Honey, sometimes shit is hard

I’m not trying to be all dramatic or anything, I just find myself saying that to The Boy a lot these days.

“Honey, sometimes shit is hard.”

Yep. Just like that.

Because it is.

And when he’s crying because his knee hurts, and I’m telling him he needs to make it up the hill so we can catch our bus–when I really want to bike all the way home–what else can I say other than, that sometimes shit is hard?

I also tell him that these challenges don’t have to be so hard. That it’s all in your perception. You can push through the pain to get where you need to go. Just a little bit further. You can do it. I’m proud of you for being so tough. These challenges prepare you to handle for life and the bigger challenges that will inevitably greet you one day.

And sometimes I feel bad because we only have so much time for stalling before I start to get really conscious of the time ticking away and the possibility of missing my bus seems to loom.

“We don’t have time for this,” I snap. “I have a bus to catch and we need to get where we’re going.”

And he’s all, “But my helmet and my knee and ouch my toe…”

And sometimes I lose my patience.

Because, so the fuck what it’s hard. You know what? It really ain’t that hard. I’ve been through harder. Your knee hurts, well so does mine. Almost always. You’re tired from playing all day? Well I was working all day and had to ride the 8 miles from work to the Boys & Girls club because the bus bike rack was full. It was a brutal ride and we have 4 more to go.

I don’t want to hear about your pain, I have my own I’m trying to work through.

But I’m the parent, so its selfish for me to talk about my pain, when he’s talking about his. I’m supposed to keep that to myself and let him believe that the rides are only challenging for him. I’m supermom and can handle it all.

But that load gets heavy and on some level I want him to understand that the shit isn’t easy for me either. I enjoy commuting by bike most of the time, yes. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t also challenging. It doesn’t mean there aren’t days that I wish I had a car, so I wouldn’t have to worry about missing the bus and always being prepared to get on my bike and push myself the distance to get to him on time; before the Boys & Girl’s club closes.

So I tell him, straight up, that it’s not easy. Life isn’t easy. We gotta do, what we gotta do. And sometimes, to get things done, you just gotta grit your teeth, and keep it pushing.

Tags: bicycle commuting, keeping it real, life challenges, Shit Happens

Free-Range victory: The boy gets to bike to school!

Earlier this week I took the boy to pick up his new bike. The next day we rode to the school together. He was so excited. It was like a new level of cool. I could tell other kids were a little jealous and even the school cook yelled out “Cool bike!”

I provided him with a note granting my permission to ride his bike to school, to which the school responded that it was against the district policy to allow kids in his grade to ride to school on a bike.

I was pissed* because they hadn’t even asked any questions (even though I specifically invited them to call me if they had any and included two numbers). I immediately left a message for the principal wasn’t really sure what to do. First thing I needed to do was find that policy. If it wasn’t on the books and publicly available, they really wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. I also emailed Free-Range kids, to get some other ideas from the free-range community before I had my next conversation with a school admin. There were a bunch of great suggestions, most of which echoed the do your homework, contact the board, do it anyway and find somewhere to lock the bike off campus. (Thanks Free-Range Kids!)

Then I started to think about whether or not it was really worth the fight. Was it something we really needed or was it just me fighting the system (I have a tendency to want to make my own rules). I decided this was something the boy and I needed for a few reasons:

1. I don’t have a car
2. I use a combination of bike/bus as transportation
3. I would be riding with him
4. The after-school getting home from the after school program takes longer by bus, than by bike

You see, beyond my objections as a free-range parent, I had some good reasons to fight this policy. So I sent an email to the school board and the superintendent explaining my situation and asking that they be willing to consider my case. I kept digging around for the policy and couldn’t find it. I also sent him to school with the bike the following day. If there was no policy, they couldn’t really say no. Before I left work, I put in a call to the school board office. Bureaucrats have a tendency to drag their feet, so I wanted to speak to someone as quickly as possible (don’t worry, I wasn’t all panicked on the phone, I just wanted to talk to a human).

