Posted on in Friendship, Parenting

Changing Seasons

Seasons. We experience them at varying frequencies as parents. We have to adapt and modify our approaches. This season for me, has been one where I have had to take a backseat while I navigate motherhood and figuring out where else I am called to serve. I have faced uncertainty in sharing my voice, trying to determine and ensure I am doing so for a greater purpose. In more recent times, I have had some truly soul bearing conversations lately, particularly with other mamas with the same consensus… we are figuring it out, and we are exhausted. First, I have to acknowledge what a privilege it is to have community that moms/parents are more openly sharing their trials and tribulations vs. only the highlight reels. If you’re a parent that may not have a physical “village,” this emotional support is even more critical. Second, even with this more open and raw perspective, it doesn’t change the sometimes physical and emotional weight that (primary) parents are facing. This is not a dig at the parents who may be the secondary support; I am so appreciative for the role my husband has outside of our home while still coming in and giving his 100% where and when he can. Instead, it’s recognizing that for many parents whose children have left behind the baby and toddler phase, we’ve traded in our snuggly babies for larger problems that still require hands on deck. It’s become a juggling game of not just managing our homes, but managing changing and often conflicting schedules. It’s a game of children being in the in-between of wanting independence and being capable of doing more, but still needing us even in the daily, mundane tasks. My kids are completely capable kids, and yet each morning, I still find myself having to remind them of basic tasks they have to complete and physically needing to step in with others. It has become a new kind of exhaustion as I take on more tasks in my own life, transitioning from having babies/toddlers, while still managing these little people. 

I know this is a phase. I know it goes quickly. I know I will undoubtedly miss it, but it doesn’t take away from us parents feeling downright tired and a little cranky in the midst of it. If you’re in this season of transition, I see you. In fact, whatever season you’re in, you’re in good company. We are each trying to embrace the magic while we fight the anxieties and snapping at those around us. We are each fighting becoming the memes and gifs shared on social media of moms losing their sh*t. We’re not alone in that. Maybe that can provide comfort. Maybe that is where we meet one another, removing the judgment or unsolicited advice, but merely knowing there is someone out there, facing the same mountain and hoping to climb it with someone else. 

Posted on in Friendship, Marriage/Relationships, Parenting

Attitude of Gratitude

How do we find it when we don’t feel particularly grateful?

We’re in a season of gratitude. This time of year is often referred to as the best time of the year… a time where we are meant to reflect on the incredible blessings we have and attempt to share that goodness with others. It is a time for forgiveness and increased love. Sometimes, however, no matter how hard we try, it can feel like we just cannot find that feeling. You can be the most positive person in the world, and yet some days you just can’t seem to find the silver lining. 

This is where flexing our gratitude muscle comes in. I can speak from experience as we entered Thanksgiving and holiday time, that it is often my favorite time of the year. With two sick kids and a husband working nonstop, and what felt like mounting obligations pulling me in many different directions, however, I felt the joyous feeling I often carry, fading away. In fact, leading into Thanksgiving, it felt like a genuine chore to remind myself of how fortunate I am; I actively recounted my blessings each day and tried to remind myself of the good even though I felt like my world was pure chaos. I felt overtired, overstimulated and caffeinated in an attempt to combat that, over-committed to too many things trying to create community and positive members, instead leaving me feeling more depleted and alone than ever. But… that conscious effort to “flex my gratitude muscle” continued to remind me to keep going. 

I am not saying times will not be difficult. I am not saying we don’t all have days where it is easier to wallow in our own self-pity. I am not saying we aren’t entitled to freak out moments we then are ashamed of. I am saying, however, that in those times, I think that actively flexing our gratitude is a practice I find most helpful. In our house, we did this for the month of November through a “gratitude Turkey.” My oldest drew us a turkey, and each day, we took time in the morning to write out something we were thankful for that day, and then stick it to the turkey as its feathers. Each morning, I watched my kids think about something us they felt grateful for that day… some mornings it was the earth, our house, a cozy bed, various family members; other days were more materialistic items like a specific toy or markers. Each day, however, setting this time and watching them dig deep forced me to take a moment and do the same. It is actually a practice I used to do written out each day, but as the recent months got busier, I started to neglect. I didn’t realize the significance it had until I felt the chaos of the last month try to rob me of my gratitude and joy. 

