Month: August 2009

When I am stressed it helps me to write all the thoughts down. I pin all the things down with words and give them shape. Once I know what the shapes are, I can begin to see how all of it will fit.

Kiki:
Discussions about friends/school/emotions
Company at 6:15 am when she is up before anyone else
Nudging to remind her that homework should be on her schedule
Occasional check-ups on the status of her grades with accompanying consequences/assistance if they are below B level

Link:
Research and consultation to select a different medication for him
Consultation with his teachers at school to make sure everyone is working together for him
A twelfth birthday party
Extra hugs and snuggles
Quiet space where he can talk about the thoughts that are in his head
Praise when he steps up and takes responsibility

Gleek:
Extra effort and patience to steer her actions without scolding
Extra help to find constructive things to do when she is bored
Requiring her to slow down and have some quiet time when she needs it but doesn’t want it (probably daily after school)
Time set aside where the two of us can talk about the thoughts and feelings in her head so she can feel less emotionally tangled
A new lamp for her bed so she can turn it off by herself when reading time is over
Help finding ways to let her be in control of as many things as possible so she’ll be more willing to follow along in other areas

Patch:
10-15 minutes each bedtime where I just listen while he talks about whatever is in his head
Help managing his friendships so no feelings get hurt
Daily reading practice even if he doesn’t want it
Adjust meals so that he is more likely to enjoy eating dinner
Hugs and snuggles
A drink pouch in his backpack every day so that he has something to drink at lunch time when the other kids are having chocolate milk

All of the above:
More emphasis on personal hygiene, particularly teeth
A cleaner house so that we all have pleasant spaces in which to manage everything else

It looks like my major job this Fall is to use the six hours while they’re at school to clear the decks of everything else so that I am completely available when they come home. I think a lot of this will settle out once we hit our stride with the school year, but I need to be prepared for a long haul if necessary.

My children have turned into gaping pits of need. I feel like I have spent most of this week pouring time and energy into these pits with no evidence that they are filling up. Where these pits come from is not entirely a mystery. We’re just coming off of six months where I did not neglect them, but I had no time to spare for minor childhood traumas such as “all the crackers are broken.” My unresponsiveness on small-but-important-to-them issues has created an emotional deficit which needs to be addressed. Then there is the beginning of a new school year which fills them with stimulation, and excitement, and the stress of new expectations to meet. Kids always need extra support and reassurance while they are settling into a new school year. The third factor is the largest. Several of my kids have moved into developmental phases where they are growing fast and pushing forward. This new growth manifests as either pushing limits or increased anxiety. It forces me to shift my parenting techniques to manage the changes.

Unfortunately, knowing how the pits were dug does not provide me with the infinite amounts of time, energy, patience, and sympathy needed to fill them. All I can do is keep shoveling even though I’m ready to fall down from fatigue and hope for a landslide to come help me out. And to think that I spent some time this summer feeling guilty for not spending much creative/emotional energy on the kids.

I sat on the couch with my son’s head in my lap. A soft tear leaked from his eye to disappear into the fabric of my skirt. The fount of worries and concerns that have been gradually accumulating in the past months finally over flowed. I stroked his hair gently as we faced the fact that in one week he will irretrievably turn twelve years old. The twelfth birthday is a landmark, a rite of passage. He will no longer be part of the children’s programs at church, instead he will attend Young Men’s events. He will take up some congregational responsibilities as well. Link has every right to feel anxious about what is coming.

We talked about the specific things that worry him. I did not say “You’ll be fine.” because that phrase is singularly useless in reducing anxiety. It actually adds the anxious realization that not only does he have to face the worrisome thing, but that mom expects him to be fine with it. Instead we talked about worry in general. We talked about how it is possible to see clearly how things are going to work out, but to still be worried about it. We talked about how sometimes worry can keep us up at night. We talked through specifics about the responsibilities that he has coming so that he at least knows what to expect. We decided to make an appointment to talk to the man who will be his Young Men’s leader so that Link can talk these things through with him.

As I spoke with Link, I realized that something has shifted in our relationship. I have stopped sheltering him as much. I have stepped back from taking care of things for him and instead I am moving into a supportive role where he is making his own decisions. This was most evident in the portion of the conversation which discussed his medication. We talked through all the effects of the medication both good and bad. I told him how I’ve been considering taking him to a specialist who may be able to help us switch medications to a different one which will alleviate the bad while retaining the good. I do not know if Link will need medication his whole life, but if he does, then he needs to learn how to see the whole diagnostic picture so that he can make his own choices. I never want him to feel like medication is something imposed upon him.

Our conversation did not fix anything. Link is still worried. He is going to stay worried until we get past the birthday and he gets settled into his new things. But I think that talking through all the thoughts and emotions did help some. If nothing else, he knows that mom will listen to his worries.

