What a sloppy week. That's the single best way to describe the week that ended--for me--at 11:59:59 EDST last night.
The adult me mastered the art of compartmentalizing my life. I had to--for ten years I ran my own writing business from home while I shepherded both boys from diapers to early intervention to preschool to elementary school. Running a tight ship--essential. And I carried these lessons with me when I re-entered corporate last year.
But, as I discovered, life cannot always be so neatly contained.
Work, boys, home, hubby--all these things sloshed into one big pot and became stew, cooked on the coals of my own chagrin.
Fortunately, I am surrounded by people who get it, who laugh at me and my chagrin, and encourage me to laugh, too. And I laugh because I can't help it. When things hum along smoothly, I think it's my doing--until I am reminded when everything rides off the rails that I control very, very little.
I cannot always contain the chaos, but I can laugh while I mop up after it. And why not? Real life is messy. But if you want to survive, you damn well better know how to laugh at it.
Just random scenes from the past week: the brothers C showing up to hang out with Nic (one left after 10 minutes, the other stayed to watch a movie with Nic); dragging the boys out to run the mile (Nic complained from start to finish and at least G got his proprioceptive input on the swings at the end); meetings that ran over, spilled over, fires to put out, egos to soothe, feathers to smooth, and the piece de resistance, my running all over the infield at the subnovice meet screaming for an audience of several hundred, "Run G--THIS WAY!" By the way, he finished his first 400 and received his first running ribbon, even though he started with the first heat and finished well behind the last.
But he finished.
So I begin my week off with a pile of work that still needs to get done, the kids will be home, and with any amount of luck we will get some adventures in. We all need to get off the treadmill for a bit--if I can get a couple days of that action, I'll be happy.
But as ever, I will do the needful. Because that's what I do.
My bucket, mop, and sense of humor are standing by.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Spoke Too Soon
We’ll be taking scouts out of rotation for Nic for the foreseeable. Last night did not go well, for a number of reasons. After dad gave me what he knew, I had a one-on-one with Nic to deconstruct the evening. He cried. He wants fun! Weenie roasts! I quietly replied that he needed to figure out what he wanted to do, and then figure out a way to make it happen.
Because it won’t happen by itself. And it won’t happen if he doesn’t make it happen. I can only do so much—it’s coming on time for him to do more of the heavy lifting.
His limitations sadden him. I understand—probably better than he does—how sadness converts to other things. In recent past, he has tended to push blame away. Now begins the difficult task of teaching ownership, and using and applying the lessons from disappointment to future wins and successes.
I’ve known far too many adults who continue to blame everyone and everything else for his or her life’s disappointments. I don’t want that for my boys; I want them to claim and own responsibility for that which they can control. Ask the question: how could I have handled this better?
Next time, do it.
I understand why people give up. I wander through the valleys of darkness probably more often than I care to admit. Hubby and I talked after my conversation with Nic, and what I came away with was that he wants, as much as possible, to protect Nic, to keep his good humor and happiness intact.
“He has a long road ahead,” I answered. “I came out on the other side okay. But I worry about him.”
And this is where I fold in on myself, worrying about what middle school is going to do to him, worrying about the mean kids and their mean parents who defend the actions of their children with “If he weren’t so different, if he just TRIED to fit in, he wouldn’t be such a target.”
As if he chose to be this way.
I continue to struggle. Are these activities just a distraction? We do as much as we do because my kids do learn from these interactions with their peers. Yes, it is painful for me to watch, but it’s not about me. It’s about learning, interacting, figuring out where my boys fit in the world.
Some days, I admit, in this little corner of the universe? There’s no fit.
Only with me.
For all the rest of the time, I pray. Hard.
It’s all I have.
Because it won’t happen by itself. And it won’t happen if he doesn’t make it happen. I can only do so much—it’s coming on time for him to do more of the heavy lifting.
His limitations sadden him. I understand—probably better than he does—how sadness converts to other things. In recent past, he has tended to push blame away. Now begins the difficult task of teaching ownership, and using and applying the lessons from disappointment to future wins and successes.
I’ve known far too many adults who continue to blame everyone and everything else for his or her life’s disappointments. I don’t want that for my boys; I want them to claim and own responsibility for that which they can control. Ask the question: how could I have handled this better?
Next time, do it.
