The See Saw of Parenting

“No.  I am sorry but we can’t turn around and go back to get your teddy bear.  You were holding it when we got into the car? What happened to it?  I will be late for work if we go back”, I said firmly to Gary. He knew there was no changing my mind.   He made a few sorrowful sounds and emitted a few sighs but he seemed resigned to going to preschool without his teddy bear for share day. 

As we drove to preschool I kept going over in my mind the justification for not returning to the house.   I carried on a conversation with myself in my head, “It would take at least  an extra 20 minutes to go back to the house and pick up the teddy bear.  I had a meeting at work at 7:30 a.m.  Traffic would be lighter but still I couldn’t do all of that,  drop Gary off at school and make it to the office in time for the meeting. It would be good lesson for Gary to learn.”

“Isn’t  there something else you can share?  Can you take your share turn tomorrow instead of today?” I asked.  Gary was silent.  Gary gave me a rather sorrowful and somewhat angry look as I dropped him off at preschool.  I raced backed to the car hoping traffic would be light so I would not be late for the meeting.

“You seem a bit frazzled this morning”, one of my co-workers said to me as I raced past her desk on my way to the meeting. “It wasn’t a good morning.  Gary was upset that I wouldn’t go back to the house to get his teddy bear.  He needed it today for share day”, I replied.   “Wow I can’t believe you were so tough on a 3 year old”, she responded.  Well, my then  cynical self replied, “Life is full of disappointment. He may as well get used to it.”  I felt guilty the entire day that I did not go back and get the teddy bear for Gary.

Parenting is a constant balancing act.  We struggle to balance love and discipline every day.  We struggle to balance the demands of work and parenting.  Sometimes we strike the balance and other times we fail miserably.  It is a daily challenge.  I would remind myself on days that I had failed miserably that I had succeeded on other days and that the most important thing was to let my children know that I love them.

Parenting reminds me of a see saw.  One day I feel like I have conquered it all and I’m riding high like I am on the top end of the see saw.  The next day I feel like I have failed miserably, I'm depressed and I am at the bottom of the see saw - on the ground.  Other days I feel serene like I am balanced on the see saw.   It can change daily, hourly and even moment by moment. It is a wild ride.

“I’m sorry I could not go back and get your teddy bear this morning, Gary”, I said to him that evening.  “I love you,” I said. Gary came over and gave me a big hug.  He has always been a very loving and forgiving person.  I’m a lucky Mom.

Q: Do you sometimes feel as if you are on a see saw when it comes to parenting?

Raising Children the Best We Can (Part Four)

“What do you mean you can’t count money,” I said to Jessica.  “It is simple. Here is how you do it,” I impatiently said in a raised voice.   A five minute, hostile demonstration ensued after which I left to clean up the kitchen after dinner.   Jessica struggled with that issue and others for quite a while. She didn’t ask me again for any help with her homework.   Of course my message to Jessica was that she was stupid even though I don’t think I ever  said that word.  

“If you don’t leave us alone I am going to disappear in the night and you will never ever see the children again!”  I told David.   I thought for sure he would have given up and gone away by now.  It had been over 11 months since I filed for divorce.  During those eleven months, David punched and hit me in front of the children.  He called me at all hours of the day and night and threatened me with further violence.   David regularly threatened to kill me in front of Jessica.    I was absolutely desperate.  I thought about this for months before I said it to David.   I spend a good bit of time thinking about what state I would go to and how I would change my name so he couldn’t find us.    It had no effect on David.  Maybe he didn’t believe me.   Maybe it was just a fantasy but I don’t think so. 

 “Frank can you please speak to your brother and get him to leave us alone?”  I said into the phone.   I don’t know how I had the courage to call him but I sensed that Frank would believe me when I told him what was happening.  I hadn’t spoken to Frank or anyone in David’s family since a few months before I filed for divorce.  Frank was the one and only person David looked up to.   Why hadn’t I asked for his help earlier?  Was I was embarrassed or ashamed?  I wasn’t the one acting like a maniac. Frank was, as usual, gracious and kind.   Shortly after that conversation David moved back to his home state.  

The court eventually entered an order for child support.   David simply ignored the court order.  He never paid any child support.  I wasn’t surprised and really didn’t much care.  All I ever wanted from David was for him to leave us alone.  I sensed that if I tried to enforce the child support order David would come back into our lives.  The money was not worth it.  Years later when I tried to collect some child support that is exactly what happened.  I abandoned my claim forever. 