I was feeling bad about the state of my house, so this morning I dressed in grubby clothes and started scrubbing bathrooms. I’d barely finished the first one when I was called to come help with an emergency move-out. The woman involved is in the process of getting divorced, she works, and she has five kids. She was completely overwhelmed. Judging from the state of the house she has been beyond overwhelmed for a significant period of time. Ten to twenty congregation members converged on her house. We bagged, boxed, carted, and threw away. It was complete chaos. Nothing was sorted neatly. It is going to take the family a very long time to find everything. Most of the stuff is headed for a storage unit. The family has a place to stay for the next two weeks while they find more permanent housing. I am sure that things were packed that the family is going to need. As I was sorting dirty laundry from potato chips, I pondered how fortunate I am and how I should be spending more of my energy reaching out to my neighbors. It is good that we all came to answer the crisis, but it would have been better if we’d all been helping a little all month long so that there need not be a crisis at all.

I have realized that the new found spaces in my schedule are not actually spaces. They are maneuvering room. This week they filled up completely with family/friend/social things. This is fine since those things have all been sorely neglected in recent months. The kids in particular need a lot more space for awhile. Every day they’ve been bursting with things to tell me. I need to make time to listen. They need extra attention while they settle in to the new school year. I still need to settle in too. I wonder if I’ll start feeling like I’ve achieved a life rhythm next week.

The ninth grade guidance counselor was amazing with Kiki. She listened to everything that Kiki had to say and several times complimented Kiki on expressing herself well. Then called in a kind and cheerful administrator so that we could move Kiki out of the classes that she was concerned about and into classes that Kiki will enjoy much more. We didn’t even have to rearrange any of Kiki’s other classes. Kiki walked out of there with a spring to her step and new confidence in her eyes. Now she and I both know that her counselor is an excellent ally.

For Link we’ve scheduled a round of testing just to see where he is currently. We’ll then take those tests and have an IEP meeting to discuss what to do for him for this year. I strongly feel that he needs to be out of resource. It is what he wants and I want to see how well he keeps up. I think he will be fine. This is a good year to test before Link heads off into the wilds of Junior High. I also met with Link’s doctor today. We’re keeping the medication status quo, but I think Link feels better about it because the doctor took time to really listen and talk directly to Link rather than just talking with me.

Gleek’s teacher spoke with me on the phone and it sounds like they are beginning to develop the structure and relationship that they need to get through the year together. I still need to keep tabs on this to make sure that both of them continue to feel good about the relationship. I may need to volunteer in the classroom at some point during the year so that I am more in touch with what is going on there.

I may be running out of “benefit of doubt” to extend to the new elementary principal. His extensive letter on exactly how parents are allowed to pick up and drop off kids has been followed up with a long letter describing the shiny new discipline policy which involves the use of a time out room (under a different name.) I agree in principle with most of the changes he is putting into place, but the implementation of the policies will determine whether this is a beneficial change or a dictatorial regime. My kids miss their old principal already. I sympathize, but I’m waiting to see how things shake out. I am also curious about how the teachers feel about these new policies. The teachers will be the ones doing the implementing.

We still have lots more adjusting to do. More than I expected this year. But I’m going to sleep better tonight.

I’m not sure where the line is between realization and epiphany. I suspect it is that epiphanies change one’s life while realizations change only the day, week, or month. If this is so, then today I had a realization. I ended yesterday tied in emotional worry-knots over the various challenges of my various children. On one level I knew that it is all going to be okay, but my brain would not stop fretting. A large part of the fret is that I knew I needed to have at least five different conversations with five different adults about the needs of my kids. All of these conversations need to take place either today or tomorrow. My brain was creating sample dialogs until the wee hours of the morning while simultaneously fretting that being over-tired would not help any of the conversations. Even this afternoon with two of the conversations begun (but not complete. grr.) I am still fretful. So I abandoned my self to the fret for a few minutes. For lack of a child to snuggle, I grabbed Patch’s giant stuffed dog and curled up for a think. This is when the realization hit. I am stressed because I am team building. These conversations are to determine whether these other adults will be allies, obstacles, or enemies to the needs of my children. I am embarking on a new school year and I don’t yet have my team in place. I don’t know how much burden is going to fall on me and how much I can rely on the teachers and/or administrators. This shift in perspective removes some of the stress. So far I’ve identified one potential ally and one potential obstacle. I’ve also identified an additional person with whom I need to converse. So I have four more conversations to go. Building alliances is exhausting.

Parenting challenges come in clumps. I’m not sure they actually arrive in clumps, but they definitely clump up while waiting for me to pay attention to them.

Link brought home a packet from his resource teacher. The packet tells me that it is time to run a bunch of new tests to see if Link still qualifies for special help. The thing is that Link does not want to be in resource any more. He hates to be pulled out of class because his 6th grade teacher is awesome. So now I have to decide whether to run the tests, or if it is time to let Link try flying solo. I’m inclined to let him give it a try, particularly if we make doing extra practice at home one of the conditions for being done with resource. The risk with this route is that my follow through with extra practice has been lacking in years past. I always have good intentions for helping him, but my plans frequently evaporate. On a related note, Link’s medicine is affecting him slightly differently this year. Or perhaps it isn’t, but he is noticing the effects more. I’m not certain there is a problem, but I’m paying attention to it.