I understand why people give up. I wander through the valleys of darkness probably more often than I care to admit. Hubby and I talked after my conversation with Nic, and what I came away with was that he wants, as much as possible, to protect Nic, to keep his good humor and happiness intact.
“He has a long road ahead,” I answered. “I came out on the other side okay. But I worry about him.”
And this is where I fold in on myself, worrying about what middle school is going to do to him, worrying about the mean kids and their mean parents who defend the actions of their children with “If he weren’t so different, if he just TRIED to fit in, he wouldn’t be such a target.”
As if he chose to be this way.
I continue to struggle. Are these activities just a distraction? We do as much as we do because my kids do learn from these interactions with their peers. Yes, it is painful for me to watch, but it’s not about me. It’s about learning, interacting, figuring out where my boys fit in the world.
Some days, I admit, in this little corner of the universe? There’s no fit.
Only with me.
For all the rest of the time, I pray. Hard.
It’s all I have.
Monday, April 11, 2011
All Spring in a Week
Nothing has cratered.
I'm used to crashing and burning, all an affair of my life with my heroes and villains (with apologies to Brian Wilson). We sign up for a half dozen things, and then one by one, stuff drops off because boy 1 or boy 2 decides he's done, and that's that.
We have scouts, now divided between two troops, track, now divided between two teams, swimming and practice, fortunately both together, bowling, ditto, and now soccer starts up this week, also fortunately together.
Unfortunately, the stuff done separately is starting to overlap, and we find ourselves, now two weeks in a row on a Friday, triple and quadruple booked.
Did I ever complain of not having enough to do? Really?
Before Nic's triumphant meet last week, we had spent the weekend camping with G's pack. Hubby and I brought two cars--just in case. And we managed to leave with two cars--not to say there weren't moments when leaving seemed like the right thing to do. Especially when things got a little too Lord of the Flies. Fortunately, we did not require the services of either First Aid or an ER.
Also, being surrounded by big men with bigger voices helped.
I suppose I should spend a moment ruminating about being the only female den leader, but it's actually not too bad, and I think spending a weekend in relatively close quarters with the, um, intensity that is my life with my sons actually helped my relationships with the other committee members. (I mean, the reason I don't do more for the pack is because my kids require intense attention. I think they get that, now).
Track was supposed to be my nonstarter, but Nic likes it. He finished four seconds faster in his 100 than his first run. I am working with him to pick up his times in the 400 and 200 this coming week, and also preparing him to run the 800 in the last meet.
I like it, too. I'm thinking marathon. Maybe.
Scouts, amazingly, seems to be working out for him. We'll finish out the year, and then see where we are come September. But there, too, Nic seems to be enjoying himself and getting a lot out of it.
And Nic made states for swimming again. I will go with him, this time as his 1:1. And we'll see how it goes.
We went fishing last night with friends. And once again, I am grateful for all the good and good people that surround us.
I still haven't figured out how to deal with the four simultaneous events this Friday, but I have four days to work it out.
Nothing has cratered.
I'm used to crashing and burning, all an affair of my life with my heroes and villains (with apologies to Brian Wilson). We sign up for a half dozen things, and then one by one, stuff drops off because boy 1 or boy 2 decides he's done, and that's that.
We have scouts, now divided between two troops, track, now divided between two teams, swimming and practice, fortunately both together, bowling, ditto, and now soccer starts up this week, also fortunately together.
Unfortunately, the stuff done separately is starting to overlap, and we find ourselves, now two weeks in a row on a Friday, triple and quadruple booked.
Did I ever complain of not having enough to do? Really?
Before Nic's triumphant meet last week, we had spent the weekend camping with G's pack. Hubby and I brought two cars--just in case. And we managed to leave with two cars--not to say there weren't moments when leaving seemed like the right thing to do. Especially when things got a little too Lord of the Flies. Fortunately, we did not require the services of either First Aid or an ER.
Also, being surrounded by big men with bigger voices helped.
I suppose I should spend a moment ruminating about being the only female den leader, but it's actually not too bad, and I think spending a weekend in relatively close quarters with the, um, intensity that is my life with my sons actually helped my relationships with the other committee members. (I mean, the reason I don't do more for the pack is because my kids require intense attention. I think they get that, now).