As I was making my commute to work I received a call from the principal. She was sorry but this was the district policy and it was her job to enforce it. I tried to explain my situation: but I ride with him and I don’t have a car, this is how we will get home together when I’m picking him up. And I would need her to show me the policy. She had quick responses: even if I rode with him, he couldn’t lock his bike on campus and ride home by himself and even if he didn’t ride home by himself, the bike could not be locked on school property. It is the policy. If I wanted to fight it, I could go to the school board (I don’t think she really expected me to do it).

I found myself feeling sorry for her, thinking that she was just an enforcer. The principal had no real power (or so it seems) to examine individual circumstances (I think mine were compelling) and make rare exceptions on a case-by-case basis. That evening the boy handed me the policy documentation, but somehow I knew this would work in my favor.

So today, I sent him with his bike anyway. And this afternoon, I got the call that the school board agreed to my request, granted the boy obeys the rules and I ride with him in the morning.

VICTORY!

I thanked the principal for working with me and told her to have a great weekend. When I picked the boy up, he did a little victory dance. I was relieved to have successfully bended the rules and not just because I had an abstract philosophical objection. It might not work for everyone, but for me, I feel like this saved my life.

* I have to admit that I’m not in favor of quite a few school policies. I think kids have way too much homework, uniforms take away their freedom of expression (yes I let my kids pick their own clothes), NCLB is not working, teachers have no creative freedom and the public school system is meant to socialize kids into being worker bee drones. I do a lot of reprogramming and deprogramming.

Tags: bike-to-school, Education, Free-Range, making up the rules, stupid policies

A free-range scare…

Its important to me to allow the boy space to explore and go to his friend’s houses. Most of the time my allowing him a long leash works out pretty well for both of us. Unfortunately, there’s the occasional snaffu. Earlier this week, someone stole the boy’s scooter and tonight he was out well past dark and I started to worry.

Now, I wasn’t really worried someone would take him. Reading the Free-Range Kids Blog has taught me that such fear is rather irrational. But as the time ticked by and there was no sign of the boy, the irrational panic started to creep up on me anyway.

Shit, I thought, I only have two phone numbers and he at least four friends around the way. I was kind of uncomfortable about knocking on doors because, well, what if the other parents judged me for letting my kid roam around the neighborhood? Bed time was approaching at an alarming rate (probably because the boy was out WAY past dark) and I was starting to freak out. I called one friend, the one who was probably the least free-range, and of course, the boy wasn’t there because they didn’t allow visitors after 5 PM during the week. I had to try though.

As I started walking around the neighborhood, I realized that there were only two houses I knew for sure he might be. So I knocked on the other. There were two kids there who didn’t belong, neither of which was my boy. I went back home. There was no way I was just going to knock on random doors. To me, that meant panic and I was not going to panic.

I decided to walk around a little bit more trying to recognize some of the houses the boy had shown me. It was dark and I just couldn’t remember. I headed back to the house where his friends were (probably also well past curfew) to ask if they knew where the boy might be and just before I walked up to the door, I saw a little dark figure in an orange shirt across the street. So I called out.

“Um…” I said as he turned toward me. “Do you know how long it’s been dark?”

I walked up and introduced myself to the adult (and parent of the friend) standing outside with him.

“I asked him what his curfew was and he told me 9:00,” said the friend’s dad. “It sounded a little late to me, but we were about to have him call you and give him a ride home.”

I made sure to get the parent’s number and assured him that the boy was supposed to go home when it was dark. 8:30 was far too late, especially since it had been dark for more than an hour.

As the boy and I walked home, I chastised him about being out so late.

“But I was watching a movie,” he said.

“I don’t care. When are you supposed to come home?”

“When it’s dark.”

“It’s not that big a deal if you want to watch a movie and eat pizza,” I said. “But at the very least, you have to call me and let me know where you are.”

He took a bite of his pizza and acted like it wasn’t a big deal.

I stopped and made him look at me.

I explained that having the freedom to run around unsupervised was a big responsibility; one he shouldn’t take advantage of if he wanted to keep it. If he couldn’t be trusted to come home when he was supposed to come home, he’d be on lockdown indefinitely.

