We had to make an early-morning drive to drop Daddy off at work because the van was being fixed. My newly-minted, just-turned-7, pj-clad daughter sat in the backseat of Daddy’s
car in her pink booster seat, munching on Munchkins from Dunkin’ Donuts while
she pondered life. She piped up, “No one likes me. Everyone
hates me.”
*sigh* I
hadn’t had any caffeine yet, and I had to break out my best Social Worker self
to deal with this mini crisis. Without caffeine. Why can’t kids have crises
when I’m fully caffeinated and running on full brain function?
Whenever my
kids say things like this, I feel like someone has punched me in the gut. My
number one skill, after all these years of parenting, is triage. I do triage in
so many forms, in so many situations, for so many kids, all day long, every
day. Assess, plan, and go. I assess every situation and -as fast as I can- try
to figure out what needs to be done to help. When a kiddo falls outside, I scan
knees, hands, elbows to check for bleeding, bumps and bruises, or a broken
bone. When a kiddo screams, I run to see if there are swear words being thrown,
or punches, or body parts being strewn across the room. When a kid says he
wants to stay after school for an activity, (that day, and he needs to know
RIGHT NOW, and he can’t remember to plan ahead and tell me about these things
in advance) I quickly think about our schedule to see if there’s any way we can
swing another pickup into the afternoon. It’s all about multi-tasking and
triage. Quickly assess any situation and figure out the next step to get to the
goal.
So when my
sweet little baby says out loud that she feels like no one likes her, I race to
remember the past 24 hours. Has anything happened with friends or brothers to
make her feel unloved, unappreciated, unwanted? Is this statement a hint of a
bigger, overall self-esteem problem, or is just a whimsical statement by a bored
little girl in the backseat? Does she want my conversation and attention, and
help, or does she just feel like venting?
I ask my
angel why she feels no one likes her. She goes on to explain things that have
happened that have hurt her feelings. She says she doesn’t have friends who
like her. She says people don’t want to play with her sometimes. She feels sad.
I reassure her that she is a good, kind person, with a true, honest heart. Yes,
sometimes everyone makes mistakes or hurts a friend’s feelings, but overall, I
am so proud of who my daughter is. She is compassionate and kind. Perfect? Who
is? But her spirit is so good.
I asked my
girl last week who she sat by at lunch at school that day. She said she sat by
the mean boy. I said if he’s mean to you, what can you do? Maybe sit by someone
else, or tell him in a respectful way not to talk to you with mean words…
My little
girl said, “Well, I could have moved. But I was already sitting when the boy
sat by me, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He wasn’t mean to me at
lunch, so it was ok.”
When I open
my front door every day and let my kids out into the world to spread their
little wings, it’s with a silent prayer on my lips that my children will do
their part to make the world a little softer, a little kinder, a little more
loving and lovely. I don’t know each happening in their days, each word
exchanged with other kids, whether they roll their eyes at teachers or say mean
things to others. But I hope that we have filled them so full of love at home
that it just comes tumbling out when they’re in the world, and that there is
very little room for hurtful mean things to find their way through that
overpowering love.
In the car,
talking with my little girl who was having “a moment,” I told her how so many
mama’s and daddies tell me that they love it when my girl plays with their
kids, because she is kind. She plays nicely and is patient and sweet. Of course
we all have our moments--angry moments, crabby, irritated. But overall, the
mama’s and daddies and teachers and coaches and therapists say that my girl is
someone they want their kids to be around. Which makes me so proud of my girl.
I pause
during my Reinforcement of Self Esteem Speech to make sure my girl has time to
talk more if she needs to. So that she has the space to let her feelings out
and feel heard. So that she knows she is important to me.
There is
silence in the back seat. Then I hear, “I wonder what color my spit is, because
I’m eating lots of colors of sprinkles so my spit is probably lots of colors
too.”
Really? This
is the response I get to a well-crafted argument about why my daughter rocks
the Universe? This is the thanks I get for having given her my best Psych
major, Master’s of Social Work advice and reassurance, all while un-caffeinated?
Really? “Spit” is what we’re thinking about now??
Kids.