Track was supposed to be my nonstarter, but Nic likes it. He finished four seconds faster in his 100 than his first run. I am working with him to pick up his times in the 400 and 200 this coming week, and also preparing him to run the 800 in the last meet.
I like it, too. I'm thinking marathon. Maybe.
Scouts, amazingly, seems to be working out for him. We'll finish out the year, and then see where we are come September. But there, too, Nic seems to be enjoying himself and getting a lot out of it.
And Nic made states for swimming again. I will go with him, this time as his 1:1. And we'll see how it goes.
We went fishing last night with friends. And once again, I am grateful for all the good and good people that surround us.
I still haven't figured out how to deal with the four simultaneous events this Friday, but I have four days to work it out.
Nothing has cratered.
Monday, April 4, 2011
He Didn't Give Up
There has been far too much happening lately for me to write; some good, some bad, some ugly, some scary, and some beautiful.
If there is one moment I want to capture of the last two weeks, it was Nic crossing the finish line of the 400 yesterday.
Nic's track coach is wonderful. He is a truly decent man who doesn't mind coaching anyone who has an interest in running. And there is something about him that Nic identifies with, because he does want to do his best for Coach S, even though he understands what he's up against.
Simply put, the rest of the kids have been doing this for years. They are all fast, or at any rate, faster than Nic. They do their best to help Nic keep up, but they break away. Consequently, I run with Nic, so he doesn't get too discouraged. That's been working out well, and Coach doesn't object.
Actually, if I didn't run with Nic, I know he would drop out from sheer disappointment that he is not as fast as the other kids. I want him to run, not because I think he'll be a champion runner, but because it's good exercise, and I think it'll help him start making wiser food choices at some point.
And I run because I need the exercise, and I find that I enjoy it.
So, Coach did a few extra drills with Nic, and made a deal for Nic to run a 400 for him by the end of the season.
Well, yesterday was the first opportunity. And although Nic balked, I convinced him to run it.
"But I won't win," he said. "I'm so slow."
"It doesn't matter," I replied. "Whatever you do today will be your time to beat next race."
So when they called the novice 400 runners to the field, I walked down with Nic to the staging area. Coach glanced over, did a double-take, and trotted over.
"You make it to the 200, I will take it home with you, okay?" Coach asked Nic.
"Okay," Nic nodded and extended his hand so they could shake on it. Coach gave me thumbs up and a wink.
Nic talked to the other two boys who would run with him. I told one of them to assure Nic that this wouldn't kill him. He laughed and obliged. Nic watched the other runners and glanced at me nervously. I knew what he was thinking. He didn't want to start the race and not be able to finish it. Especially with all these people watching.
"You can do this," I told him repeatedly. "I wouldn't tell you that if I didn't believe it."
He nodded, shifted his feet, did some stretches.
His was the last heat. I pointed to the faded hash marks that marked his starting point and wished him luck. He nodded, then turned to look at the starter.
He bolted at the sound of the pistol, and for the first 150 meters kept up with two of the boys in his heat (the third was way ahead, but that's a whole other story). He started dropping back.
"Come on, Nic" I shouted. "You can do it!"
Coach S met Nic at the 200 mark and ran with him. About two thirds of his way around, the other boys had already crossed the line.
Then something amazing happened.
Every one on the field was watching Nic and chanting, "Go! Go! Go!" Coach dropped off and let Nic run the last 100 himself, to the thunderous enthusiasm of the crowd. I stood in his lane and shouted, "You got it! Run it in!"
The place erupted in cheers as Nic crossed the line at 2 minutes and 28 seconds.
He was nearly in tears running those last few meters, but hearing the applause and cheers made him smile. And he could scarcely believe he did it.
"I didn't give up, mom," he said proudly. "I wanted to, but I didn't."
Coach S trotted up, high-fived Nic and praised him. "And you will only get faster, every time you do this."
Nic beamed.
"You will do this again, right?" I asked. "Because you just proved you can do it."
So I will print the picture below, and frame it for him, and hope that no matter how tough life gets, no matter how lonely his struggles are, that there was one moment in his life where he struggled, people cheered him on...
...and he prevailed.
If there is one moment I want to capture of the last two weeks, it was Nic crossing the finish line of the 400 yesterday.