It’s something to remember as we continue into this holiday season. There will undoubtedly be days that you’re running late and the kids just cannot seem to get on track, or you have to reprimand them more times than not and it is draining. There will be days where someone cuts you off on the highway or takes your parking spot, and if you’re like me, you may use some choice words you’ll have to then apologize to your kids for. There will be those days that just feel forever long where you feel utterly depleted. It’s on these days in particular that it is especially  important to remember that you can still make that choice to flex that gratitude muscle. It may feel forced. It may feel like an added chore you do as you cry in your room counting your child’s breaths/minute, but I can honestly say that as an active practice, it DOES make a difference. So flex it. Make the time. Just like we exercise our bodies and minds for ultimate health and wellness, putting gratitude into an active practice in our daily lives can increase our overall well-being. 

Posted on in Parenting

As We Heal..

Mourning and grief are tricky.  I saw a photo shortly after we had lost our daughter, Faith, of a sculpture someone had created, called Melancholy. The photo showed a large person slumped over, with a giant, gaping hole in the center. It spoke to me immediately. I naturally did some follow-up research, and this was completely intended by the creator to depict the way grief leaves us with a massive void that we most likely never “get over,” but instead learn to grow around. It became the way I chose to approach my healing, and as time passes and I go through seasons of ups and downs, it becomes all the more clear of just how appropriate this sculpture is, particularly when as a parent who has experienced loss and feeling like a piece of your heart and insides have gone to heaven along with your baby. 

After nearly four and a half years, I can say that I know how far I have come in coping with the loss of our first daughter. She had a rare condition called Turner Syndrome that caused her to go into heart failure in Utero. Trust me, I went down the research rabbit hole looking for answers after we found out, and to see the progress I have made, I know each day, I do grow around my grief and I am proud of how it has shaped me. Since healing is most certainly not linear, however, there are definitely times that the giant hole feels like it is on fire and threatening to grow even larger, or as if it can even swallow you up and all the growing around it will not matter. It makes even the most wonderful moments difficult to enjoy because the grief just feels so strong. You see, my perfect daughter, (because yes, in my mind she will forever be perfect), would be turning four years old soon. Add in the fact that my beautiful, feisty, earthly daughter has been giving me a very hard time lately, three being significantly more difficult with her than it ever was with her brother, and it makes the grief and the emotions feel magnified.

Now, I know how truly blessed by God I am to have two remarkable children on this earth, but I would be lying if I said that there are not seasons as a parent to both children on earth and in heaven, that I do not feel the pain and anger all over again. My daughter has genuinely been such a handful the last few weeks. I would be lying if I said there haven’t been moments that I hid in the bathroom and cried as I mourn the loss of what would have been, and cope with the frustration of my spirited little girl. It brings a new sense of guilt and shame as I struggle to grapple with the feelings of sadness and frustration and recognizing that all of the feelings are acceptable. I adore my daughter. She challenges me in ways I never knew were possible. BUT, it is also okay for me to miss and mourn my first baby girl. It is okay for me to wonder what she would have been like at three, and now preparing to be four. In my mind, she’d be just as easy as her brother, but with the fierce spirit of her baby sister, and all the struggles I am currently facing with my youngest would not exist. I know this isn’t logical at all, but it becomes a way of processing when the grief starts to blaze too intensely. When I actually put words to it and let the shame of it go, it becomes a little easier to carry. My therapist reminds me of how proud of myself I should be. Today, that is what I will hold on to. If you are a parent who has lost and you have felt these emotions, you are not alone. It does not make you a worse parent to your children on earth; in fact, I think it only makes us stronger as we learn to grow in different ways around that grief we hold so well.

