Family

Something shifted the last few days. The kids went from being happy to ignore me unless they were hungry to seeking me out to tell me things. Last night Kiki flopped herself on my bed and spent over an hour talking through college thoughts, growing up thoughts, future parenting thoughts, and what she is looking for in a future spouse thoughts. In the end I had to send her to bed because I could see that late night fatigue was starting to cause her to dwell on the negatives instead of the hopefuls. In Kiki’s case much of this was triggered by the overnight college orientation that she’ll be attending on Monday. It will be her first sampling of the year to come.

This morning Gleek came to me and told me every single detail about the dream she had. It was full of memory-fragments spun through a kaleidoscope and assembled into a sort-of narrative, which is much like most dreams. The details of her dream did not matter, my listening to it was really important. I was able to talk to her about dreams and help her pull out the relevant emotional content of this particular dream, which was that I was not in the dream and yet I was always there. She woke from the dream wanting to be with me.

At bedtime I lay down next to Patch and waited to see what he would talk to me about. He uses those quiet moments to unpack his brain before sleeping. Mostly it was about the current video game of choice. I listened, not because I care about the game, but because I care about the boy.

Link has not yet come to talk to me, but then he’s less likely to chat than the other kids. On the other hand, he’s more likely to seek me out to ask me things and request permission.

We’ve reached the midpoint of summer. The kids are shifting, ready for something more than just hanging around the house, but not yet ready to focus on school. I should probably schedule some family outings, times when we’ll get out of the house to go do things like swim. I’m starting to feel ready for these sorts of things. Though continuing to hide in work and electronic things also has its appeal. I do think it is time to venture forth more lest the summer get away from us completely.

I pinned the list of meals to our bulletin board. The matching ingredients were stocked in the fridge and the freezer. The list did not matter so much, because I knew that my two oldest children would likely ignore it once I was gone from the house, but requiring them to help me make the list accomplished two things. It forced them to think through the process of feeding themselves for four days while mom was not around to make food appear and it calmed that portion of my brain that worried about leaving them. They were old enough. Kiki was recently turned eighteen and thus a legal adult able to move out on her own. Link was fifteen, plenty capable to take care of himself under the supervision of his adult sister. The younger two children would be elsewhere, under the care of adults who were accustomed to managing kids. So I pinned the list and let go, wondering what my two oldest would discover about themselves and adulthood in my absence.

Kiki wrote me nightly emails with titles like “day one of solitary” in which she reported on how they were managing. By day three their sleep schedules had done the expected shift toward staying up very late and sleeping late. They also spent their time absorbed in separate electronic worlds, playing games and interacting very little. On the third day Kiki called me. “This is hard.” She said. I listened to the ways in which it was hard, none of which were actually dangerous or life threatening. I knew that all of my children were safe, but they were having age appropriate experiences with being away from parents. I found myself doing the opposite of the cliché and urging my kids to invite friends over while I was gone. Because I know my kids and I know their friends. There was greater risk in them feeling isolated and depressed than there was in teenage boys coming over to play video games for half a day. So Link’s friends came over and just having people and noise in the house was comforting to them both.

I returned home on Saturday evening. Both Gleek and Patch had returned home before me, so the house was re-populated even before I arrived. They were playing video games and my arrival was met with them glancing up and saying “Oh, hi Mom” then returning to the games. Kiki did put hers down long enough to give me a hug. I stood in the kitchen surveying the backs of their heads, feeling both glad that my absence had not been traumatic and a little under appreciated. It meant I’d done my job well. They were far more ready for their separate adventures than they’d anticipated.

I’ve reached the part of parenting where my job is not to hold tight and keep safe, but to slowly release. We still have at least eight years before they’re all launched, but the process has begun. And they are ready for it, because I can step out of their lives for a few days and they manage just fine.

“I just thought you needed to know.” My friend and neighbor said before giving me a hug and returning home. Yes. I needed to hear about Gleek’s panic attack at camp and the two times she struck out at other girls. I needed detailed information on all of the stresses which might have triggered the panic. I needed to know how it unfolded and how Gleek found calmness again. Because I am gathering data about this lurking thing in our lives, we need to understand the shape of it in order to find solutions, but just as we gave it full attention, the anxiety went underground. It hid and all seemed well. My neighbors information lets me know that hidden is not the same as gone. It reminds me that the path ahead may be thorny even though we’re currently passing through a sunny meadow.

Just as I needed my neighbor to tell me about the hard parts of Girl’s camp, I’ve also needed Gleek’s smiling reports of all the joyful things. I only get dribbles of information, bits and pieces of songs and stories as they are jostled loose during daily life. Gleek loved camp. The fearful nights, and one extra panicky night, do not loom over her experience. I am glad, just as I am glad that things are generally good for her right now. I try not to spend much time fretting over thorns that have not yet arrived.

However I am spending time thinking ahead to ways to make the trek easier. I can’t remove all the thorns from all the paths in the whole world, but I can make sure she begins the trip with a pack full of supplies and maps to safe respites. I began by putting the junior high summer library hours as a fixed point in our schedule once per week. Every Tuesday Gleek and I will go. She thinks it is just to get books to read. I know that each trip makes her more familiar with the school. She begins to associate the media center as a safe haven full of good things. So when things get chaotic or scary after school starts, she can visit her haven. I’m also doing everything in my power to foster a friendship between Gleek and the school librarian. I think every child should have a loving librarian in their life. So we enter the library. We greet the librarian by name. Gleek runs over to the Warriors books and sorts them into correct order. I wait while Gleek makes herself comfortable and meanders through selecting three books. Repeat week after week until a good association is formed. Haven acquired.

Before the beginning of school I will also walk Gleek to go and meet her school counselor, who is an amazing woman and will be an important ally for Gleek. Here child, before I release you into the thorny woods of middle school, have a haven and an ally. Hopefully Gleek will acquire more of both, places and people of her own choosing. This is what we will do while the anxiety is hiding. And perhaps it will not be so bad as my worst fears.