Nic's track coach is wonderful. He is a truly decent man who doesn't mind coaching anyone who has an interest in running. And there is something about him that Nic identifies with, because he does want to do his best for Coach S, even though he understands what he's up against.
Simply put, the rest of the kids have been doing this for years. They are all fast, or at any rate, faster than Nic. They do their best to help Nic keep up, but they break away. Consequently, I run with Nic, so he doesn't get too discouraged. That's been working out well, and Coach doesn't object.
Actually, if I didn't run with Nic, I know he would drop out from sheer disappointment that he is not as fast as the other kids. I want him to run, not because I think he'll be a champion runner, but because it's good exercise, and I think it'll help him start making wiser food choices at some point.
And I run because I need the exercise, and I find that I enjoy it.
So, Coach did a few extra drills with Nic, and made a deal for Nic to run a 400 for him by the end of the season.
Well, yesterday was the first opportunity. And although Nic balked, I convinced him to run it.
"But I won't win," he said. "I'm so slow."
"It doesn't matter," I replied. "Whatever you do today will be your time to beat next race."
So when they called the novice 400 runners to the field, I walked down with Nic to the staging area. Coach glanced over, did a double-take, and trotted over.
"You make it to the 200, I will take it home with you, okay?" Coach asked Nic.
"Okay," Nic nodded and extended his hand so they could shake on it. Coach gave me thumbs up and a wink.
Nic talked to the other two boys who would run with him. I told one of them to assure Nic that this wouldn't kill him. He laughed and obliged. Nic watched the other runners and glanced at me nervously. I knew what he was thinking. He didn't want to start the race and not be able to finish it. Especially with all these people watching.
"You can do this," I told him repeatedly. "I wouldn't tell you that if I didn't believe it."
He nodded, shifted his feet, did some stretches.
His was the last heat. I pointed to the faded hash marks that marked his starting point and wished him luck. He nodded, then turned to look at the starter.
He bolted at the sound of the pistol, and for the first 150 meters kept up with two of the boys in his heat (the third was way ahead, but that's a whole other story). He started dropping back.
"Come on, Nic" I shouted. "You can do it!"
Coach S met Nic at the 200 mark and ran with him. About two thirds of his way around, the other boys had already crossed the line.
Then something amazing happened.
Every one on the field was watching Nic and chanting, "Go! Go! Go!" Coach dropped off and let Nic run the last 100 himself, to the thunderous enthusiasm of the crowd. I stood in his lane and shouted, "You got it! Run it in!"
The place erupted in cheers as Nic crossed the line at 2 minutes and 28 seconds.
He was nearly in tears running those last few meters, but hearing the applause and cheers made him smile. And he could scarcely believe he did it.
"I didn't give up, mom," he said proudly. "I wanted to, but I didn't."
Coach S trotted up, high-fived Nic and praised him. "And you will only get faster, every time you do this."
Nic beamed.
"You will do this again, right?" I asked. "Because you just proved you can do it."
So I will print the picture below, and frame it for him, and hope that no matter how tough life gets, no matter how lonely his struggles are, that there was one moment in his life where he struggled, people cheered him on...
...and he prevailed.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Walking Placidly Among the Noise and Haste
I should be in a snit.
Had a third "I would hate to have to suspend him" talk with the program director on Friday, and it is not looking good for my elder boy. But as I said to her, and I know it to be true, in the grand scheme of things, it is not a big deal.
I did not lose my temper when I had to sign the incident notebook a second time in less than a week. I remained calm while Nic repeatedly screamed at me, "You are throwing a fit!"
"No, I am not throwing a fit," I repeatedly responded. "I am standing here calmly and telling you in a quiet voice what is going to happen as result of you flinging yourself on the ground and screaming like a three year old. Which, by the way, Nic, is a fit--which is what you threw."
I haven't quite figured out what I am going to do about this, yet. He remains grounded for the forseeable.
Track was canceled on account of the cold today, so unexpectedly, our day is open. I see hiking in our immediate future.
I'm not sure to what I owe my calm. Maybe that we've been so busy has helped me to stay focused. We've had a packed weekend so far, and running around from place to place has been a good distraction. I lectored this morning, and my class was a good one--talked to the kids about making good choices, and we had a lively discussion and a lot of fun.
