TangledWings

BOO!

Happy Halloween...

...and may you have all the Twix your heart desires.

Parenting 101

Tonight I went to a "Child Guidance Class" (a.k.a parenting class) because I'm always open to being a better parent and because sometimes I feel like a complete failure who needs all the help she can get.

The class really didn't have a lot to offer me.  Most of what was covered I'm already doing.  There wasn't really any new iinformation.  And other parts were all over the place.  More than once I thought "What the hell is she talking about?"  It was organized and yet not necessarily "fleshed out."  I left feeling really disappointed and frustrated.  It just wasn't what I was looking for.  And believe me a lot of the time I am looking for something.

But the class did give me something positive.  It forced me to try and figure out what it is I was looking for from the class--what did I want it to give me. 

I know how to be a parent.  I was a Family Studies major in college.  I've read plenty of books.  I may not always practice what I know or remember some of the tips and techniques but I have a pretty good foundation.  So I'm not really looking for your typical parenting class.  In fact if anything, tonight showed me that T and I are doing a pretty good job and we're definitely heading in the right direction.  But there is also something I'm struggling with that I was hoping to find in tonight's class and that is how to parent more effectively in light of who I am, in light of my personality.

Parenting has been really, really tough on me.  I love the B-Dog more than life itself.  I always wanted to be a mother, and not just a mother but the best mother possible.  I knew parenting would be hard and although I don't for a minute regret becoming a parent I have to admit that there are moments when it's harder than I ever imagined.  I think one of the reasons it's been so tough on me is because it totally clashes with my personality. 

I'm an introvert and a loner.  I require large amounts of alone time.  I don't like crowds or loud places because they use up my energy.  I could probably very easily be a hermit and I've had plenty of weekends when I've been just that.  Sometimes I don't answer my door and most of the time I don't answer my phone.  I love people.  I value people.  I'm kind, caring, and compassionate.  I'm a people person and yet I'm not a people person.  In other words people are important to me but I don't really like being around people.  If it's a lot of people it's just too much because of the busyness, the noise, and the energy.  If it's just one-on-one or a small group it's too much because I put too much pressure on myself to perform.

This ties into parenting because, well, when you're a parent being an introvert and a loner doesn't really work.  Hell, most of the time I can't even pee by myself.  And I feel guilty for needing such large amounts of time by myself.  I often feel like I'm on the outside looking in.  T and the B-Dog have a very close relationship (which I am very grateful for) and I'm on the outside looking in.  But I have created that.  It's a catch 22.  I feel left out and yet I pass up the opportunities to be more involved in order to have time alone.  I turn down going to the park in order to write or create or read or watch a movie by myself.

The most obvious solution is to learn to balance the two, to balance time alone with family time.  That's easier said than done.  It's fairly easy to sit down and map out a plan or to logically look at the situation to decide what is called for in the moment-time alone or family time.  But I can tell you right now that following the plan and doing what's logical usually don't win out because my need for solitude and isolation often feels and appears overwhelmingly urgent, important, and essential.

So I think what I was really looking for was help in figuring out how to parent in light of my introversion.  I need a "Parenting for Loners" course.  And I need help dealing with and/or accepting the feelings that come with parenting as a loner--the guilt I often feel for not being as involved as I'd like, the frustration I feel when I don't get the a lone time I need, the anxiety I feel when I can't withdraw and escape from the person who needs me the most, the panic that sometimes sets in when I start feeling like I could honestly run away and never come back, the way I can beat up on myself when I feel "selfish" for wanting to be by myself, and the sense of neglect I often carry around when I feel like an absentee mother.

That's what I was looking for tonight...and that's not what I got.

hmmm...not sure why I can't get a pic to load tonight...i'm giving up and going to bed...

Scared & Fearless

For his birthday T and I bought the B-Dog his first bike...with training wheels of course.  Once we lowered the seat a bit more for his little legs he was off faster than either T or I could keep up with.  It's a good source of exercise: put the kid on a bike and jog to keep up with him.  All was well until last weekend when the B-Dog took his first spill.  He was flying down the street only to round a corner a little too quickly and wind up on his face.  He limped around for a few days, a big bruise on his knee.  He recovered from the limping in a few days time...except for when the suggestion of a bike ride came up, then the limping recommenced.  He complained that he couldn't ride his bike because his knee just hurt too bad.

