I hate it when I can't sleep. Even more so when it's because I'm rolling something around in my head, something I can't control. I'm a planner and when plans change, I have trouble letting the picture form by itself rather than painting it with the strokes I expected. My ex-husband can tell you this. I get a little "worked up" when plans change... I need a little time to deal with it. I usually roll right along with the punches, it just takes me a bit to get to the "rolling" point. My mom seems to think I'm easy going and always ready to fly by the seat of my pants and be spontaneous. Little does she know it's a struggle for me... or maybe she knows but wants to encourage me with positive reinforcement.
The past few days have had me struggling as a parent with what it means to "let my kids be themselves". People who see my posts may think it's a slam on those parents who tsk tsk'd Lizzy's "unicorn hair" again, or an indirect slap at maybe something Mike and I disagreed on (nope), or an indirect shot at parenting choices that differ from my own. Or they think it's something huge and monumental and it's not... so why have I been up since 4:58? The past few days don't contain anything monumental, yet here I am not sleeping.
You see the past few days have seen William struggle with a genius project he had to turn in, observing Lizzy and the "bubble" she walks in at school and then the two things that hit me the hardest... William saying he thinks he's going to give up baseball and Lizzy saying she doesn't want to do swim class.
Gasp!! Oh no! I know, I know, it seems small... so why has it hit me so hard? Why have the past few days combined with those damn FB memories (apparently 3 and 4 years ago I posted a lot about learning to be me and letting my kids be who they are and letting my kids be KIDS, not little adults) hit me like a ton of bricks?
I'll admit the baseball thing hit me hardest. When he said it, I talked to him about why. About if he really LOVES baseball, is he letting the political bullshit that knocked him down last year and now the changes in his new league talk him out of what he loves? I asked him if he had intended on playing at least through high school. His reply of "I really don't know" started with the words "I'm sorry mom..." and maybe that's when my struggle began. Why is he APOLOGIZING to me? When I thought I was just going over the various angles and choices and doubts and reasons with him, was I actually trying to TALK him into staying? Did he think I was disappointed in him? I'm not, I just don't want him to walk away from something he has loved and pursued since he was TWO YEARS OLD, because of some crap that doesn't belong in kids sports, but is there anyway. I don't want him walking away from something he is actually rather skilled at and has potential to grow in because of one disappointing occurrence. But I don't want him playing FOR ME. That's not okay.
So, his apology made me stop. I don't believe in choosing my kids path for them. I'm not that parent who will decide that my child WILL play a particular sport or do a particular activity or join a particular organization. That's just not me. I believe (and you may disagree) that it teaches kids not to trust their own judgement. That their likes and opinions don't matter. I will choose whether or not they can say, hang glide, or what time they go to bed or what chores they share in... I will not choose their path. I will not do their homework for them or tell them how their art should look. I (begrudgingly) will not decide their hairstyles or fashion (besides, isn't it a right of passage to hate your kids hair and clothes? my mother told me I looked like I was always headed for a funeral, but still let me choose it). Yes, I secretly bemoaned the end of William's mohawk while celebrating the fact that at least now when he decides to not do his hair, it doesn't look like a dead squirrel landed there. Yes, Lizzy's fashion choices are sometimes "colorful", but the only thing I put my foot down about was the "anime schoolgirl" look because there is a whole sexual connotation there that is NOT happening when she's 8. Or under my roof. Short plaid skirts and thigh high socks aren't happening here kids. But otherwise, I try to let them fly.
My mother was the strictest parent out there when I was tiny, but as I grew, she TRUSTED me with larger boundaries and choices. She became the least strict parent I know and the most trusting, open one. That trust earned us the amazing relationship we have today. I'm not saying that's the only way to parent, but it worked for us. And I respect her more than anyone and intend on parenting the same way.
You see, by the time other parents were cracking down and freaking out about (now remember this was the 80's, don't laugh)... multiple piercings, spiked purple mohawks, curfews, if there was alcohol at a party, who their kids hung out with, talking about drugs and sex... I was making my own choices. Mom had already been DEAD HONEST with me about the consequences, about what she regretted, about really considering what I was doing... but she let me fly. She did. She made it clear that my fuckups were mine. She WOULD NOT be bailing me out of jail if I drank underage. She WOULD NOT be letting me just cruise along if I decided drugs were for me... my ass would be out of that house. And that trust caused me to REALLY consider my steps. There was alcohol at parties...and I didn't drink it. Didn't drink until I was 21. There were kids skipping school and doing some crazy shit. I would NOT. Because her trust in me meant so much and because disappointing her was bigger to me than being "in trouble". And disappointing her is not in the sense that I didn't make the choice she would have or that she secretly wished I would make... I mean disappointing her because I didn't make my choices with careful consideration. Mom was fine with me messing up, making my own regrets, bruising my own knees. What she WASN'T okay with was us making a choice without thinking or taking responsibility for the consequences. She was most decidedly NOT into what the others think of us, what's "normal" or trendy... she was trying to teach us to THINK FOR OURSELVES.