 “Samuel has been missing on his bike for several hours,” the after school babysitter told me over the phone.   He was 5 years old at the time.  I left the office in a panic and drove around our neighborhood.  I found Samuel riding his bike with some older boys in the desert.   This wasn’t the first or last time I would received that phone call

 “Mrs. Smith this is Dr.  Howard.  I am the school psychologist at Remington Elementary School.   We tested Samuel in preparation for kindergarten.   He has a learning disability and we recommend he be placed in a special education class for a year before matriculating to the regular kindergarten class.”    I left the office in tears and drove home.

“M’am this is the police department.  We have you son Samuel here at the convenience store.  He and some other boys tried to steal some chewing gum.”  Samuel was seven years old at the time.

“I quit,” the babysitter told me as soon as I walked in the door.  “Samuel is impossible. He doesn’t follow any rules. He is impossible to control.  He does what he wants when he wants.  He took off on his bike again today and was gone for 3 hours.  I was afraid to call you again,” she said in exasperation.    I couldn’t argue with her because it was all so true.  This was the third sitter that had quit in about 4 months.  As if finding them was not difficult enough – keeping them was even harder.   I hoped she would agree to stay until I could find someone else.

“Samuel pack a suitcase and get in the car.  You have to find someplace else to live,”   I said.  “Where are you going?” Jessica asked Samuel.  “Mom is giving me away, “Samuel replied very matter of factly.   After we got in the car I started to drive around our neighborhood.  “Samuel you have to find another place to live unless you can agree to follow the rules,” I said sternly.  He was about seven years old. “Will you follow the rules?”  I asked.  Samuel was silent.  I stopped the car. This kid is going to call my bluff I remember thinking to myself.  He is the most stubborn kid on the planet. 

“Get out and go knock on one of these doors and ask if you can live there,”   I said. Samuel didn’t move.    “Do you want to come home and follow the rules?”  I asked hopefully.  Again Samuel was silent.  He got out of the car and stood at the corner holding his little suitcase. My heart sank.  It was getting dark.  “Have you changed your mind?”  I asked Samuel.  He was silent. “OK I am leaving now,” I said.   I drove away and around the block.  My heart was racing. What was I going to do?   I waited what seemed like an eternity and then I drove back to where I had left him.  He was standing in the exact same spot on the corner still clutching his little suitcase.  I opened the passenger door.  “Do you want to come home and follow the rules?” I asked. Samuel nodded his head, “yes”.    He got into the car.  Samuel’s behavior improved somewhat after that. At least I was able to keep a babysitter for longer than a month or two. It was an abominable thing to do but I was desperate.  I couldn’t work unless I had a babysitter. I couldn’t keep a babysitter unless Samuel behaved.  Samuel’s refusal to follow even the most basic rules could result in him getting hurt or worse.

Q: Under trying circumstances the balance between discipline and abuse sometimes can be hard to discern.   It is easy to look back when life becomes easier and berate yourself but I think perhaps we did the best we could under the circumstances.  There are things I did as a parent I am so ashamed of but hopefully I am learning to forgive myself.  Have you had similar experiences and feelings?

Marriage and sometimes even a love story (Part Six)

“You don’t need to do that,” Nancy, Brian’s sister said to the young respiratory technician.  She had just placed an oxygen mask over their Father’s mouth to start some treatment.   We were all standing in the hospital room around their Father’s bed, Brian, me, Nancy and her husband, Bob.  The last year had been a roller coaster of ups and downs regarding his health.  Brian was very close to his Father.    “He’s dying,” Nancy continued.  The poor young girl looked like a fawn that had just looked into the headlights of an oncoming car.  She took her machine and slithered out of the room.  “How could Nancy know that?” I asked myself. 

A moment or so later I heard a gruesome sound.  It reminded me of the sound I have heard mortally wounded animals make in TV documentaries.  It was emanating from Brian.  He was face down on the bed next to his Father’s lifeless body.  I wanted to go over and comfort Brian but I couldn’t seem to move.   That sound went on for what seemed like an eternity.   After a few minutes Brian pulled himself together.   He and Nancy went out into the hall where they made arrangements for the body.   Our wedding was to take place in less than two weeks but for now we had to plan a funeral. 

Brian and I didn’t talk on the ride home from the hospital.  I so wanted to comfort him at least one part of me did.  I had come into this relationship as a strong, independent single mother of three children who was competing in a very intense business environment.  I had just recently learned to be tough.  Instinctively I was afraid of getting sucked into the traditional female role.  Sadly I thought it would demean me.   I did not yet know how to be tough and tender.

