Letting Go

 "A mother holds her childrens' hands for a while, but their hearts forever." 

     Um, in regards to the whole "hand holding for a while" meaning a short time, apparently not me and not if we're at the pool.  Sorry, but I didn't get that memo.  And especially if one of those children is not even two-years old and is already a self-proclaimed "Evil Kenevil".  I thought I was a hovering momma at the playground, well, you ain't seen nothing if we're at the pool.  I actually had a man laugh at me because I couldn't let go of my son at one point, although Li'l B was pushing me away and saying, "Let go, mommy!", but we'll get to that in a moment. 

     The kiddies wanted to go to our local YMCA to go swimming, and my hubby and I thought that this was an excellent way to wear them out before naps, er, I mean a very good family outing, making special memories and all that.  We get there, get everyone stripped down to their bathing suits in the family changing room and proceed to the pool.  Miss G of course runs into the shallow end and by shallow, I mean to her knees..  (I know this child will not do anything that would make her head or hair even touch the water, so I watch her while trying to hold Li'l B's hand to guide him slowly into the water.  He is not even two, so his balance is not that of a trapeze walker.  Naturally, or should I say, instinctively, he says, "No, mommy," as he pushes my hand away.  Lately, I've become so accustomed to this gesture that the tears have finally ceased to exist.  I say, "Okay," and put my hands up in front of me in a "I surrender" gesture and he proceeds to walk out into the water.  Now, my hubby has been taking him for swim lessons, or them just playing in the water, for a little while now while I watch our daughter at ballet class, so he is in the know of what Li'l B is capable of handling, aquatics-wise.  I am still right behind Li'l B in case he falls.  My stomach at this point has moved to my throat with every little misstep.  I look over at my hubby and say, "Maybe we should get him one of the life jackets to wear, you know, in case he slips or something."  My husband laughs and says, "Seriously?  The water is to his shins, he's fine.  We do this all the time in his lessons.  You need to calm down a little bit."  He was lucky that all he got was a glare for that. 

     We proceed to where it is a little deeper, making our way to a water playground where they can slide, play under the shooting water, etc.  *Stomach still in throat as the water has now gone over his trunks* He's on a mission though, sure to get out to the stairs that lead up to a *gulp* water slide.  This water slide is not very extravagant, but to a mommy of a little guy, it looks like something at an actual water park.  Li'l B proceeds to climb the stairs, me right beside him, fighting with him to hold my hand.  Naturally, he refuses.  And, I'm the only parent going up with her small child.  I really couldn't have given two flying, well, you know how that phrase turns out.  Anywho, he makes it to the top only to then be overtaken by the stage fright.  *Mommy exhales and does a happy dance internally*  Then his father at the bottom yells, "Come on, bud!  You can do it!"  Again, he got a glare.  So Li'l B decides, "Yes, I'm going to do this."  He sits down and I'm holding onto his arm.  He says, "Let go, mommy."  And I reply, "Honey, mommy can't."  This kid literally went down almost half the slide with me clinging to his arm until he got to a point where I couldn't reach without going down the slide with him....and I let go.  I think my heart stopped while watching him slide down by himself, imagining him toppling backwards and the water that pools at the bottom covering him like a blanket, him not knowing how to hold his breath underwater...I have an overactive imagination as if you couldn't tell by now.  Instead, he sat the whole way down, squealing, his daddy catching him at the bottom, and he turned to me and yelled proudly, "Mommy!! Again!"  *Stomach, back up  into my throat.*

     See, as parents, we always see our children as babies, helpless without us, not knowing what to do in life without our guidance or protection.  (And mine are only toddlers, this is magnified I'm sure for those with older children.)  "They need me, I must protect them, what if they get hurt, what if they don't know what to do?"  I guarantee all these question cross my mind daily, and yes, sometimes I think, "Maybe extremely nervous Nellie's are not meant to have children, some days, it's torture!"  But I have to realize that if I hover over them and make their decisions or hold them back from exploring, they're not going to experience beautiful things in life.  Yes, they may even fall *gasp* and get hurt, but that's also an experience and a learning opportunity that they must go through.  I can protect them for so long, but I must stop overprotecting.  And for the record, mom or dad, if you're reading this, I totally get what you went through now, and I have nothing but the up most love and respect for you.  (Quit grinning.) 