Posted on in Marriage/Relationships, Parenting

ALL JuMbLeD UP

After a phenomenal/exhausting/core memory building trip to Disney with family, coming back to one of the worst week’s we’ve had in a while, was beyond difficult. It is not that anything specific went wrong, but more so that despite all my best efforts to jump back into our routine and not miss a beat, the kids and I just could not find our groove. Every morning felt chaotic, even though we have our morning schedule down; in fact, just about every day, we bordered on missing my oldest kid’s doors being open, and a handful of the mornings including me near screaming and racing out the car, a ball of stress. This then obviously resulted in a quick cool-down as we walked up to the school doors, at that point, me now frazzled that our stressful morning would impact his day and behavior in school. I wish I could say this was isolated to just the morning routine, but our afternoons were just about the same. My youngest fought me on naps daily, finally falling asleep moments before I needed to leave to get my son, and it just set the afternoon up for disaster. Add in the weather change from being in constant sunshine and mild-warm weather to a week of rain and no after-school playground time, and we were just struggle city. 

I spent most of the week feeling utterly depleted. People had actually warned me that after a week of Disney, I myself would need a vacation, but I didn’t really understand it. For me, it really struck me in the realization that it wasn’t so much the physical catching up on laundry, etc. (we were the crazy ones who only packed carry-ons and did laundry on our trip so we didn’t have any coming home), or even getting back into packing lunches and school work, but more the groove of coming back to not being surrounded by family and extra eyes and hands each day. In fact, for me, while the vacation itself may have not been one of relaxation, mentally, for me, it was a huge break having my husband around for eight entire days, as well as a set of grandparents, multiple aunts and uncles, and cousins to help occupy the kids. The fact that I knew I could let my guard down a little bit and let others in to help with the kids (and that the kids thoroughly enjoyed their time with family) provided a much needed vacation I had not realized I needed. Starting each morning and ending each day with my husband in the same place as the rest of us truly allowed me to rest in a sense, and the jump back into my normal day-to-day, as much as I am a pro at it and love the life I have, really did trip me up. I honestly started to feel like a failure thatI just couldn’t seem to get us back on track the way I envisioned, and the kids were struggling in their own ways. Naturally, this just made things worse as I tried to work the kids through without figuring out where I was at, leading to way more than ever necessary arguments and raised voices on my part. If you’ve ever read “The Color Monster,” with your kid(s) by Anna Llenas (which if you have not, I highly recommend it), I felt just like the color monster– completely mixed up.

Finally, it struck me. You see, for me, prayer, and truly leaning into God is a major priority for me. While I was still praying as I always do, I was letting myself become so consumed with outside worries, it was almost making me ill. While it took me a full week of my own stubbornness to recognize this, the moment I did, I felt like a weight was lifted. I could see exactly why I was struggling and not only walk through my own mess, but more easily help navigate my kids’ messes. This is your reminder that your self-care matters. Your beliefs that sustain you, matter. This may look different for each of us, but when you feel totally off, taking that added time to sort through and ground yourself makes all the difference. Your “to-do lists” will always be there; there will always be more laundry to do or something else to dust, (and honestly, it’s a gift in my eyes because it signifies we are alive), so take the fifteen minutes in the tub, or the 20 minutes of meditation, or the 10 minutes of prayer – whatever it looks like for you, USE it. Use that small window to ground yourself because even with the best plans and most organized routines, if you are all jumbled up, none of it will run smoothly.

Posted on in Parenting

Growing around our Grief

We are the lucky ones. I remind myself of this whenever I feel upset thinking of our losses, the beautiful little souls we will not meet on this earth. We are the lucky ones. We have two, perfectly imperfect, happy, healthy, little rainbows babies that fill our hearts with so much joy (and chaos, and stress, just as they should). We are the lucky ones. While I am well aware of this, and it has taken me quite a long time to come to terms with this next realization, we are still entitled to feel and to mourn our losses. The agony we, as parents, have felt, especially in saying goodbye to our daughter, Faith, does not take away from the immense love and gratitude we feel for our two angel babies here on earth. I think there is a misconception sometimes that if you have children after your losses, it somehow erases those losses, or perhaps as parents we just feel our own guilt in feeling the weight of the loss(es) when we know what a gift we have received with a new baby/babies.