Tonight was his first time back on the bike.  I needed to pick up a few things from the grocery store and in order to get a little exercise and help out the environment I thought it would be a good idea to walk.  And it would have been a great idea if it hadn't taken us almost and hour to make it 5 blocks.  Although the fear of falling again didn't immobilize him it did certainly slow him down to a snails pace.  I could have crawled on my hands and knees the entire way and still have been faster than he was on his bike.  And anytime we approached an uneven place in the sidewalk or a gravely area he came to a complete stop.  Sometimes that's what falling can do to us.  We quickly go from zooming around corners to barely moving.

It didn't help that he kept repeating the same mantra over and over again: I'm so very, very scared.  We finally had to stop and talk about the message he was giving himself.  I explained that sometimes when we say something about ourselves again and again that's the way we start to feel.  By saying over and over that he was scared he was making himself feel scared.  Instead we were going to change the message.  He was going to say, I am very, very brave...because he was.  Getting back on the bike after being hurt is brave.  And while our speed didn't increase much at least the message he was giving himself changed.

About a block from the store the B-Dog said, "Mom, what does the word fearless mean?"  I told him it was similar to being brave.  It meant without fear.  He liked that word better and so his new mantra became I am very, very fearless.  We finally made it to the store, purchased the eggs and Teddy Grahams we needed, and begin our slow trek home, the whispers of I am very, very fearless heard just above the crunch of gravel and the squeak of training wheels.  About halfway home B said, "Mom, guess what I am now, very, very scared or very, very fearless?"  Wanting to encourage the positive self-talk I answered, "I think you're very, very fearless."  "Nope," he replied, "I'm both very, very scared and very, very fearless."  And isn't that just about the truth of life--the fear and the fearlessness co-existing. 

I think sometimes I give fear a bad rap.  I think I'm supposed to always live bravely, that I'm supposed to eradicate fear from my life.  But fear has its positive aspects.  It alerts us to when something is wrong.  Its the fear that keeps us careful and cautious so that we can live wisely while living bravely.  It can be fear that pushes us to rely on others when we need them the most...like when we're getting our courage up to ride our bike again and we want someone by our side...just in case.  Its fear that teaches us to look both ways before crossing the street and to watch for cars pulling out from the driveway.  In other words, what I'm trying to say is fear isn't always our enemy.  Fear is that something inside us that just wants to keep us safe, keep us from getting hurt. 

We've been home for over an hour.  The B-Dog is fast asleep...at least I hope so and I've watched Samantha Who?  I'm still thinking about our trip to the store and how it is good to be both very, very scared and very, very fearless.  Maybe instead of shaming myself for the fear I sometimes feel I need to look at my own fear from a different perspective, to see it not as something to push from my life but as something to honor, something to view as I would an overprotective friend, at times too limiting and constraining but at other times very right in its observations, something to couple with my own fearlessness.    

for you on your 5th birthday...

Dear you,

All weekend I have been tossing around some thoughts in my head, composing letters to you of things I'd like you to know about me, about you, about us, about the tangled relationship of parent and child.  I've lied awake at night writing big chunks of this letter; I just haven't actually pulled out paper and pen to get it down in physical form.  It's all been a mess of thoughts that I'm not certain I can adequately articulate.

When I was in Seattle, the longest I've ever been away from you, my friend Liz and I were sitting in her living room talking about life, about children and their parents, and the messiness of it all.  She said something that struck me with its truth, something that describes the parent/child relationship so well:  There is going to be shit.  But there is going to be so much love.  And that's just about the long and short of it.  I've thought about her words so many times since that evening.  There is going to be shit.  There's no way around that.  As much as I long to never hurt you, never make you feel anything less than the fabulous soul that you are, I'm going to screw up.  I'm going to make you doubt yourself.  I'm going to do things that hurt your feelings.  I'm going to make decisions and choices that I regret.  I'm going to make you feel things that break my heart to think about.  I'm going to make you cry.  I'm going to make you angry.  I'm going to yell, I'm going to totally miss it, I'm going to be self-absorbed, I'm going to have moments of complete selfishness.  It's going to happen.  And there may even be times that you doubt that you are loved and wanted and worthwhile because of something I've said or done.  I hate knowing that.