He raised an eyebrow at the idea of being “on lockdown.”

“That’s right,” I said. “If I can’t trust you, you can’t go anywhere.”

He hung his head and sighed. Then he looked up at me and said, “Ok, mommy. I’m sorry. I’ll be more responsible next time.”

We hugged it out and I made him go to bed early.

Tags: Free-Range, Freedom & Responsibility, Teachable Moments, Teaching Responsibility

There are assholes everywhere

A year ago I decided it was time to move. There had been two “shoot outs” in as many weeks, both of which involved my immediate neighbor. I had lived in that place for 9 years and while it wasn’t what I would consider an affluent neighborhood, it certainly wasn’t as bad as some of the neighborhoods in LA.

There were lots of kids, all of whom were pretty much given free reign to play anywhere in the complex. If any of them tried to venture out (as I’m sure some did), there were security guards at the gates to stop them.

But with two shoot outs and an impending rent increase, I decided it was time for me to go and set out to find a place between Long Beach and Irvine where I worked. I ended up finding this cute little place in Orange where there were lots of kids and families. It was a little suburban for my taste, but the school was good and my commute to work would be cut in half.

And I like the neighborhood for the most part. It’s been good so far. I had even gotten more comfortable with giving the boy a longer leash and letting him ride his scooter around, as long as he stayed away from the main road. He had made friends and knew to come in when it was dark.

Today though, things were terribly sullied.

The boy went out to ride his scooter as he often did when there was still light when we got home for the day. It was starting to get dark and I was watching the door for the boy to come bursting in. And he did…but without his scooter.

“Where’s your scooter?” I asked expecting him to tell me he had forgotten it at a friend’s house again.

“Someone took it,” he said.

“WHAT?!?” I was in shock.

“A kid just walked up and took it from me.”

“What kid? Do you know him? Have you seen him before?”

“I’ve seen him once, but I don’t know him.”

As I questioned him, the boy’s shoulders begin to slump and I could tell he was seriously hurt. Not physically mind you…but you know…someone had taken his shit right out of his hands!

“What happened?” I asked. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

He told me how he was riding past one of his friend’s houses and this kid he didn’t really recognize came up behind him, punched him and told him, “Gimme your scooter bitch.”

“I tried to chase him and get it back but he was on my scooter and I ran out of breath.”

I couldn’t believe it.

That’s the kind of story you expect to hear when you live in the hood not when you’re in what you thought was a safe suburban family cul-de-sac. I sat there in shock for a few minutes before telling him I was sorry he had to go through that.

And he broke down.

“It really, really sucks,” he sobbed. “I really liked that scooter.”

I held him close, told him I knew and assured him he would get another.

“Just like that one?”

“I can’t promise you that honey.”

“But that was my favorite scooter ever.”

“I know honey, I know.”
Fuck. There are assholes everywhere.

Tags: Assholes, Crimes, mean kids, welcome to the 'burbs

The unconditional love of children can melt away even the worst bad mood

Making plans, getting my ass in gear and guess what…today I’m at a complete loss for what to say.

It was a craptastic week. Stressing about money, ambush at work, injury from working out…I’m tired, cranky and I just want to isolate myself in my room. I want to lock the door and watch TV on the internet until I fall asleep.

Unfortunately, the boy has other ideas. He wants me to play and watch him dance and sing. He wants to sit with me and watch TV but I just want to be alone. I snapped at him a couple times because I tried to tell him politely. But really, its just me and him, so I totally understand why he just wants to sit under me. Read more…

He Was Driving Me Crazy the Other Day

But today all I could do was think about how cute he was. I even laughed at his silly jokes; some of which were directed at me. Yeah, the boy is a cute, smart, funny kid.

And I think I’ll keep him

Tags: Me and My Boy

Confessions of a Crazed Mom: Stop Bouncing Around!

Today I’m going to take a brief diversion from all the goal setting talk to make a confession. I’m sure most parents will agree that while mostly fun and heartwarming, sometimes you just get tired of “Mommy mommy, look at me mommy!”