As this year’s Pregnancy, Infant, and Child Loss Awareness Week approaches, and I am filled with love as I type away while my two, beautiful miracles giggle two rooms over (as they pretend to be napping in preparation for a late afternoon play date) I am also filled with a heaviness as a remember my babies’ lives cut before they could experience this earth. I especially think of our daughter, Faith, whom I carried for 20 weeks, and I recall how much I struggled after our daughter was born to balance the relief and gratitude in a healthy baby, but the pain in the loss I was still mourning. Specifically within that first month post-partum, adjusting to a new norm, a newborn schedule again (I hadn’t had one in 3 years), and regulating hormones, I found myself torn, my heart overjoyed with love and contentment of this remarkable little girl in front of me, but also coupled with sadness, wondering why it is sometimes that we receive certain babies, but not others. These were questions that then filled my heart with guilt rather than simply accepting that this is my reality, and that my heart definitely has enough love to grieve and give, and that if I allow myself to grieve, it will actually help me to better give to my children and loved ones on earth. This next year will mark five years since we lost our daughter, and it is still a ball of feelings that may often hit me without warning. Sometimes, in the highest points of joy for one of my miracle children, I feel an equal pang of guilt or sadness that she will not experience these moments. I could lie and say that it “gets easier over time,” but I think that we simply grow stronger, around our grief, allowing it to make us softer. That is at least, how I hope to use my grief, so that others feel less alone.

This is your reminder to be easy with yourselves. This entire month of October is dedicated to raising awareness regarding pregnancy, infant, and child loss, and opening up a dialogue so that people feel less alone, and oftentimes, less ashamed, because while there is NO shame in this burden, I have found that many women I speak to feel a deep sense of shame, somehow blaming themselves for what has happened. Treat yourselves with gentleness. Mourn the way you need to mourn. Celebrate the time you got with your baby if that is what best suits you. Allow yourself to change your mind in how you cope, recognizing that there is no right way to cope with such a tragedy (excluding causing harm to yourself or others of course). For me, I find different seasons to bring various challenges and I still battle some of those feelings of guilt, so I have to remind myself how lucky I am, but also to give my heart and my mind a break and allow them to feel what they need to feel. To all the families who have lost, to all the families waiting patiently, to all the families who cling to their miracles but still relive the losses, my heart is with you. This week, when we light our remembrance candle (made by a dear friend for our daughter) we also light for all the pregnancies, infants, and children lost here on earth.

Posted on in Parenting

Shifting Gears

Moving into a new chapter as a mama

Today, my husband took our son to his first NFL game. Our son has been so excited; for weeks since we broke the news to him, he has been counting down the days to go see “his team.” I must admit, as excited as I was for him and my husband to share this moment, I was also a bit sad, and maybe even envious, too. I immediately went to a handful of trusted confidantes, one of which I consider not only my friend, but my mentor as well. I cannot begin to express the importance of finding a mentor; someone who you respect and who has been where you now walk or are about to journey on and explained to her exactly what I was feeling. She naturally understood, and helped me put words to my feelings, since as much as I didn’t want to admit it initially, it was difficult to relinquish control and let my husband run the show on this one. I guess it also felt like the end of an era for my son and me in some ways. She told me the reality is that the bittersweet feelings I have as a mother of a son will only continue. “As he continues to grow, your relationship will continue to change, and you’ll grieve it a bit, but then you’ll watch it take on a different form and you’ll grow to love that, too.” After I had a good cry and even let my husband in on what I was feeling, I sat and reflected on why I felt this strongly about this entire situation.

Then, it hit me. The moment my son was born, I was reborn.  I don’t say that in the sense that I didn’t know who I was or that I wasn’t proud of the human I was becoming, but it was that moment that changed the entire course of my future. All the dreams I had for myself came true in a completely unexpected way; this was the purpose that had been carved out just for me. As he grew, I grew, and our relationship became one of the most precious ones in my life. When my husband pursued his dream job, taking him away from us for 6 months, our bond continued to grow. He is easily one of my favorite human beings and a person I want to always know, especially as he grows older and we can shift from the parent-child role to that of best friends. I can recall a former employer telling me to soak up the moments I was his world, because as he got older, undoubtedly, there would be moments he would start to jump for daddy over mommy, and while I knew the days would come, I still wasn’t prepared.

