering.