Archives for the month of: February, 2013

winterforestWe are a few days and several hours in the countdown until departure to Guam. I have chores and errands that shoot randomly across the screen of my mind, like passing cars on a busy highway. ————- water the plants —————

———- mail out kid’s thanks yous ——————– pack Benadryl ———–

I try to catch them and stuff them somewhere safe, like catching fireflies in jars, but they are fast and I’m easily distracted. This morning, as we were getting children ready for the bus, I found myself digging out sun hats and considering sunglasses options for a 5 year old. Luckily, the girls made the bus with their more appropriate winter woolens instead.

There is a deeper, darker thought that surfaces these days, one that overtakes my usual neurosis about losing camera bags and blizzards delaying our flight. What if I don’t want to come back? What if, when standing in the warm sun, looking out over a sparkling azure ocean filled with a rainbow of fish, surrounded by a lush green landscape, my spirit breaks free and I crack and out oozes my resolve and my strength and I am unable to climb onboard that plane that carries me back to a land frozen under ice and snow and obligation?

————— clean out the fridge ————————————————

——————————————- call the plow guy ———————-

I guess we’ll just wait and see.

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This morning, well after the girls were on the bus and I was on my way through my doctor prescribed cup of coffee, I wandered into the living room to find my 5 year old’s underpants on the couch. There they sat, full of pink flowers and monkeys, balled up and forgotten, like a neglected child whose mother forgot to pick up after Girl Scouts. As I looked at this tiny, fashion requirement, I wondered two things:

1. If here were her underpants, what was she wearing to school?
2. How in the Hell am I going to get these children across the international date line and back in one piece?

The first question is a no brainer. The only reason that I know she is currently wearing underwear is because, if she is anything like her mother, the unbridled freedom of not wearing underwear after practically being pushed out of the uterine canal with a diaper on is unsettling and just a little too much carefreeness for one girl, thank you very much. It is the other that has become a looming concern in my brain, stomping its way into the forefront of my sanity.

I kind of understand the lack of thinking that is too often exhibited by the youngest. She’s little, and to be fair, coddled a bit more than her sister ever was because she is the baby. She has a tendency to run out of the house without a jacket (like all of December) or appear at a restaurant without shoes (happened twice), all because she is used to someone thinking for her. I blame myself. I will try to be more diligent about giving her space to be independent. Just know that I will continue to have a hard time letting her pour ANYTHING out of a full carton or jug, shampoo her own hair or feed the fish by herself. That’s just reckless parenting.

Last week, the 9 year old lost a tooth, her 11th, while at school. Before the day was out she had misplaced it twice, the second time for good. She stumbled off of the bus, worried that she had ruined any shot of seeing the Tooth Fairy. (Yes, the Tooth Fairy is still a very big part of our family, and frankly needs to get off of her deadbeat ass and start making some decisions about what to do with all of these nasty teeth, as well as get herself some part-time paying work.) I consoled her that all would be well, and it was as the TF left her a lovely little ring (that used to live in the basement, but found its way under her pillow) that evening. The next day, she promptly lost the ring.

I know I wrote about letting go of expectations and being free from the panic of over planning, but I’m starting to get really concerned that if my children don’t start plugging into their surroundings and pay attention to what is going on around them, they might get accidentally left behind in a Japanese bathroom stall. Yesterday I awoke to find the rear car window all the way down, after my oldest had opened it in the rain… in January!… IN UPSTATE NY! At this rate, I’m only slightly comforted by the idea that I’ll be the only one that makes it across the Guam finish line, when I consider that my DNA will be lost, scattered like seeds in the wind, across the globe.

My husband is all about giving them more responsibility and more independence. He is a big proponent of pointing to various locations within the house and grunting when they request things like food or supplies. He also makes a habit of calling me in to watch every docudrama that features Thai children that paddle two hours to school each day (I pointed out that one was eaten by a killer croc!) or children that have to scale the ice covered walls of raging riverbeds in the Himalayas to even get the privilege of going to school. Yeah, I get it. I fold their underwear and remind them to brush their teeth. It will be all my fault when they drop out of college and consider collecting coins from under couch cushions as paying rent. But, if I want them to one day takeover multi-national corporations, or just make it to a meal in public fully dressed, I have to start somewhere and that somewhere is now.

To begin, I will ask them all sorts of critical thinking questions, “If you get hot walking around the grocery store, and we’re not pushing a cart, what do you do with your jacket?” or “You want to draw on the plane, so you pull out your notebook and 10 pens, but the table is sloped and the pens are rolling about, what do you do?” or “Dad says ‘Get in the car!’ but you have no pants on, what do you do?” Hopefully they’ll think of this like a game and get excited to problem solve their little selves into better awareness.

Then, we can create one of those sticker charts that rewards them for accomplishing certain goals, like remembering to bring their snow pants home from school, not losing their lunchbox on the bus and cleaning the car once a week. Ok, we might have to work up to that last one. I’ve heard some parents make remarkable progress with these charts. We had one that somehow required me to continue to purchase stickers, even though many of the jobs went unchecked.

I realize that the majority of my apprehension is tied up in expecting a crisis free trip (I told you last post I was working on that), but it is also about letting go of the control I exert over my children. It is easy to sit here and complain that my kids don’t do their part, but it is my attachment to keeping them little, to making things smoother and easier and doing it for them, to not wanting the headache of spilled orange juice and dirty hair to complicate my life. I realize that by stepping in and doing the work for them in the short term, things move along in a speedy and tidy manner. But in the long run, my children are incapable of caring for themselves in my absence.

I also recognize that I have to have realistic expectations about what they can accomplish. A 5 year old can probably wash her hair by herself. A 9 year old will lose things.

Again, as I am finding in parenting over and over, it is I who has to do the hardest work by remaining flexible, letting go of control and giving my kids the space to accomplish goals on their own. Only then will they understand pride of accomplishment and begin to truly become independent. It might make me crazy in the short term, but it will build strong women with a lot of sanity in the long run.

But mark my words, if these tried and true parenting techniques fail, there is one other stand-by I won’t hesitate to employ. Nothing says mental reminder like a Sharpie marker list on the forehead.

Hey, I don’t have a lot of time here. We leave in under 2 weeks.