Gleek spent 30 minutes curled up in my lap crying because she does not feel special. In her class there are several special needs kids. She sees the accommodations that are being made for them and wishes that her teacher would pay that much attention to her. It is hard to figure out how to comfort a beautiful, intelligent, strong, healthy girl who is crying because she is not blind, does not have a glass eye, is not deaf, and hasn’t even got any broken bones. My assurances that I would discuss things with her teacher were insufficient. She only cheered up a little when I promised to take her to the dentist to have her crooked teeth looked at. She is now hoping earnestly that she will get some type of retainer or mouth appliance since that will make her at least a little bit special. Her odds are fairly good. Some of her teeth are significantly crooked. I will then be faced with the challenge of paying for said appliance. (Which is why I had not pursued treatment sooner.)

Patch complains that first grade is long and has started crawling into bed with us nightly. At least we’ve solved the “chocolate milk at lunch giving him a rash” problem. I’ve started sending drinks in his back pack.

Kiki has discovered that she ended up with several teachers she does not care for. She is also discovering how uncomfortable it can be to be an attractive girl in a mostly-male wood shop class. She wants out of the class, but the deadline for class changes has already come and gone. I am making her write up a list of her concerns. I’ll go with her to present the list to the guidance counselor. It probably won’t get her schedule changed, but the counselor may have some suggestions to address the concerns. Even if the counselor dismisses the concerns, having the list will help Kiki and I form management plans. As for the rest of her schedule, I’m hoping that further experience with the teachers will help her understand better how to get along with them or get around them. The one thing she can’t do is slack off. We’ve entered the “colleges will look at this transcript” zone.

As per the title of this post, my brain is now tired. I think my heart is too.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1

I knew that the resumption of school would open up spaces in my schedule. I expected those spaces would be filled up by a drive to write. Using all free time for writing is considered normal and admirable in the online writer’s communities where I spend so much time. Finally I would have time to participate, to pound through chapters, to post word counts, to set stretch goals. But the kids started school and my writing brain did not unfold the way that I expected it to. I found myself hard pressed to even write blog entries.

I try to live my life by inspiration, so I took my puzzlement with me to the temple. This is the place in the world where I find communication clearest. I always find peace there and I often come away with answers I did not expect, but once recognized I know them to be true. Today I was told that I need to not fill up the spaces with writing. The spaces need to stay spaces. I need to be flexible enough to connect with friends and neighbors spontaneously. I need to have time to get bored and clean the house. I need time to go for a walk, or work in the garden, or visit a museum. These are all good things, and yet part of me feels lazy for leaving the space. I should be working harder, running faster. I want to run quickly so that I can arrive, so that my writing can help pay our bills, so that I can have recognition. But today’s message echoes what I have been feeling for weeks, that I need to find happiness today rather than looking for it in the future. I don’t have to run toward my goals at a pace that wears me out. I can walk at a pleasant, sustainable pace and I will still arrive. In fact I will arrive happier and more whole for not running myself ragged.

As I pondered the implications, I wondered if this “no need to hurry” message implied that my writing does not matter, that it is not important. I spent a few moments prepared to be upset about that, but the truth is that the things I write are not going to change the world on any large scale. They matter to me and they matter to some of the people who read them. That is all I can hope for really. Setting myself stringent daily word goals will not increase the likelihood that my words will make a difference. More important, stringent writing goals are wrong for me right now. There may come a time for them, but this is not that time. Our family needs a respite from having both parents driven by deadlines. Therein lies another source of guilt. Howard has to continue to push himself to get all the work done. I want to push with him, to work hard at something that will potentially lift some of the burden from his shoulders. But that is not my task. My task is to make everything else run smoothly so that his progress is unimpeded. It is hard to believe that my slow schedule is the best way I can help, but I think it is true. It is really hard to not push with him.

This is not my time to push. This is not my time to relax. This is my time to walk calmly and surely forward, to see the world around me, and to meet the needs as the arrive. Each day is a gift and I must consider the best use for it.

At 10:45 this morning Patch did not come home. Instead he stayed at school with all the bigger kids. I knew this, but I still found myself listening for him to come through the front door. And I missed him even while I was glad to not have kids under foot for the work that needed done. Picking up three kids from school simultaneously is chaotic and seems likely to remain so. They all burst into the car with heads full of things to tell me. Three young voices raise to ever higher volumes as they try to talk over each other. I try to institute some order by declaring whose turn it is to talk, but even then they all interrupt one another. It is chaotic, but I can greet it with joy because I’ve had a long quiet day of respite. I have the energy to shepherd them into the house, find them snacks, mediate the conflicts, and require chores. Even better, I enter the evening hours ready to face the challenge of dinner because I have already gotten enough work done. Finally I have time compartments large enough to contain the tasks which must go into them. There will be busy times ahead when the work slops over into the family space, but at the moment things are good.