Even Daredevils Get Scared

Z is a daredevil.  That kid makes my heart race like nothing ever before.  He will climb, jump and explore anything that he physically can.

I'm the mom that gets stares at the park because, "Should he be climbing that?"  "Yes."

Scaling the uber slide

If he can reach it, he will climb it.
He'd attempt this before he could do it.

I let him push boundaries, safely of course.  He won't learn if he doesn't try.

It makes me happy that he's so daring, because I really wasn't as a kid.  He has taught me so many things, and being fearless is one of them.  It's not that he isn't a bit afraid or weary to try, but he will try anyways.

"Courage is not the absence of fear.  It's acting in spite of it." 

Mark Twain

So yesterday, we got a huge surprise.

We went to the Pecan Street Festival, and were having a blast people watching, snacking on fair food, and enjoying all the handmade crafts, gorgeous art, and unique vendors.  We found an Angry Birds hat.  Great music.  We even found his uncle!

Then we spied a tiny carnival just for kids.  A little ferris wheel, bouncy houses and slides, a giant slingshot and itty bitty carousel.  Score!

Z saw the huge ferris wheel from a mile away.  He smiled, his eyes gleamed and he yelled, "I want to ride that!"  The best part was, that he was big enough that he could.  We waited for tickets and as soon as we approached the ride, they took a break.  He was bummed, but the huge bouncy slide next door called his name.  The anticipation mounted as we peeked over to see if it was about to open up.  

Finally, it opened back up, and we raced over to the line.  He eagerly got into the tiny cage with another boy and we sat on the sideline waving and smiling.  I had my camara ready sure I would capture some huge smiles and waves.  

He got one full circle, with a huge smile the whole way.  I could see that he was soaking in this new experience, so happy he was there, and so curious, and so high up.  Then the ride stopped with him at the top.  Immediately, his face went from happy to unsure.  Very very unsure.  The guy running the ride had to get four more kids in the other cars then he would start again.  

Z looked at me and Dad to see if he was okay.  I could sense that he wanted out, but didn't want to freak him out.  I felt his nervous energy, and it was highly unusual for my little Danger Boy.  

The other kid was way rowdy, and bouncing the cart all over, and smiling and banging on the wall.  Z looked at him as seriously as he could and said, "Sit down."  The kid could sense he was nervous, so he sat down, but continued to yell.  (Thank you, kid.)  Z just looked at me.  I waved and smiled with a look like "you're okay".

Z stood up and walked to the door, and said, "I want out."  I replied, "It's okay.  Sit down, please.  The ride is about to start, he just has to get these kids in.  Okay?"  Again, the look of confidence, as best I could muster.  He trusted me, and sat down.  I could see it in his face he didn't want to.  

If he was seriously scared, or freaking out I would have done something, but he was learning his boundaries, and what he can handle.  The big thing is that he trusted us.  And he gave it a chance.

If the ride had just moved he would have been fine, but he was stuck at the top, for a little over a minute, with a rowdy kid, swinging, and trapped.  It broke my heart.  I very rarely see my boy scared.  I want to always be able to comfort him when he needs it, and gladly I was able to as much as possible.

The ride started again.  He was better, but not as happy as he had hoped he would be.  He barely waved.  I didn't want to force a smile from him, ignore his feelings, and pretend he was just fine, because it wasn't to him.  I did want him to know I thought he was okay.

And he was.

It was also sad to see my happy boy so forlorn.  He was so excited, then so quickly disappointed.

The ride stopped, and he stood up immediately.  He got out, and did not want to ride it again, as I thought he would before.  He didn't want to talk about it, but said something about not liking to be stuck at the top.  I said I understood, and smiled.  

On the way out of the carnival area, I saw a mom struggling with a few kids and handed her the rest of our tickets.  Hopefully they would have more fun on it than us.

Ever have an experience like that with your kid?

Did they demand escape or make it through?

How did you handle it?

It's so sad.

Unsure

Listen

Yesterday was an epic, repetitive battle of the butting of heads for me and Z.