Let me be perfectly clear: my husband was meant to be a dad. Even before I could picture myself as mama, he always knew he was meant for it. My feelings as we shift roles a bit has nothing to do with his capabilities as a parent, but just my own feelings of knowing my son is growing, and that yes, while I will always have a special place in his life, my role will start to shift as he gets older. While I am still the person he asks to snuggle him at night and the side he climbs to in the middle of the night if he has a nightmare, I can see the ways his interests now have him gravitating more towards his dad. As this happens, I will continue to repeat the words my dear friend said to me. I know it is okay to feel sad at times about this and even to grieve the moments he may no longer want me as a coach or may let go of my hand as we talk to school, but I know this awareness will only help me savor the moments I do have, even more. I look forward to seeing my husband and son get to do more together, even without his sister and me, and I know that whatever form our mother-son relationship takes, it will be absolutely beautiful.

Posted on in Marriage/Relationships, Parenting

When We’re Running on Empty

How do we keep it together when we feel so utterly exhausted?

Real talk. Lately it has felt like I am trying to balance so much, that one tiny thing could tip the entire scale and force it all to come crashing down. I am not one who does well with “failure,” so it is times like these that I struggle with drowning out the bitterness and/or resentment that can creep in when I feel like everyone else has it together and I just can’t seem to get my dang footing in place. I know I am not alone in this, and we have those days where it just feels like the day turns into a week and you just cannot shake the negative energy. Even my prayers just felt a little half-assed because I knew how distracted I was by the “things” I felt I needed to be doing and simply adjusting to new schedules with my kids and managing that with my husband’s schedule while trying to find a moment of “self-care” for myself, too. I set my youngest up with some play-dough and some music, and decided to listen to a few-week old podcast from a friend/mentor I did an 8-month Bible Study/healing journey with, Toni Collier.

This particular episode had April Daniels as a guest, and the two spoke about life after loss (if you do not know, April Daniels was married to songwriter/producer LaShawn Daniels, who passed tragically in a car crash in 2019). The entire podcast centered around the way that life truly can give us a lot of reasons to be angry sometimes, but we only need ONE reason to be grateful. When asked what advice she’d give herself during her darkest moments, April responded to, “Keep a log of your history with God.” She explained how she wrote it down, those little moments, big moments, everything in between that reminded her of God’s goodness and how He has shown up for her time and time again. She did this so that on the dark days, she had something to look back to to combat that feeling of despair and the falsities that come into our heads that we are alone. As I listened, and naturally teared up because I am definitely one who finds crying therapeutic, I got my phone out and started making notes of all the moments I knew I felt His presence. Similar to a gratitude journal, which I have done as well and found valuable, but I found this more freeing in the sense that I did not need a prompt; I simply could take any moment that made me smile or made me feel brave or reminded me that I am not alone, and log it. Those little moments that feel like someone is looking down on you, whether you believe in God, or the universe, or whatever it may be, in those moments where you felt that little “wink” of goodness, write it down. Speak it out loud – voice note it, whatever it is. Save it for the harder days. Save it for those days that you feel like the world is closing in on you and you feel like that bitterness is going to get ya– maybe your kids just aren’t hearing you the way you want them to, maybe it just feels like your partner and you cannot get on the same page; whatever it might be, you can look back and say, “Hey, I know that He showed up for me then, so He will show up for me now.” It truly has helped keep me in perspective, because, yes, there will be many times that life just feels so out of our control and like you are being pulled in different directions, but to be able to run through the way the chaos has worked to your benefit is so comforting. It may not change the morning disaster in that no matter how many times I seem to remind my children, my youngest insists on waiting to put her socks on until we are walking out the door, BUT it sure can bring you down from completely losing it day in and day out as you get it under control.