Hilarious. I’ve realized lately how different Big Kid Parenthood is from what
you might envision when you have tiny babies snuggling on your shoulder. There
are so many times when I have to figure out how I’m going to handle a
situation, and depending on my response I can either make it a truly awesome,
teachable moment, or let the instance pass unnoticed and unremarkable, possibly
losing forever that one tiny chance to teach my kiddo something invaluable. In
these situations, I do triage. I figure out if I am brave enough to get out of
my own comfort zone and teach my kid, help my kid, confront life with my kid.
Sometimes I
REALLY have to get out of my own comfort zone. Like when we’re driving—ok wait
a second, side bar. All our family’s Important Life Talks happen in the car! No
joke! It’s the perfect place to talk with your kids because they don’t have to
look at you when you’re saying things that are embarrassing and uncomfortable. You
don’t have to look at them when THEY’RE saying things you can’t believe they’re
old enough to be thinking about. They can pretend to listen if they’re not, and
they can pretend not to listen even when they are-- which is what happens most
of the time. I think cars were invented just so parents and kids would have a
safe place to talk about awkward stuff in a neutral setting. Love it. Thank you
to whoever invented cars for giving my family a place to hash out the tough
stuff.
Here’s the
important thing about all things parent-y. If you don’t teach your kids your
beliefs, your views, your opinions, someone else will. And then you only have
yourself to blame when the world has led your kiddo down a path you would not
have chosen for them but were too uninvolved or disengaged or fearful to teach
them about. So when the opportunity arises to share with my kids my views and
opinions and outlook, I always take it. Always. Even if I don’t feel like it or
I’m too tired or under-caffeinated or I feel silly talking about it. I always
lunge at that opportunity and grab it with both hands.
Our family
is open about everything. If a kid has a question or wants to talk about
something, we talk about it. Nothing is off limits and nothing is ridiculed.
Like when my teenaged boy and I were driving
(see? thank you again, oh inventor or vehicles) recently and we got on the
topic of sex. I have explained to my boys what our beliefs are. I’ve talked
with them about responsibility and respect and doing the right thing. I’ve told
them as they are running out the door to a dance—“No sex, no drugs, no alcohol,
no no no…” because if I don’t tell them, they won’t know what I think and when
they’re presented with a tough situation, my Mama Voice won’t be in their head
somewhere and they won’t know how to navigate. Granted, my nagging Mama Voice
can’t keep all the bad things and bad choices from hurting my kids, but at
least I’ve done all I can to help them steer toward the good in life. That day
in the car, my boy talked about abortion. I told him how I feel about that
issue. I told him why.
Now he has my
Mama Voice in his heart, with the information I’ve passed to him. He can make
that a piece of who he is or he can choose a different opinion, but now he
knows what Mama thinks. Just like he knows that I think people should be able
to get married, no matter who they are marrying. And that the issue about who
should use which bathroom is ridiculous- we’ve all used port-a-potties for how
long and those are unisex bathrooms!
And my feelings about spirituality. And how I feel about pumpkin spice lattes.
And my best friend. And Reiki. And baked goods. And helping people in any way
you can any time you can.
This is just
part of the conversation of our family. We share these things with our kids so
they can be well-rounded, kind, beautiful humans as they move through the
world. So that they can hopefully leave the world better than they found it. Is
it always the perfect time to have these tough talks with my kids? Am I always
in the perfect mood for it? Do I always have the perfect words? Nope, nope, and
nope. But just like all the other Mama’s (and Daddies) out there, I do the best
I can. I take a deep breath and I take a leap of faith and I do the best I can
to teach my kids the best I know. With the goal always being to be kind, be
good, be loving, even in hard situations. Sometimes the talks are long and
intense, sometimes the talks are interrupted by thoughts of multi-colored spit.
(One of the many unusual joys of loving kids who have attention issues.)
Regardless, I’m jumping in to those opportunities like a diver jumping off an
Olympic diving board: with my lungs filled with a deep breath, my eyes wide
with anticipation of the free-fall feeling, and a mixture of terror and
excitement in my heart. Will I flop at this important parenting moment? Quite possibly. Will it be
perfect? Maybe. Will it be the best I can do at that moment, in that situation,
with what I have? Absolutely. All I can do is show up, grab the opportunity,
and take a leap into life with my kids.