If I could line up all my parenting mistakes and failures they would circle the globe multiple times.  I always swear I'll learn from each one and maybe I do.  The only problem is rarely does the same situation arise again.  It's always new situations...with new opportunities to totally screw it up.  I'm not saying I'm a bad parent.  I'm saying I'm a human and I'm learning as I go along.  We do the best we can and unfortunately sometimes our best doesn't cut it.  There are moments when I make a parenting choice and immediately I know I totally fucked that one up.  The problem is I can't undo those things.  We can talk about it. I can say I'm sorry.  But I can't undo the mistake or the way my choice makes you feel or see yourself.  It's hard for adults to separate themselves from the actions of others much less children, but I hope I can help you learn, I hope I can help you truly know, that what I do, the way I react, has nothing to do with you.  I yell at you not because you're worthless but because I'm tired, or hungry, or angry at someone else...or I have a  really bad case of PMS.  It has absolutely nothing to do with you.  It's my shit and unfortunately some of it gets dumped on you.  That's what happens when people choose to relate to one another, especially if they live under the same roof.  And I try to explain that to you.  Every time I feel like I really screwed up I try to talk to you and explain what was happening with me that caused my reaction.  It may not take away the sting but I hope it helps you hold on a little better to the truth of your worth and value.

I've been reading this book about writing and the author must have had a pretty rough childhood because he occasionally brings up the fact that parents can really screw up their kids--parents can be so contradictory, making their children feel special one moment and then like a huge inconvenience the next.  It can be confusing and cause a lot of self-doubt.  Every time I read the author's parenting philosophies I cringe because although it sounds like he experienced childhood at it's worse there is a level of truth to what he says and I know that.  Children are impacted by their parents.  I don't know many, if any, people who don't have some kind of issues with their parents.  Usually all children have something...some issue with their parents that has followed them into adulthood.  And with you it will probably be no different.  One day you'll be writing about/talking about the things I did or said that you have issues with.  There's just no way around that and I guess I need to reconcile myself to that fact.  The ironic thing is the very things I'm trying so hard to prevent, the wounds I experienced that I am trying to keep you from feeling, won't be the things that effect you.  It will be totally different issues, issues I don't even realize exist because I'm so busy focusing on trying to save you from my issues.  Yes there will be shit.  Knowing this doesn't give me an excuse to be shitty but in a way it lifts a huge weight off my shoulders.  It allows me to relax into the humanness of parenting and release some of the guilt and regret I carry around with me every time I do make mistakes.

Years ago a friend of mine was giving a talk to a group of people about his parent's divorce and the impact it had on him--the pain, the wounds, the self-doubt.  Sitting beside me in the audience was his mother.  When the evening was over someone came up to me and told me how sorry they felt for this friend's mother, having to sit there and hear her son say such terrible things about her.  I knew his mother well enough to know that she was proud of her son for telling his truth, that the pain her divorce caused him was never something she wanted him to push away or lie about.  Yes some of her choices and actions played into his wounds.  She knew that.  And she would always have some regrets about the things she couldn't undo.  But refusing to hear his truth, refusing to allow him to voice his truth, wouldn't make him hurt any less.  Telling his truth, even if parts of it were hard for her to hear, was the thing she wanted most for him because she was wise enough to know that when you can own your truth you can begin to find healing.  That's what she wanted for him. 

I tell you that story because it's an image I try to hold on to as I navigate my own way through parenting.  The shit will happen.  When it happens I will hate it.  I will have regrets.  I will ache knowing I've wounded you.  But one of the things I want to do as a parent is allow you to own and voice your truth.  That's one of the hard lessons we try to learn as humans, how to separate ourselves, our feelings, from the truth of others.  We try to learn to allow others to tell their truth without wanting to silence them for our own sake or without cutting off the relationship because we are uncomfortable with their truth.  That's the gift I hope to be able to give you--the gift of allowing you to have your truth and voice your truth...even when it involves our tangled relationship.

I guess what I try to do everyday is make certain the love outweighs the shit.  Maybe the love will never cover the shit or make the shit okay but it helps us survive the shit.  It is the love that bandages some of the wounds caused by the shit.

One last thing.  I need you to know that you have changed my life more than any other human being.  You push me and challenge me more than anyone else.  You help me see both my limits and my capabilities more than any other relationship does.  With you I feel more powerless and inadequate than with anyone else.  But I also feel a bond with you that I don't have with any other human.  That's why you are the great love of my life...the one thing I will never recover from...one of the reasons I get up and do this all over again day after day, even on days when I really don't want to.  I hope when the shit happens...and it will...you will always remember that I love you more than anything.  Let knowing how much I love you help you survive the shit you will go through with me.