Posted on in Parenting

Managing the “After-School Restraint Collapse”

We know it is real and we may not be able to avoid it completely, but we can definitely minimize the intensity.

My son’s first day went as dreamily as I could hope. Great report from both teacher and student, and he had so much to say on the way home. I was not prepared, however, for the behavior I would be getting once we got home. While he was happy and excited, it felt as if he had completely turned his ears off and forgotten what his life was like. Every little task, even though routine, became an issue; I consistently had to repeat myself, even to the point of screaming, and every request was met with push-back. I am talking, borderline throwing himself on the ground in a tantrum I had actually never seen from him before, but definitely do see from my current toddler. My husband and I looked at one another that first day, trying to remain patient and compassionate, but rather flabbergasted. “This cannot be how it is going to be from now on,” I thought to myself multiple times as I fought tears. We were going to have less time together now, and instead the time we did have, I did not recognize the child in front of me.

Naturally, I went to friends with kids a year or two older just to discuss how it went for their children. The second I mentioned the after-school meltdown, each person either sighed with relief, laughed, or gasped in a clear sign of camaraderie. “My child STILL does this when a school year starts, for about the first month,” one friend shared, indicating that for her, bringing the kids home and letting them watch a show for the first 15 minutes often helped them decompress before homework time, etc. Other parents shared how their first go-to was a snack and water (sometimes even in the car if they had errands to run), or snack and homework together right in the first half hour and then decompressing time before the meltdown might hit. This got me thinking about what might work best for us to minimize the after-school crash. I get it, as adults, I know many people by 2pm who are grabbing a caffeine fix or scheduling their workouts around that time as a “pick-me-up,” so I can very much understand our kids needing some kind of outlet or boost, particularly as they adjust to a new schedule. I decided to do some research on this “after school crash/meltdown” and found various articles from“Afterschool Restraint Collapse,” (Today’s Parent, https://www.todaysparent.com/kids/school-age/after-school-restraint-collapse-is-a-real-thing-heres-how-to-deal-with-it/) to insight from TheMomPsychologists on Instagram, offering explanations and tips for why this happens and best practices to try to cope. 

The following day I immediately implemented the snack and water, even picking up a special snack for my son to eat in the car, while we ran a handful of errands. I told myself that after that day, I would try to enforce a “non-busy” after-school routine until we got a grasp on how to best help him decompress and get through the remainder of the day. While I am thrilled to know how well-behaved he is in school, it definitely is a challenge to try to keep it together all day, and then naturally, when they return to their home environments, they collapse. The entire following week, I committed to a strict schedule of various practices to determine which best fit to minimizing the collapse. This week did throw some unexpected plans that shifted my “control agents,” but I felt it was helpful to also see how he adapted.

Monday – after school snack of “Ants on a Log” (celery with peanut butter and raisins), and a slice of homemade pumpkin bread from the night before. I set up a sensory bin on the table for him to play with while he snacked, so that he could unwind, but still be at the table for if we needed to do homework. I added in a basement game for him to play with my husband just because I wound up with a doctor’s appointment and have noticed that on days my husband is off, my son loves to play physical games with him that he does not necessarily play with me. Behavior was pretty great, minus some issues sharing dad with his sister (which is normal given my husband’s schedule).

Tuesday – after school snack of Apple Nachos (sliced apples drizzled with vanilla greek yogurt and nutella; topped with coconut flakes and chopped nuts). I set up mini stations with magnatiles one one side (we have a ton of additions to our sets thanks to many family members, so there are so many options for this type of play), an indoor bean bag toss, and playdough. 

Wednesday – Snack: Ants on a log – celery topped with ranch and goldfish; celery topped with nutella, chopped nuts, coconut flakes; celery topped with peanut butter, raisins, and some mini m&ms. My husband happened to be off, so we actually made a family activity as our decompressing time and played Monopoly Junior for an hour. This really had him in great spirits, so I did allow him to cash in usage of his points (Garmin watch that we assign chores to, etc.) to use his tablet to play a game. 