I'm feeling a sense of peace and calm that I have never felt in my entire life. Serenity is a gift, and I feel like it has been delivered me in abundance.
To what--or whom?-- do I owe that?
Of course this is a rhetorical question. I know the source. And I am infinitely grateful for once again receiving the perfect gift, the perfect fit, and at the perfect time.
Have a beautiful week.
Had a third "I would hate to have to suspend him" talk with the program director on Friday, and it is not looking good for my elder boy. But as I said to her, and I know it to be true, in the grand scheme of things, it is not a big deal.
I did not lose my temper when I had to sign the incident notebook a second time in less than a week. I remained calm while Nic repeatedly screamed at me, "You are throwing a fit!"
"No, I am not throwing a fit," I repeatedly responded. "I am standing here calmly and telling you in a quiet voice what is going to happen as result of you flinging yourself on the ground and screaming like a three year old. Which, by the way, Nic, is a fit--which is what you threw."
I haven't quite figured out what I am going to do about this, yet. He remains grounded for the forseeable.
Track was canceled on account of the cold today, so unexpectedly, our day is open. I see hiking in our immediate future.
I'm not sure to what I owe my calm. Maybe that we've been so busy has helped me to stay focused. We've had a packed weekend so far, and running around from place to place has been a good distraction. I lectored this morning, and my class was a good one--talked to the kids about making good choices, and we had a lively discussion and a lot of fun.
I'm feeling a sense of peace and calm that I have never felt in my entire life. Serenity is a gift, and I feel like it has been delivered me in abundance.
To what--or whom?-- do I owe that?
Of course this is a rhetorical question. I know the source. And I am infinitely grateful for once again receiving the perfect gift, the perfect fit, and at the perfect time.
Have a beautiful week.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Haiku to you, too!
So it's Lent, and I've given up beer and wine (indeed, all alcohol). The irony here is that my kids have given me plenty to drink about if I were in that frame of mind, not the least of which was the "I would hate to have to suspend them," conversation I had with the program director at AfterCare today.
I don't get mad. I keep Lent by writing Haiku. Why? I find the energy is better spent that way, and I am also pretty good at it.
I've written about 3 dozen of them between last night and now; some highlights:
My kids do know how
to wind me around axles
I beg for mercy
the edge of the cliff
draws ever closer; I wish
my brakes worked better
Haiku therapy
Allows me to keep Lent by
venting spleen by hand
wrath of mom is good
enough to get older son
to empty washer
I got off a couple of other good ones, but they are in my other e-mail account.
Salve to my soul was a voice message left for me from a very dear friend. "I thank you for your kindness to me. I love you guys, and I know I am loved by you guys, and there is nothing better on this side of heaven than that."
And in other news, I am working with Nic on track. He likes it, even though he came in last in all his heats on Sunday. He wants to get better, and fortunately I am in decent enough shape to help him get there. The kids on the team are nice to him, and the coach so far has been very kind and supportive. And both kids learned a thing or two about shot-putting today.
Thankful for all the kindness that surrounds us, even when things don't go exactly as planned. It's all good.
I don't get mad. I keep Lent by writing Haiku. Why? I find the energy is better spent that way, and I am also pretty good at it.
I've written about 3 dozen of them between last night and now; some highlights:
My kids do know how
to wind me around axles
I beg for mercy
the edge of the cliff
draws ever closer; I wish
my brakes worked better
Haiku therapy
Allows me to keep Lent by
venting spleen by hand
wrath of mom is good
enough to get older son
to empty washer
I got off a couple of other good ones, but they are in my other e-mail account.
Salve to my soul was a voice message left for me from a very dear friend. "I thank you for your kindness to me. I love you guys, and I know I am loved by you guys, and there is nothing better on this side of heaven than that."
And in other news, I am working with Nic on track. He likes it, even though he came in last in all his heats on Sunday. He wants to get better, and fortunately I am in decent enough shape to help him get there. The kids on the team are nice to him, and the coach so far has been very kind and supportive. And both kids learned a thing or two about shot-putting today.
Thankful for all the kindness that surrounds us, even when things don't go exactly as planned. It's all good.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Clarity (Or, Life in an Alternate Universe)
My yesterday reminds me of much, not the least of which that it is possible to recover what seems to be an irrevocably lost day.
