Tagged: Children

May 27

“What’s Wrong With People?! I’m a Big Kid Now!”

It happened again…Quite possibly the biggest fear of any free-range parent: Someone called the police about my son being unsupervised.

This time the call came from someone who had my address, and probably, one of my neighbors.

Unlike the previous run in with the police, the officer did not yell or automatically jump to the conclusion that I was a bad mother. He didn’t assume that because my son was playing at the park, I was negligent.

Instead, he noted that my being home was an indication of supervision and simply asked if my son had a habit of getting into trouble. “Is he responsible? Can you trust him to be where he says he’s going to be?”

No, yes and yes.

And then we both stood there for a moment looking puzzled.

“Someone gave you my address?” I asked.

“Yes,” he responded. “I don’t know how long the call has been in the system, but someone reported that you regularly leave your 9-year-old son alone and unsupervised.” He paused for a moment. “It sounds to me like you’re doing alright. And obviously, he’s not unsupervised if you’re home.”

While I was heartbroken thinking that one of my neighbors might have sent the police to my home, I was encouraged by the officer’s lack of concern. He was kind and assured me that “this stops with me,” and that CPS had not been alerted. He was just investigating a call. He asked a few more questions, thanked me for my time and went on his way.

But I was frazzled by the visit. Again my mind wondered if I had done anything wrong. I began trying to figure out which neighbor or community member might have made the call and why. Was it time for another move? This time with the goal of landing in a more kid friendly community? (Later I realized that this was probably a hangover from the last police visit and the officer probably hadn’t been completely forthcoming in that regard.)

I waited a few minutes and then headed to the park to check on the boy, who was already on his way home. As we hit the stairs, one of the kids from our community ran up and noted that the police had been here. Was everything alright? I told her things were fine, as the boy and I made our way to our apartment silently.

“Why were the police here?” The boy asked once we were inside.

“They said someone made a call about you being unsupervised.”

He was livid. “Again?!? What is wrong with people?!” He said throwing his helmet on the couch. “I’m a big kid now!”

“I know, honey…” I didn’t really know what else to say. I was still processing the whole thing myself. I was afraid, but didn’t want him to be. How could I teach him not to be afraid of the community if I was afraid?

“Maybe…” he started. “Maybe I shouldn’t go to the park.”

In that moment, I knew I had to reassure both of us that we were doing the right thing. “No. We will not be afraid and we have not done anything wrong.”

“But what if this happens again?”

“Then we’ll deal with it.”

I could tell that he was just as shaken as I and for a couple days, he didn’t ask to go to the park.

Thankfully, the fear didn’t last long and yesterday, he asked if he could go visit his friends near the big park. Still nervous about the visit from the police, I decided to escort him. And once he had successfully found a friend’s house at which to play, he quickly waved me away.

I left trying to ignore the nagging feeling, but knew he would make his way home on his own just fine.

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Apr 08

Raising interesting people; not “kids”

For most of my life I was content to be invisible. While my younger sister was a fearless social butterfly, I was often content to sit inside reading a book. I made friends with people with huge personalities and let them be the center of attention. Even when I got married, I downplayed my accomplishments and felt bad that I was accomplishing, while he complained about his sacrifice.

I thought that being invisible was my strength. That it meant I was humble and gracious. Instead, it was me being afraid to be myself and speak my truth.

And then I realized that if I wanted people to see my value, I had to stop hiding behind the fear; the fear of actually achieving my greatness.

In fact, its the same thing most people are afraid of: their own success. From childhood, we’re discouraged from standing out — either by peer pressure or because our parents impose their style on us. How many of us were the weirdos and misfits and nerds, all because we were different from everyone else? Our society pretends to value conformity, while those who achieve true greatness are the self-reliant.

So when the Boy told me that his friend didn’t want to be his friend anymore because the Boy was showing off when he did handstands, rapping and dancing, I was a little saddened. I wanted to encourage the boy to work it out, tell him to be considerate of the other kid’s concerns. I understand that I am raising a confident, fearless, stylish and gregarious kid. I also understood that this friend was unhappy that the Boy could do things he couldn’t, and he was probably a little jealous.

So I told the Boy that anyone who couldn’t accept and appreciate him for who he was, who would tell him he should stop dancing, jumping and singing — all some of the Boy’s favorite activities — was not someone he needed to be friends with. Hopefully the other kid will get over it and find his own light within. Until then, the Boy will have to look for kids as confident as he is and comfortable with him being himself.

I want the Boy to know that its ok to be himself and to like who he is. I like who he’s becoming and I’m proud to say that I’m raising an interesting person, and not just “some kid.”

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Jan 19

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.

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Jan 09

Returning to Normal

So it seems things are starting to return to normal. My brother decided to go back to my sister’s house; of course he had to listen to nearly an hour lecture on how this is his last chance. As the mediator even I had to be careful not to sigh too loudly while on the conference call with the family.

I’m also sending my oldest son home on the red eye tomorrow night. He won’t get home until 6:30 am, but at least he’ll be home to sleep in his own bed.

This also means that my house will go back to being relatively quiet. One kid can only make so much noise, but two or three children exponentially increase the noise level. Honestly, I don’t know how people do it; four and five kids…or in some cases 20. I’d go crazy not being able to quiet spot to think.