Thursday – Snack:Trail Mix; we were on the go to make his hair cut at the barbershop for picture day, so I had to get creative. I still wanted him to have a snack that would hold him over until dinner and refuel him, so I used some plain cereal, raisins, unsalted pistachios, and some mini m&ms for added fun.. For our activity, we parked a few blocks away from the Barbershop and “raced” there so that he was ready to just sit for the shape up. At home, I had coloring work waiting just because I feel he has gravitated away from it, but it was always a soothing activity for him. I had his Back to School Night, so we were a little off routine, but I wanted to keep it as close to usual right up until I left and our sitter ran bed-time. 

Friday – I decided to mix things up just because my husband was home and I could tell that my son needed some one-on-one mom and son time. I walked over to our favorite bakery/cafe and picked up an herbal iced tea he loves (raspberry hibiscus rose tea) and a special treat of a pistachio brownie. We walked home together, which I don’t know if it was the physical activity or the conversation that really aided in helping him decompress. 

While I recognize that various factors may impact each school day and how the afternoon goes after pick-up, having food and water ready, along with some kind of activity really kept the meltdowns at bay. My son has never been in school for a full day, and while I understand him coming home to his “safe place” and it all falling apart some days, I wanted to find a way to help him through, because as frustrating as it is for us parents, I am sure it is more so for him, unable to understand when his emotions and feelings just totally overload him after a great day in school. I am a huge fan of structure; I love routine, so for us, adding in this afternoon variation that still fits with a routine is perfect. I can see even the weekend, the way the deviation took a little toll and impacted my kids’ behavior, but keeping that afternoon snack and activity time (post-nap for my youngest) still helped us get the rest of the afternoons and evenings back on track. This was especially important to me to try to find a system that worked as we prepare to add in his fall sport in the next week and a half. Hopefully another parent/guardian/friend of someone with kids may find a routine like this helps them, too!

Posted on in Parenting

Projecting Our Fears on Our Kids

How do we balance our own fears as our kids enter new phases?

I wrote last week about the mourning as one chapter ended and another one began with my son beginning elementary school. What I realized in the first week, however, is that a lot of the anxieties and fears I was having were my own. My son was READY – a stark comparison from last year (as we did a year of homeschool to determine if we’d send him to first grade when he entered school or to a year of Kindergarten) to this year, which erased any doubts we had of our decision to hold him. His academics had never been a concern, but that social and emotional readiness was so evident as we prepared and went through his first few days. I, on the other hand, was struggling so much, even knowing he was ready, and I couldn’t figure why until after that first day. Then, it hit me. All the jitters he wasn’t having, but I was, were the same jitters I have had since I was a kid whenever school was starting. This eager anticipation mixed with uneasiness stuck with me through graduate school, and even into my years of teaching; preparing for a new school year always brought a heightened sense of stress for me, with my type A personality and major perfectionist attitude that I wore like a badge of honor, it made new beginnings borderline miserable. As a parent, I have worked so hard to minimize these aspects of my personality and find ways to use them to benefit myself and my family, but as my own son started school, they all came flooding back, forcing me to face them in a new way.

As I prepared his supplies, even though I naturally did it weeks ahead, I felt the same jitters, the same worries about studying, tests, time management, etc. It brought me to tears worrying of all of these thoughts running through my son’s mind, except… they weren’t. These feelings were about me, not about him at all. My beautiful son, Lord bless him, has acquired the traits I like most about myself, perfectly mixed with the most wonderful attributes of his father. Among my favorites, this being my husband’s sense of ease in most things he does, especially when he knows he is prepared. My son, naturally, did feel prepared, thanks to the efforts we have put in, which we did for the exact reasons of giving him the strategies and abilities to move forward and also to be able to vocalize when he needs assistance. For him, he felt completely capable and ready to move into this next phase, completely armed with the same charming smile as his dad, and the faith and prayers of his mama. In fact, my husband and I both have spent so much time in also expressing what expectations we DO have, none of which are necessarily strictly academic based in the sense of achieving high scores, but more in the respect of listening and taking one’s time to complete tasks so you ensure you have given it your full attention and focus. 