Now I love the boy, but fuck if he isn’t jut a bundle of energy. All. The. Time. And that can be really exhausting after a long day at work when you have freelance projects to do and you have cook dinner and make sure write a blog post for the day…

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining or anything (ok, I kinda am), but is it too much to ask that the kid not bounce all over the freaking house from the moment we walk through the door to the moment he goes to bed? It’s like he likes when I yell at him to stop bouncing all over the place!

On the weekends, I send him outside and tell him not to come back until he’s hungry, but during the week and with it getting dark so early, he doesn’t get much playtime between school and the YMCA. So I try to stay calm and remind him that flipping is not an indoor activity (Yeah. Flipping).

I know I’m not the only parent who longs for silence from time to time. I love the boy. Sometimes, I just don’t love the energy.

Tags: Children, Crazed Mom, Too Much Energy

He was frustrated, I really shouldn’t have laughed…

The boys had been at the pool and returned early because the little one fell and hit his head. He had been running. He knows better. I gave him the look.

Right away he starts crying about how his brother was chasing him and…Then the brother cuts in with no he wasn’t and suddenly the little is growling, turning red, flexing his little muscles while breathing in big huffs. I was seriously afraid he was going to pop something.

I’ve seen him get all worked up and frustrated because he feels like no one is listening. And with two older boys around who like to play the dozens and make a joke of everything he does because he’s younger, the little has a hard time communicating sometimes.

A few deep breaths later, he wiped away his tears and I gave him my undivided attention so he could speak his piece. As I expected, he began to ramble about the brother chasing him and the uncle laughing at him and no one listens…And crying and huffing again.

He backed into the corner and huffed and puffed and yelled, “Everyone makes me angry!”

I laughed and he shrieked.

I told him I was sorry but he was being ridiculous. His brother had apologized for making fun of him and the uncle for laughing at him. Then I gave him the speech about choosing to be angry or letting the negativity go. He could be happy or he could sit in the corner huffing and puffing and being angry even after everyone had apologized.

And then I walked away.

He came out of the room shortly thereafter and began talking and playing with the other boys like nothing was wrong.

Tags: drama, Meltdown, Sibling Rivalry

OMG! OMG! OMG!

The boy can swim!

I believed so hard it made me angry yesterday when he wailed like a little girl and said he didn’t think he could do it.

“Yes you can!” I snapped, irritated with his lack of confidence. After all, his mother had been a competitive swimmer from the age of…whatever age they let you start competing…and there was no way I was going to raise a kid who couldn’t swim. Pa-leeze *rolls eyes*

I ignored his tears and cries that it was cold, held him out in the middle of the pool, pointed toward the wall, told him to kick his feet and move his arms. As I felt him start to push himself, I would move my hand from under him.

Every. Single. Time. Without fail, he’d panic waiting for me to save him from drowning, instead of focusing on getting to the wall.

“Go toward the wall, not me, ” I would say moving out of his path.”

He’d gasp for air when he reached the wall, giving me that can I please get out now mommy look.

Today though, he went with my sister. I didn’t feel like swimming and my halfway-around-the-fucking-world boyfriend wanted to talk as soon as I got home…so I didn’t go tonight. I was sitting in my room watching John Stewart on Hulu, when two wet people walked in breathing hard and excited.

“Mom I can swim!” The boy said before I could tell him to go back out and close the door. “I swam in 8 feet!”

My sister told me some long ass story about how great a teacher she is and then asked if I wanted to see him do it. She must’ve been reading my mind because, I was sitting there in utter disbelief. Was this confident man-child I saw before me the same crying little brat I who had scratched me a couple days ago when he tried to jump on my head and I moved away?

I grinned from ear to ear as we walked to the pool…My sister was asking me if I was really proud and all I could do is smile like an idiot.

When we go to the pool, the boy climbed down the ladder. He pulled his goggles down over his eyes and turned to my sister while still holding onto the wall.

“You read?” She asked.

“Ready,” he said.

“And…go!”

As soon as she said it, he pushed off the wall. Kicking furiously, moving his arms and moving across the pool!