Mom       

F.I.V.E.

Guess who turned 5 today...

Poetry Thursday: for you...

From the window I watch the black silhouettes of the geese
circling the sky in their shattered V,
their calls to one another sharp and shrill.
They take long thoughtful laps around the lake
slowly descending with each narrowing circle.
Safe from the burning chill of evening
I watch them in wonder.
I watch them land weightlessly upon the still water,
water as smooth and shiny as a pirate's gold coin.
I watch their dark bodies settle into
the kerosene glow of the setting sun,
and every once in awhile,
when I glance out across the park
to where you're playing, your bright
orange jacket flashes across my line of vision,
zipping madly like a dizzy bee at play.
I spot you running joyously through the flock
of other children, all clothed in muted
shades of black, navy, and gray--
my lone bright cardinal darting through
a flock of dull gray geese.

Happiest

Dear You,

For the past several weeks I have been keeping a log of my happiest moment of the day.  I’ll stop before going to bed, think back over the day, remember how the various moments of my day made me feel, and then try to center on that one moment that just had a little extra something, that moment when I couldn’t stop smiling, that moment I felt most alive.  Do you know what I realized?  Nine times out of ten my happiest moment of the day in some way, shape, or form involves you.  Thank you for just being you.  I’m so glad you picked me to be your mama.

Gone Trick-or-Treating

Hope your Halloween has been filled with cute goblins, adorable ghouls, plenty of blue Power Rangers, and lots of chocolate of course.  Happy Haunting.

Dave Grohl Ought to Appreciate this Post

I confess...I'm a Foo Fighters fan.  It all began years ago when I saw Dave Grohl and Taylor Hawkins (both members of the Foo Fighters) induct Queen into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame.  Because Freddie Mercury is no longer living the two Foo Fighters members performed in his honor.  They performed Queen's Tie Your Mother Down and from that moment on I was sold.  It was passionate and angst-y and sweaty...all the things I love in a good rock 'n' roll song.  A few years later I saw them perform Times Like These at the Grammys and that further deepened my love.  And then there was the time Dave Grohl joined Bruce Springsteen, Steve Van Zant, and Elvis Costello in a performance of London Calling at the Grammys in honor of The Clash.  That sealed it for me and nothing anyone can say can talk me out of my love for them. 

Needless to say it isn't uncommon to hear a little Foo Fighters music playing either at home or in my office.  (side note: when we're at home I like my Foo Fighters mixed in with a little Oasis and Pearl Jam or Counting Crows depending on my mood.) Especially lately.  I recently purchased a copy of their cd Skin and Bones and I swear to you it may be the most fabulous cd ever.  Okay, maybe that's exaggerating it a bit but it is pretty damn good.  I think I've played it non-stop for three weeks.  I fully expect my co-worker to turn against me at any moment and threaten to ban the Foo Fighters from our office forever. (Foo Fighters plug: run to your nearest music store, or log onto Amazon.com, and purchase this cd...do it now...I promise you won't regret it...if you're having doubts watch this...or this.)  Earlier in the week I actually received an e-mail from someone who had read a comment I left on another blog about Skin and Bones and she purchased it and wanted to let me know she loved it.  YES!  Another Foo Fighters convert. 

I've been pushing the Foo Fighters on my co-workers, on T & the B-Dog, on anyone I can.  My brother's birthday is next month and guess what he'll be getting.  If you guessed a copy of Skin and Bones you are correct.  There are times I honest to God believe that because I've spent so much money on Johnny Depp (dvds, soundtracks, figurines, costumes, swords, books, even legos) I ought to be able to call him up at any time and say, "Hey Johnny, you know that island in the Caribbean you own.  Well I helped you purchase a sliver of that island so I'm coming to visit this weekend.  Just throw a sleeping bag out on the beach and I'll be fine."  Well it's getting to the point that I think I ought to be able to call up Dave Grohl any time and say, "Hey I hear you're going to be performing at such-and-such-location.  I'd like a couple tickets thank you very much."  I'm just trying to spread some Foo Fighters love (gotta love You Tube.)