After I met with another fellow mom and friend, one who was very similar in personality to me in school, I shared with her what I had realized about why I was having such a hard time with my son starting school. She gasped, grabbed my arm, and told me she had realized the same thing. In fact, she admitted she had recurring dreams the week leading up to her own kids beginning school, of preparing for a test, only to get to class and it be a totally different test than what she studied for. While I naturally do not bask in glory when my friends are struggling, I breathed a sigh of relief to know I was not alone. When I shared the story with another mom friend, she said she had similar feelings when her child started, her own insecurities coming to the surface and worrying of her child having the same feelings she did, putting the same immense amount of pressure on herself that was more destructive mentally than it was constructive in any capacity. 

As parents, we naturally want what is best for our children. Sometimes, however, I think those lines get blurred when we accidentally project our own insecurities on our kids and almost encourage fears they themselves don’t have. It can become increasingly difficult then, to even assist our own children as we are grappling to come to terms with our own fears. While I do not have a fix on how to prevent this from happening, I can say that when it does happen, taking the time to address the situation is monumental. As my son let go of my hand and walked into his building without looking back, I was finally able to put words and understanding to what I had been feeling. Facing it, facing where I felt I had failed in my need to excel gave me newfound courage to better approach this new phase in my son’s life. I anticipate that it will even potentially help me identify what areas my son may struggle in as we move forward, because I can see more clearly what fears are my own vs. what his may be. I even chose to share this with my son, and that honest vulnerability felt fantastic to offer to my child so that he hopefully sees my learning as well and feels comfortable sharing his own fears with me.

Posted on in Parenting

First Day Jitters

A new chapter awaits, but this mama has been struggling..

I have definitely been in mourning. Mourning a chapter of my life that feels like it is closing. While I am usually one to look excitedly to the future, this particular chapter ending/beginning has given me a particularly difficult time. My first born, after 2.5 years of a pandemic and home school, is about to go off to school this week. While I am so excited for him, there is a part of me that is utterly heartbroken. It feels like time is moving all too fast and that I am losing my little boy. In a sense perhaps I am, but with the gift of seeing him age right before my eyes. This is where the panic and my own insecurities have crept in. 

Have I prepared him enough?

Will be be sure to be a leader and be compassionate and kind? 

Will be get himself into trouble?

Will others be kind to him?

Was holding him a year the right decision?

Have my mistakes and freak outs scarred him for life? 

Will he come to me? 

I pray he always knows how loved he is, not just by me, but by God. Even in the moments as he ages that he feels he cannot talk to me, I pray I’ve built enough of foundation for him to always know he can bring it to God and be guided to make the right decisions. I am trying to not get ahead of myself, but I have definitely spent a lot of this last week either reminiscing and getting emotional over how much he’s grown, and flashing forward in my mind to what is yet to come. Even taking him for his haircut this week, I sat at the barbershop as he made his way and expressed exactly what he wanted; two high school aged boys sat near us, and I got choked up as my mind flashed forward to my own child sitting there 10 years later, without me by his side. This has been happening more frequently as I struggle with reminiscing about the past and hoping I have savored the time enough, and looking to the future, hoping that all the moments we’ve shared have been enough to give him a solid foundation. 

After countless conversations with parents who have been here before me and my non-parent, elementary teacher friends, it has been constant that all I can do is try to remain as present as I can, trusting that my day to day preparations have been enough. As cliché as it may be, the only real way to approach this next chapter is one little step at a time. It is the daily moments of preparation with my child, being honest about how excited I am for him, though I’ll miss him terribly. It is living each day as we have, but trying to be more intentional in soaking up each moment. I cannot go back, and I cannot worry myself so much about the future, but I can continue to work alongside my child, growing with him and preparing as best as we can for certain occasions, while being real about the fact that it may not all look the way we want. We can do our best to prepare our children, but on that actual day when a brand new chapter starts for them, all we can do is watch them take that step with the confidence that in every new adventure, they know that we’ll be in their corners, probably sobbing in our cars as they walk away.