     My favorite part of today was when I let go.  Because the utter joy and excitement that I saw flash across my little man's face, well, you couldn't have put a price on it.  He was so proud. And if I had held on, it never would have been. 
    

The Toddler and the Tough Stuff

     How do you describe to a toddler just how unfair life can be?  What words would you choose to use?  What tone of voice?  One big question I face, and I'm sure other parents/caregivers do also is, do I really want them to know right now?  Won't they learn soon enough, and when do we subject them to the wicked ways of life; that sadly not everyday is filled with sunshine and lollipops?  Should I prepare my toddlers before they start school or go over it with them the night before?  *Insert scream here* In their minds, everything is right and fair in their little worlds, and I must admit, I'm jealous of their naivety.  I am aware of children out there affected by disease and my heart aches for them and their families, to have to go through that hell but also have to come up with words and an explanation for a child that does not understand what is happening to them or more importantly, why. This can go for any "unpleasant" circumstances in life, really.  My daughter, by asking a simple question about her pop-pop (who was diagnosed with ALS in 2005), diverted me from "what will I say", to "what do I say".  I was not prepared for her statement that she made to me, and in a quick instant, I had to decide what to do about my toddler, and the tough stuff. (I will admit now that, at the end of our discussion, I was smiling and laughing and filled with the most peaceful feeling, which I haven't felt in a long time when discussing my dad's illness to anyone.)  Put a check in the "Win" column...this time. 

     As we traveled back from the store, my daughter told me out of the blue, "Mommy, I can't wait for when pop-pop is not in his wheelchair anymore."  I was actually shocked by her exclamation and slowly responded, "Oh, honey, pop-pop will always be in a wheelchair."  She asked me why and I thought very hard about how to describe his illness to a 3-year old.  She tries so hard to understand, but I know she can't grasp it, heck, sometimes I don't even grasp it.  She said, "I wish he could fly a kite with me like my other pop-pop and build snowmen and go sledding and go swimming.  Will he be able to when he's not sick anymore?"  This is when I had to take a moment to regain my composure, and also think of what to say to her.  So, instead of talking about the "right now" or the "what may happen", I decided to tell her all about how pop-pop used to be. 

     I started off by telling her that pop-pop used to lift mommy and mommy's brothers real high as we hung from his arms.  To this she said, "Mommy, pop-pop is so strong!"  I smiled and said, "Yes, honey, he is."  Then I told her how pop-pop used to go swimming with mommy and how he dove off of the high dive, barely making a splash when he entered the water.  She said, "So he put his face in the water? I can't do that."  I laughed and answered, "Yes, and he would swim under the water with his eyes open and grab mommy's legs!"  She giggled and for the first time I heard her say, "I want to learn to swim underwater."  I smiled and proceeded to tell her that pop-pop was mommy's soccer coach and how we would go down to our local park and he would practice with me so I could get better.  She of course said, "I want to play soccer like you, mommy!"  (I swelled with pride at that a little.) I told her how pop-pop used to water ski, (which she didn't understand), how we went camping, how pop-pop rode his bike all the time, and how he made mommy laugh a lot.  She was quiet for a while and I wondered if what I had said made any sense to her, when she said, "I wish pop-pop could do all that with me."  At that, my tears broke free and I quickly wiped them away, knowing that he wished he could too. And then she started talking about something totally unrelated, Strawberry Shortcake or something, and I knew her inquisition was over. 

