“What I’d like to know is how old does a person have to be“One of you grab the iPad and look up stele. Check out the images.”
“Can we read another chapter? Please?”
“You’ve gotta get on your list if you wanna have time to hang with your BFF. Same for you, Will, if you want to make a tee time.”
“Can drawing a stele be on my list today?”
“After worksheets are done, you can draw.” Continue reading →
I see how you wince when I come running out of my bedroom with my braids flying, wearing socks that don’t match. I’m not being lazy, you know, I like my socks this way.
I notice the way you won’t let me talk when others are around. I know you are afraid that I could say something that will make you look bad.
Do you think I don’t see you roll your eyes when I show you my drawings? There are lots of ways to draw trees, you know. Your way isn’t the only way to draw a tree.
Do you think that I don’t notice the difference between how you treat me and the way you treat an adult when they walk in the room? How come you are all nice to the grown up and you are impatient with me?
“Mom, how old do I have to be again before I don’t have to visit dad anymore? I have already made my decision that I want to live with you.”
“You do live with me, honey.”
“I know, but I mean all the time. Every spring break and winter holiday and summer vacation.”
“But then you won’t see your dad.”
“Yes, but we have the memories…”
It doesn’t matter how much I reinforce that it is important to have a relationship with his dad. Nor does it matter that he doesn’t complain too much out loud. These conversations reinforce what I already know.
He is struggling inside.
Oh, how I know about that!
I know what it’s like when it’s all confused and churning inside, but on the outside it doesn’t appear that anything is wrong. To think that I have to wait a couple more years before he has a voice for himself makes my insides knotty.
I wonder to myself, why wait? But I know the system. I know it has to come at a time when it is right and unfortunately, something has to happen on the outside for them to listen. You can’t use history because they believe it will be different this time and as long as the stage lights are on, it may be.
But inside it won’t be.
He shut off the blender and yelled from the kitchen, “Mom, do you think it’d work to put some of those leftover brownie crumbs in my milkshake?”
“Sure. Try it. It’d be like a Blizzard.”
The blender starts whirring.
I look at Jenny and say, “Honey, I know that when we first talked about emailing your dad, we agreed that it wouldn’t make a difference. But it’s been a week now, and I know it’s still bugging you. Have you changed your mind? Do you want me to let him know how you are feeling?”
She looked up from the sewing machine and pushed the shimmery purply-blue fabric to the side to keep from sewing the end of the tail closed. “I don’t think I wanna make it so I can walk in it. Mermaids don’t walk anyway.” Continue reading →
Last night, no amount of bathroom humor would tease her out of her funk. She plotted a daughter’s revenge – cryptic drawings on paper that would then be tossed in the wood stove.
I asked if she wanted to have a slumber party in my bed. “I’ll tickle your back. You can tell me anything or nothing at all.”
She brushed her teeth. I braided her hair. She pushed the cat aside and crawled in my bed and said, “I’m sick of all of this.”
___________
Today she discovered how to make different sizes of paper frogs. She colored them brightly and called them Baby and Mommy and one of them was even Dad. Right now she’s beating her brother at a dice game, and when a favorite song comes on Pandora, she dances by me twirling and whirling and smiling and not thinking about anything but good stuff.
That is the resiliency of kids.
That is the roller coaster of life.
I was stirring the fettuccine as the door closed behind him. I looked over and noticed she didn’t look up. She didn’t speak. She kept her head down as she focused on her project.
Dinner was almost ready to hit the table. I turned to Will and said, “Buddy, dinner is close, but I’ve gotta talk to Jenny first.”
So what if the pasta was going to be mushy.
I pulled my stool next to Jenny and quietly asked her to look at me. When she did I said, “Honey, I want you to know that I remember how that feels. I know what it’s like to be in a room with my dad, have him talk to my brother, and leave before saying a word to me. I know how that hurts, but I don’t want to project my feelings on to you.”
“What does project mean?” Continue reading →
How are you with it not being all about you? When you walk into a room, are you good with blending in, or must you stand out? Do you get uncomfortable if a conversation doesn’t center on your job or your car or your haircut?
Are you quick to anger if your plans are derailed?
Do you insist on controlling everything, including the people in your life?
How adaptable are you to not being able to watch your favorite show at the scheduled time, every week, eating the same food in the same spot on the couch? Continue reading →
How do we forgive our fathers, maybe in a dream?
Do we forgive our fathers for leaving us too often, or forever, when we were little?
Maybe for scaring us with unexpected rage, or making us nervous, because there never seemed to be any rage there at all.
Do we forgive our fathers for marrying, or not marrying our mothers, for divorcing, or not divorcing our mothers?
And shall we forgive them for their excesses of warmth or coldness?
Shall we forgive them for pushing or leaning, for shutting doors, for speaking through walls, or never speaking, or never being silent?
Do we forgive our fathers in our age or in theirs? Or in their deaths, saying it to them, or not saying it?
If we forgive our fathers what is left?
– Thomas Builds-the-Fire
I’d swear my body was in the chair next to the fire. I could see the cat curled under the wood stove. Will was wearing a head lamp, while sitting in the rocking chair. Jen was camped in her favorite corner. They were both quietly reading.
I was reading a myth from Women Who Run With the Wolves, and I lost track of time and place. I was completely immersed in the story, focused on the words on the page. I finished a chapter, looked up from the book and glanced around to see what I had missed.
They didn’t notice. Apparently, it’s easier for kids to get lost in books. I’d forgotten what that was like.
I didn’t think about having to feed the wood stove or break up a fight between kids. The television wasn’t blaring, the dishes were done. There was no other place to take my mind to.
It was delicious. Continue reading →
The thing is, most of the time I know when to stay away.
When she says, “Ewwww! Mom, remember that experiment where we made the smoothie for Twilite? You know the blueberries, grass and banana drink? It’s still in the fridge! Come smell it!”
Yeah.
No.
I know to stay away. Continue reading →
In Survivor Support, I will call your attention to a new commenter who reaches out to us for encouragement or guidance or a compassionate ear.
We have created a most healthy group of wise individuals who send positive ripples out whenever needed.
It’s time to send more ripples.
Survivors and Thrivers, please see Kristin’s comment on this post.
Thanks,
Jesse
Does he monopolize the conversation? Does he fail to ask of my life?
Does he care more about his looks than I care about mine? Do I get to be the pretty one in this relationship?
Does he treat Jen and Will like they are a nuisance?
Does he have friends? Does he get along with his family? How does he talk about his kids? How does he treat a waitress or the clerk at the grocery?
Does he act entitled? Does he lack empathy? Continue reading →
“I can’t believe we haven’t really talked since before we were both married.”
“… and divorced.”
“Yeah. That, too. So how are you doing with it all… the being divorced?”
“Well, I’m sleeping. I’m eating. My stomach doesn’t hurt all the time. I’m not afraid to get out of bed in the morning. How are you feeling?”
“Same for me. I’m not waking in the middle of the night with panic attacks. For the first time since… oh…. probably when I was newly married, I look forward to things.” Continue reading →
Take:
Mix together without criticism, judgment, hovering or micro-managing on the part of adults.
Judiciously add laughter, warm-hearted teasing, big smiles and ice cubes for fingers that get in a tangle with the glue gun.
Include dollops of encouragement and one chunk of unscheduled time.
Result: A kid who finds positive energy and self-confidence when expressing herself through her own creativity. (She’ll make happy memories with her uncle, too.)