It definitely didn't begin well. Jumbled communication and roadwork ensured that we would get to swim lessons late. Which was just as well, because Nic and his new teacher butted heads over the modified backstroke. He wanted to use his competition kick and she wanted to teach him the correct kick for the stroke she was teaching.
From the balcony, I could see each one's point of view. And in a moment of clarity, I realized that this is the last session we'll do at this pool.
They did as well as they could in this program, but the truth is, neither of them are progressing. It's no one's fault; this just isn't the program for them.
How freeing that felt to realize and accept that.
We went to the library and explored a new park in anticipation of swim practice.....that wasn't. Yesterday was meet day at a program 45 minutes away. I called the coach, got directions, got the boys changed, hopped in the car, and headed west.
When we got there, Nic proceeded to give us a full-bore nuclear meltdown over the buzzer. Which lasted a half hour. Which he owes me for for the next week. Anyway, a kind man gave Nic a pair of headphones to block out the sound, dad arrived with lunch, and he went on to win two races (and messed up the third because he was too busy fussing with the headset to hear the starter).
On the way home, we found a park that I wanted to hike for a long time--and de-stressed the way I like to de-stress best. And the kids liked it, too.
Nic runs his first track meet today. All I ask is that he do his best, have fun, and stay in his lane. He promises that he will do all three.
Here's the thing. He knows he doesn't really fit in with the Special Olympics. He doesn't really fit in with the track team (and I wonder if the coach is wondering why I don't bug the SO track people--and do I really want to go there? NO.) So we straddle our shadow world, not necessarily being this OR that, but I feel less life-or-death about activities working out or not.
And I take it a lot less personally when things don't work out.
Probably the biggest take-away from yesterday was that my kids are amazingly flexible--we did a lot on the fly that worked out almost in spite of me. And I guess I am more flexible in that it was really easy for me (for once) to see what I need to engage in and what I need to walk away from.
Speaking of engaging in and/or walking away, I made some really good choices this week. For me. I'm wondering how much the kids saw, or even if they noticed.
The thing is, my kids notice everything. Whether I want them to or not.
All I can do is keep listening, keep heeding that inner voice....
...and keep moving forward.
It definitely didn't begin well. Jumbled communication and roadwork ensured that we would get to swim lessons late. Which was just as well, because Nic and his new teacher butted heads over the modified backstroke. He wanted to use his competition kick and she wanted to teach him the correct kick for the stroke she was teaching.
From the balcony, I could see each one's point of view. And in a moment of clarity, I realized that this is the last session we'll do at this pool.
They did as well as they could in this program, but the truth is, neither of them are progressing. It's no one's fault; this just isn't the program for them.
How freeing that felt to realize and accept that.
We went to the library and explored a new park in anticipation of swim practice.....that wasn't. Yesterday was meet day at a program 45 minutes away. I called the coach, got directions, got the boys changed, hopped in the car, and headed west.
When we got there, Nic proceeded to give us a full-bore nuclear meltdown over the buzzer. Which lasted a half hour. Which he owes me for for the next week. Anyway, a kind man gave Nic a pair of headphones to block out the sound, dad arrived with lunch, and he went on to win two races (and messed up the third because he was too busy fussing with the headset to hear the starter).
On the way home, we found a park that I wanted to hike for a long time--and de-stressed the way I like to de-stress best. And the kids liked it, too.
Nic runs his first track meet today. All I ask is that he do his best, have fun, and stay in his lane. He promises that he will do all three.
Here's the thing. He knows he doesn't really fit in with the Special Olympics. He doesn't really fit in with the track team (and I wonder if the coach is wondering why I don't bug the SO track people--and do I really want to go there? NO.) So we straddle our shadow world, not necessarily being this OR that, but I feel less life-or-death about activities working out or not.
And I take it a lot less personally when things don't work out.
Probably the biggest take-away from yesterday was that my kids are amazingly flexible--we did a lot on the fly that worked out almost in spite of me. And I guess I am more flexible in that it was really easy for me (for once) to see what I need to engage in and what I need to walk away from.
Speaking of engaging in and/or walking away, I made some really good choices this week. For me. I'm wondering how much the kids saw, or even if they noticed.
The thing is, my kids notice everything. Whether I want them to or not.
All I can do is keep listening, keep heeding that inner voice....
...and keep moving forward.
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