OMG! OMG! OMFG!

He stopped, winded on the other side of the pool. “I want to go back.”

“Go.”

I cheered as he swam across the pool, pushing himself hard, completely focused on making it all the way to the wall. He looked like he was working so hard, but I could tell he knew he could make it and that all he had to do was keep going.

And he did.

Two more laps later, he climbed out of the water, exhausted and breathing heavily.

I beamed at him as my heart swelled.

“That was a lot of work man,” I said holding back tears. “I’m so –” my voice cracked. “I’m so proud of you.” I hugged him tight as the tears spilled down my cheeks.”

As we walked him, I was filled with such pride. For so long now he thought he couldn’t do it and I reminded him that he would learn. And today…the boy swam from one side of the pool to the other.

The boy can swim and I am one proud momma.

Tags: Accomplishments, Struggles, Swimming

And What Am I Supposed to do From an Hour Away?

Sometimes I really miss working from home…for a number of reasons. One of those reasons was being able to take care of daily things for the kids and still work full-time. That benefit is that when something goes wrong, I get a call from a teacher…I can handle it. Case closed.

Not so easy working and hour from home. Especially when you child kicks another in the back and the principal tells you that your kid needs to be picked up right away.

There was of course the initial shock of hearing that my child did something so ridiculous, then my brain went WTF! Who…can I call to pick this boy up?

I stammered, “I’m in Irvine…” sort of thinking out loud.

“Oh,” said the principal. “You’re at work…?” He read me the people on the emergency card. “Can any of these people come get him.”

“No…” The wheels were still turning. I knew my sister was still at the house, but she didn’t have a phone. I could call the neighbor girl babysitter to let my sister know I needed the boy picked up right away. I told the principal my sister would be there as soon as possible.

I made the call and I guess I didn’t express the urgent nature of the situation because when I called back 20 minutes later, neighbor girl hadn’t even gone to tell my sister anything…She was all “Oh I was just heading…” And What the hell?!

Through grit teeth as polite as I could muster, I told her the boy was waiting at the back gate and it was very important that someone pick the boy up immediately. At this point I didn’t care which one of them did it; the sister, the neighbor girl…There wasn’t time for relaying messages and shit like that when some coachee is standing at the gate with your kid.

Neighbor girl assured me she’d go pick him up right away. I thanked her, took a deep breath and went to a meeting. Cut to an hour later, I have multiple missed calls on my cell, from both the school and the neighbor girl.

Are you freaking kidding me?! Seriously?

She still hadn’t picked up the boy, hadn’t gone to tell the sister that he needed to be picked up…hadn’t done a thing. Said some shit about not knowing which gate to go to…It was all screwy and bottom line was that the boy was staying at school.

After work and happy hour with other editors, I called the neighbor girl in response to a text message saying she wanted to talk. She vomited her frustration into my ear asked for her pay for the week and hung up. I called back and tried to talk to her but she decided she was busy and I told her I’d talk to her later.

I almost didn’t talk to her. I almost just let it go and vented to my sisters my own frustrations. Had I not come home to hear that I had apparently cursed the neighbor girl out. Now I might have sounded short and stressed out, but sometimes things are just urgent. However, I was at work and I know for a fact that I did not use any profanity in any of those phone calls.

So just to clear the air and make sure the neighbor girl knew that I was a real bitch, I knocked on her door and asked her why she was telling people I cursed her out. Of course she back-peddled. I’m grown, she’s a 17-year-old who thought she was grown. There was no intimidation mind you, just a conversation about what really happened. An apology from me for being short with her on the phone, but it was important and she just didn’t seem to get it.

I saw her roll her eyes when I started to lecture, so I stopped.

“Anyway,” I said cutting myself off. “I just wanted to get everything out in the open so we could be done with it. No love lost…” I saw her crack a little bit of a smile. I smiled back, “Can I have a hug?”

We hugged and I told her to take her skinny ass in the house before she caught her death of cold.

Phew! And can you believe that there was more crap that fell on me today?

I’m tired…

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

Tags: Stress, WTF