But that's not really what this post is about.  That was just an introduction...a long one but still only an introduction.  This post is actually about a new game the B-Dog has invented that T and I get the pleasure of playing with him.  While sitting around the dinner table last week, and yes, there may have been some Foo Fighters playing in the background, the B-Dog decided we all needed to raise our hands as fast as we could and whoever was the fastest got to call someone a Foo Fighter (somehow that always managed to be him.)  Hands up.  "Mom's a Foo Fighter."  Hands down.  Hands up.  "Dad's a Foo Fighter." Hands down and so on and so forth.  Every once in awhile T or I one got to squeeze in a "Britt's a Foo Fighter."

Little did we know there are apparently several versions of this game.  According to the B-Dog other versions are as follows:

• Foo Fighters 2--can only be played while at the gas station
• Foo Fighters 3--has to be played while at the candy store
• Foo Fighters 4--requires props (like matchbox cars, etc.)
• Foo Fighters 5 (try saying that 10 times in a row as fast as you can...that's what I thought...not so easy is it)--requires you wear a costume
• Foo Fighters 11--can only be played while driving and only by the driver (I know...not very safe)
• Foo Fighters 13--requires multiple costumes and you rotate them
• Foo Fighters 41--can only be played while watching Transformers but seeing as how we don't have Transformers we can't play it
• Foo Fighters 81--must only be played at the grocery store
• Foo Fighters 89--requires you put both hands up in the air instead of just one
• and finally there is my personal favorite, Foo Fighters 99--which you can only play if you have ninety-nine and two thousand seven arms and since monsters are the only ones with ninety-nine and two thousand seven arms they're the only ones who can play it

See how much fun you can have when you live with a 4 year old.  Hey, it beats the heck out of having to chase him around the house with a plastic sword pretending to be either Captain Jack or Captain Barbosa, depending on which one he wants to be.

So let's say we make this post a little more interesting.  For the sake of spreading a little more Foo Fighters love I will personally purchase a copy of Skin and Bones (after I get paid on November 1st of course) to the 1st person that comments on this post and says, "I'd like to have a little Foo Fighters love lavished on me.  Send me a copy."  I will e-mail you for your address and once I get paid (god, that can not come soon enough) I will buy you a copy, along with my brother's, and send it to you.  I promise!  Then you too can be a Foo Fighters convert.  How can you not take me up on this?  I mean it's a free cd...and a damn good one at that.  First person that comments...

Dang...now I'm feeling guilty for not spreading the Johnny Depp love.  I'll have to think about that one and come up with something for next month.  Stay tuned.

This Preschool Thing Rocks!

One night last week we were all in the kitchen and T said to the B-Dog, "Tell mom what you told me in the car today."  The B-Dog came up to me all proud and confident and said, "R-e-d, red.  O-r-a-n-g-e, orange."  Who know my child could spell red and orange?  It was a very exciting moment with lots of cheering and hugging and jumping up and down.  In the life of a four-year-old these little things really are big things.

It's a weird feeling realizing your child knows something, like how to spell red and orange, and you didn't teach it to him, someone else did.  You come face to face with the fact that you can't be there for everything, that you can't do everything, that you have to let go and trust, that there's all these pieces of you child's life you won't be a part of, that they are their own person and they will only continue to build their individuality and differentiate from you.  It also makes you aware of all the influences surrounding your child and that is both exciting and scary.  It truly does take a village to raise a child and as a parent you feel grateful for those who enter your child's life and teach/show them amazing, loving, confidence building, intellect building things...and you worry about those who will enter your child's life and teach them about shame and prejudice and hate and fear, etc.  When your child is standing in front of you showing you how much they are growing and who they are becoming you feel like celebrating but you also feel the ache of loss.  There's a part of you that wants to hold on...and there's a part of you that knows you can't, that knows holding on wouldn't benefit either one of you.  It's a bit of a sobering moment to say the least.  But, while you can, you still crawl into their bed at night and hold them tightly because although you don't want to hold on you do want to savor as much as possible.

This week the B-Dog's school had their annual Open House.  We were able to see some of the things he's learning and he gave us a pretty extensive tour of his classroom.  We even joined the PTA.  Can you believe that?  How did that happen?  I remember when I was the child and my parents were attending PTA meetings.  Next week we'll have our first parent/teacher conference.  And I have to be honest, I'm a little nervous.  I guess there's this little nagging fear that while there we'll find out somethings either wrong with our parenting or wrong with our child.  I know that isn't very likely but still...  You have to keep in mind all of this is new to us.  Those first times are always a little never wracking. 

So now that I'm an official card carrying member of the PTA I guess that makes me a grown up, huh?