Even with all the noise and the craziness of the last few weeks, I’ll miss my boy when he goes back to his dad. He’s smart and funny and it seems like he’s on the road to being someone I might be able to be friends with when he becomes an adult. I’m proud of him and appreciate the great job his dad is doing raising such a fine young man.

But I will relish the quiet when things go back to normal.

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Jan 03

Go Outside!

I love my boys but they are noisy. Granted that’s what kids are supposed to be…

Most of the holiday season, I’ve had a quiet house, boys at their respective grandparents and all. Since New Year’s Eve, I’ve had three: the boy, the kid and the brother.

So for the past few days, I’ve had all three boys. And damn if they aren’t energetic and rowdy and loud.

Actually, I screwed up when booking the kid’s flight back to ATL so he’s going to be here a week longer than expected. The brother got into some trouble with my sister and she decided she’d had enough, tagged off to me, after I agreed to take him for the weekend; so it looks like he’ll be here for a while.

But today I was at my wits end and when we returned him after church, I sent the boy and the kid outside. Oh sure they complained about it being hot and whined about being bored and wanting to stay in the house. I wasn’t having that though…Hell, they’ll be lucky if I let them back in the house before dinner time.

I bet they’ll think twice about rough housing and talking all loud in my house for the next day or so. Especially if I remind them that they can go outside for that.

I don’t expect silence but I do expect them to use inside voices and not bounce off the walls. And if they want to play or talk all extra loud…

They can take that shit outside.

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Dec 23

Why Can’t They Just be Happy?!

I was going to write something heart warming about my son being home for the holidays. I’ve missed him so and I just wanted to be positive about the whole thing. It sucks wasting precious time on negative energy…but dammit, this visit is much harder than I anticipated.

I wanted us to spend time together laughing and cherishing the few moments we have…He’s only going to be here until the 31, not even two full weeks. Instead I’ve been mediating silly misunderstandings between the boys, which I suppose is normal, but I just wanted them to hang out, have fun and love each other.

Well…when I walked in from work today, my sister was yelling at the boys about roughhousing too much. They had spent what little dry part of the day outside but were still bubbling over with energy and she wasn’t having it. Apparently they had been wrestling and doing what boys do. The problem is that the little one couldn’t really hang and kept getting hurt…which is precisely why I hate that sort of play in the first place.

After I dealt with the initial drama I thought everything would be cool. The boys went into their room to play and were fine for a while until I hear the E yell “I’m sorry B! I’m sorry!” Then dramatic sobbing.

Dammit! What now?!

Breathe…breathe…

E was sitting on his bed still boo-hooing. I resisted the urge to grumble inwardly as I walked over to the bed, hearing B’s voice but not being able to figure out where he was.

“He’s under the bed mom,” E said.

“What’s wrong now?” Unfortunately my exasperation came through and the water works on E were going again. “What’s going on?”

E squealed something about B being mad at because he’d accidentally hurt B’s finger… sobbing

B interjected, “But I’m not mad. It’s just… indecipherable sobbing

What the hell?!

“Come from under there, and both of you…stop crying,” my voice was getting louder, but I didn’t want to yell. They were hysterical and needed me to be calm. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

B: He hurt my finger, but it was an accident and he keeps saying I’m mad…and I’m not,” he squeaked the end as he held back the tears; lip quivering.

E: I said sorry, but he’s still mad at me sobbing

“He said he’s not mad,” I snapped. “How frustrating it must be that you insist he is mad, when he keeps telling you he’s not.”

B: This is why I play alone! Every time I play with someone they get hurt! huge dramatic sob

I felt like I was in some sort of warped universe. I had no idea what was going on. B obviously wasn’t talking about his finger being hurt and E was just upset because he thought he had hurt his brother. B kept saying, “I’m not used to playing with other people,” and my heart was breaking because all I wanted them to do is play and enjoy each other’s company.

Me: You have to be able to play with your brother-

B: But I can’t play with him because he’s just going to get hurt…

M: Stop focusing on something that’s over and move on to the next thing…

‘Round and round we went, until I just held them both close to me, shushing them. “Stop, stop, stop.”

Finally B pulled away and said “I just need a few minutes alone.”

“Ok,” I stood up and reached out for E’s hand. “But B, don’t wallow. Use this time to calm yourself down. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

I didn’t have time to go back to check on him before he came into my room, where E and I were slightly distressed about not being able to console B.

B: Can I talk to mom alone please?

E gave his brother a hug and smiles as he closes the door behind him.

B: You know how I was telling you that I’m used to playing alone? (I nod ) Well it’s because I don’t have any friends…the kids, they all make fun of me…”

So now we get to the root of the issue; he’s an outcast. Well, not much you can do about that other than develop thick skin and sharp wit with which to confuse any potential bullies. I told him that I understood and that he would have to be real strong. Let them hate, because people who pick on others only do it to feel better about themselves.

We had a nice long talk, followed by a group hug. We ate dinner, read a bed time story and now I’m exhausted.

Add to all of this that I forgot something really important for my mother, which I don’t even have the energy to get into…

All in all, an emotionally draining, shitty evening. sigh

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