So William's apology made me wonder... am I pushing him? Yes, I was there when toddler climbed to the top of a hill, watched baseball, went to the stadium with me and watched HOURS of baseball saying "I'm going to play there one day mom.". Yes, I've been there through T-ball and extra classes. Through Rookie Minor and Major and his climbing his way up to 5th in the batting order on the championship AA team. Yes, I watched him switch leagues last year and play for a coach he wishes he could play for for the rest of his life and with boys he wishes he could always play with. And yes I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE baseball. And I love watching HIM play baseball. So was I pushing him when I said, "well... sleep on the decision. maybe try out for both leagues and see what happens. do you not LOVE baseball like you've said" because the idea of no longer watching him and writing to my family about his big hits or amazing catches was not about him but ME? Was I trying to sway him?
Yes, I am worried he'll regret giving it up and get to high school and still want to play. Yes, I'm strangely crushed by the idea of not watching him play at all. But it shouldn't be about me. He's in middle school. The time when my mom's trust really began to open up. So here I am riding this fine line between making sure that whatever choice he makes, he just does it with THOUGHT and not because I'm guilting him into something. Which I don't believe in. At all. I had my chances, this is his life to live. So I'm just trying to ride that line and let him make his choice without his having to consider what I want. Because it's not about me.
And then Lizzy, when I asked about swim said, "I don't think so mom". And I was again crushed. She has struggled so much since she was tiny. Physically she is behind her peers due to her Sensory Processing disorder. The pool was the one place she excelled and relaxed. That girl can swim for HOURS. She's fearless. And to watch her conquer something, when everything else has been so hard, was monumental. And so I said, "are you sure? shall I just sign us up for a membership so we can swim together for fun? you sure you don't want to try the pre-competitive class just to see if you'd like learning starts and turns and strokes". And then I wondered if I was truly letting her choose again. Or was I pushing because as a mom who watched the fits in gymnastics and the freak outs in soccer and the struggles in occupational therapy, I love being the mom watching her glide in a pool. So I ride the line between laying out options and pushing. But if I force it, she'll hate it anyway. So I don't want to force or guilt her into what I want.
I similarly had to back off at school about maybe approaching a certain girl at lunch or inviting particular girls over when she said to me "I'm usually alone". I have to remember Lizzy is NOT me. I can't choose her path and I can't MAKE her be social. And I certainly shouldn't choose her friends. Like Jason said, "friendship, like a marriage, has to be organic". You can't make kids be friends anymore than you can make two people who don't fit have a good marriage. Heck I mostly ate alone at 8 years old. I didn't belong to any organized team or activity. Why am I so worried about Lizzy? It makes me crazy watching her in her own bubble because kids DO approach her and talk to her... she just doesn't hear and doesn't respond. And sometimes she doesn't care. But sometimes she does. And I learned LATER in life that that bubble was what made people think I was unfriendly or snobby or bitchy or stuck up... when I truly was just shy, not socially adept and not overly concerned about being like everyone else. But how do I share that with her without making her think she HAS to be more open. How do I help her learn that if she wants friends that bubble has to pop from time to time, but that I'm not FORCING her to want more friends? That's the line I'm riding.
The other stuff, making sure when I help William with a project or the kids with homework without doing it for them and letting them learn... that is a bit easier. A bit. And as most people know, I can give a rip about their music or clothes or hair. As long as they are kind, thoughtful, mannered kids who give school and life their all, they can do it in an ugly Christmas sweater and plaid pants with mismatched socks and a green mohawk. William can paint his nails and if Lizzy ever wanted to double pierce her ears, I'd be holding her hands. That shit for me is easy.
It's watching them grow old enough to weigh issues like giving up something they've pursued since they were tiny, or giving up something they have natural talent in. It's watching them grow old enough to see that friendships change and sometimes you have to choose to walk away from people. It's watching them learn that I may not care about their appearance, and THEY may not care what is trendy or normal.. BUT they will have to put up with commentary from others if their look doesn't "fit in". It's watching them learn that no matter how badly they want something, they may not be able to achieve it... because while someone is always worse, someone is also always BETTER.
That's when I find myself struggling to really let them be themselves, really spread their own wings, really fall ALL ON THEIR OWN and clean up their own messes and wipe up their own scrapes.
I guess I'm still learning to fly too. Still learning to tune out the voices of others and opinions of others.
We can spread our wings together... I just can't fly for them.
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