     The thing is, toddlers do not understand the injustice or evil happening in our world, and why would they?  They are the essence of purity and goodness.  So, I decided that instead of trying to explain a situation to her that is negative, I would take her back to when things were good and pure in my eyes.  She will no doubt, no matter how hard I attempt to reflect it, experience pain and hurt and see just how cruel life can be.  But not today, or as long as I can prevent it.  Today, she will hear of happiness and goodness.  And I will be the same way with my son.  I want them to promote peace and understanding throughout their lives, and although they will see or be affected by things in this world that they shouldn't have to, I want them to take in the knowledge that they do not have to give in to the unpleasantness; but they can be aware of it, yet decide to see the positive and be the positive, whether it be looking ahead, or in some cases, glancing back.

                                                      Miss G with her Pop-pop  June 2010




    

    

    

Down to One Fish

     It's funny, when you have two children, four, or eight, when one goes to stay with Grandma and Grandpa (or anyone really), it feels like you've suddenly been given a vacation.  You are down one child, time to par-tay!  It doesn't seem like anything should change because you still have the remaining, or in my case the one, to deal with, but it certainly does change your days.  One less kiddy to strap into their car seat, one less kiddy to take out of their car seat, one less to haul into the grocery store, one less to chase in the store, one less to argue with, well, you get the drift.  Don't get me wrong, I miss my absent child terribly when they are not with me, but I love that I can give the existing child more attention that they've been sharing with their sibling.  (And, of course, errands are a tad quicker. Score!)  The negative- it also makes you realize just how much you can actually get done around the house when the younger child has the older one to play with.  And if that child is removed from the equation, all that's left is you. Oh, no. *slowly removes party hat*

     My daughter has gone to stay with her Memaw and Pop-pop for the week so that leaves just me and her little brother, getting to have one-on-one time to throw (or "frow" in Li'l B's terms) his basketball back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, honestly this could go on all night, and no, I am not exaggerating.  It gives us extra time to play cars and bang on instruments and play cars and chase each other around the house and play cars and shoot his basketball and play cars and wrestle which is really him just choking me...did I mention play cars?  Good, I thought maybe I forgot that activity.  It also gives me a chance to realize just how much I depend on his big sister to help me out.  She is a fellow kiddy so she has relatively the same amount of energy as he does.  I am an adult.  I do not possess this much energy anymore.  After a few activities I'm ready for a break, whereas he is rip-roaring to go and get into something else.  I think his new favorite game to play with me is, "Mommy, wake up!"  This little bugger won't even let me rest my eyes for crying out loud!  And try to sneak into the kitchen to make dinner?  Ha!  Forget that, Jack.  He comes running in yelling, "Mommy, where are you?! Play!" And off he runs back into the living room expecting me to follow. 

      Our daughter has become such the helper with her little brother and I realize this even more when she's not around.  I will tell her, "Now, mommy needs to call *insert who I need to call* and I need it to be quiet, can you play blocks with your brother?"  And she does.  I'll even hear her trying to quiet him down if he squeals or yells, telling him, "Brover, shhh, mommy is on the phone so we need to be quiet."  This just truly amazes me to no end.  So when she's gone and I try to make a phone call, my son is staring at me, screaming "Mommy" over and over to the point where I hang up before anyone answers.  And Heaven help me if they already have and I have to apologize repeatedly. So. Embarrassing. 

     Now this all may be very different for those who have more than two children so when one is gone, you are still left with playmates for the remaining kiddos.  This is when I wish we had stuck with our plan of having three, but after two, I threw in the towel. (But that's for a different blog.)  On days where I am my son's sole companion, I could kick myself at times.  Hard.  Oh wait, he does that for me.  He's such a sweetheart. So this week, I get to spend some quality time with my little man, the house gets to be neglected, the bills will be paid at night after he is in bed, we will pretend that there are no such things as phones and we will play.  We will run.  We will throw the ball back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. Now, I feel like I'm forgetting something. Oh yes, we will play cars, multiplied by 1000.  And you know what?  I will most certainly enjoy every minute of it.  Until I get to pass out onto our bed from exhaustion.  Well, bring it on little man. Bring. It. On.

Wait, how many days until Miss G comes home?!