 I felt terrible for a long time that I had failed Brian because I didn’t hug him or make any overt act to comfort him.  Emotions were very scary to me back then.  I couldn’t let my guard down.  I literally felt paralyzed from reaching out to Brian.  If only I had some time and energy to really think about all of this back then!  It might have spared Brian and I a lot of agony.

Women instinctively know how to do that stuff except for me or so I thought.  I berated myself.   I wasn’t a good wife or mother because I lacked that gene.  I wondered if I was born that way or whether the demands of the workplace and life eradicated that part of me.  I always felt inadequate especially back then so I just added this to my list of inadequacies. 

Q: Do you struggle, as I have, with the nature of the role we are supposed to play or the qualities we are supposed to possess as a wife or partner?  ( It has certainly evolved and changed dramatically since the 50s and 60s.)

Grief (Part Two)

 I wasn’t in this room at the moment Brian died.  But still I was with him at the moment of his death.   I was attending the performance of Swan Lake by the Russian ballet. It was my first outing without Brian or the children in several years. I felt so guilty about going that I almost cancelled my plans. It was during the Dance of the Swans that Brian died.   Strange how I knew that.  As I raised myself up from the floor I felt the same peace I had experienced during that dance.  I had been transfixed during that dance. I have never experienced anything like it before or since.  It was as if the ballerinas were angels floating up to heaven. My thoughts now turned to the children.  I must tell them.  

Q: Have you had a similar experience where you sensed something was true or had happened before actually becoming aware of it?

Measure of Success?

A few of my son’s friends and acquaintances from college dropped by over the holidays – a couple of guys and a lone girl. They were in route to a concert. They stayed only a few minutes but I could see it in her eyes.   It gave rise to that sadly familiar feeling that I have been battling since I moved here four years ago.    My daughter moved here first. She and her husband were just starting out and they bought a house in a subdivision that is a great location physically but not highly regarded by the inhabitants of this city.   When I moved here to be near them I thought how silly to buy a house some 20 or 30 minutes away.  When two people are working and lead very busy lives 20 or 30 minutes can be the same as a couple of hours and result in fewer visits.  So I bought a house in the same subdivision as my daughter.  I am immensely happy with my choice until I let other peoples’ attitudes enter my world. “Where do you live”, I asked my son’s acquaintance, thinking she lived in another city.  She proceeded to tell me she lived in one of the most exclusive areas of this city.  She tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her feelings of disdain for where we live.  Maybe I was imaging it but I don’t think so.  She was definitely uncomfortable and maybe a bit contemptuous of where we live.  And I am sad to say so am I sometimes.

I so don’t want to measure success by how much money I earn, where I live, the vacations I take, how busy I am, how much I accomplish in any given day, the clothes I wear and on and on.  I battle those demons quite well for certain periods of time.  But inexorably I get drawn back to that material measure of success.   I am so disappointed in myself when I feel embarrassed by where I live and the choices I have made.   I worry that my son notices both his friend’s and my attitudes.

You see,  I strive to measure my success(if it needs measuring at all) by the quality of my relationships and connections to my family, friends and the community, by the time I spend doing for others and by my conduct that I hope reflects my spiritual beliefs.   Why is that so difficult to do?  The obvious answer is that we live in a materialistic world where you are valued and judged by the money you earn, the size of your bank account, your network of business connections, where you live, the car you drive and on and on.  A definitive measuring stick is already in place vis a vis these icons of success.  In contrast, the “successes” I strive for are rather intangible, difficult to measure and certainly are not highly valued or regarded in the world we inhabit. 

My four children and I moved to this city together some four years ago. We live in the same neighborhood.  We see each other at least weekly but usually much more often.  I passed up several lucrative job opportunities to pursue what I wanted to do and how I wanted to live.  When I tell acquaintances all or some of this they look at me askance.   My sense is that they think I am strange or weird.  I definitely feel like an outsider in mainstream America.

I am disappointed in myself when I allow this young girl’s looks of derision to take me down the path of regret for the choices I have made and the life I lead.  I chastised myself for a time for not being more mainstream. Then I revisited the huge positives in my life and the regrets were dispelled.

I am waiting for and working toward the day when I am totally comfortable with the way I measure success.  I am making progress. This time I was able to excoriate the feeling of failure much more quickly than in the past.   It would be great if the world would set a different standard of success but, sadly, I am not waiting for that to happen.   I seem to be out of step with the world a good bit and that can be a lonely feeling.   Still I will continue on with my chosen life path recognizing that one of my faults is that I look too much for validation from others. I’m working on that too!


Q: How do you measure success?  Does your life really reflect what you value and how you measure success?