It began when I woke up and realized I forgot to buy coffee for the morning.  That's pretty much a tragedy, which started the whole day off on the wrong foot.  (Damn you, coffee addiction.)  It didn't help that Z just wanted to mess with Bodhi while I fixed the snack they wanted, which pretty much nixed me doing any morning Yoga at all.  Strike two for me.  I had to almost drag Z into the truck for a coffee run.

As soon as I had my warm soothing sweet mocha in my hands, I asked Z if we could start our day over.  By then I guess I had been so much of a jerk, that his reply was an automatic and stink-eyed, "No."  I took responsibility for my jerkishness and decided I wasn't going to let our day continue like that.

I am not quite sure where things went wrong, but through out the day, we kept butting heads.

He'd knock Bodhi down while looking me in the eye.  I'd respond all wrong.  He'd do it again and I'd yell.  He wouldn't get ready for the pool.  I threatened not to go.  Wrong, just wrong.  Over and over.

My poor mom was there to witness our mini-epic battles of our wills.  She had packed such a beautiful lunch in a cooler for our pool trip, so I was determined to go enjoy the day.  Attitude be damned.  Or so I thought.

We got to the pool, and being 100 degrees outside, I was hot and flustered and still annoyed.  At least I'd have help and he'd get to play with Grandma, while I wandered around with Bodhi.

I swear, between the heat, and our strong-willed nature Z and I were just not seeing eye to eye.  It's supposed to be me who lets it go and does the right thing.  You know, the whole "be the change you want to see" attitude.

The whistle blew and it was time for a break.  He knocked his brother down for the last time, I had decided.  I took the opportunity to pack our stuff up and leave.  We'd been there for hours, enjoyed our picnic, Daddy was about home, and honestly I was done.  He didn't want to leave.  By then I was afraid if I didn't go the day would end worse than it began.

We got to the truck, and he started saying bad words, just to piss me off.  I responded by screaming at him.  I was so angry I didn't care.  It wasn't about power, it was about pure unadulterated anger, seething, with the hundred degree weather adding to the steam under my collar.  We yelled in the truck as my mom tried to make the peace.  I almost wanted to yell a her to stay out of it, but I looked back and saw her heart breaking.  By then, all thoughts of peace were a distant memory.  I decided to try and be quiet.

Gladly, the ride home gave me some time to simmer down a little.  I promised him food, we sat down to eat.  Grandma headed out and I took the boys to the bath.  By then, I was trying my hardest not to be fake, but also not to be a jerk, so I said as little as possible.  He felt me, steaming, and didn't even mess with his brother until we got out of the bath.  I asked him to sit in his room, okay, I made him, before I lost it again.  I was determined for us to cool off.

Finally, he came downstairs, and I went to take his brother to bed.  The whole time, I was dreading putting him to bed.  Then I walked out of the room and saw that Daddy had beat me to begin putting him to bed.  Whew.

He called for me to read him a story.  I decided to take my armor off and surrender.  I lay down and we made eye contact.  We both felt the sting of our tired defeat.

I asked him, "What happened today?  How can we make this better?  What did I do wrong?  Be honest.  Tell me the truth, please."

He replied very quietly, "You didn't listen to me."

I asked if he could tell me how.

"You make me drink water when I'm not thirsty.  You made me go when I didn't want to go."

Tears swelled in my eyes.  He was right.  Not only did I not listen to him most of the day, I didn't trust him to meet his needs.  I wasn't showing him respect, and he wasn't showing it to me.  Many moments of how I didn't listen flashed in my mind.  (Well, besides it being a hundred degrees, and wanting him to drink water, that was a talk for another time.)

I asked him if we could hug and kiss and start our day over today, and tomorrow.  He smiled, hugged me tight, kissed me, and all the frustration melted away.  I should've done this earlier, I thought, but anger can get the best of me sometimes.

I told him, "Let's work on using the word listen with each other.  If I'm not listening, please remind me.  If you're not listening, I will remind you.  Let's make it that simple.  Okay?"

"Yes."

We picked up A Light in the Attic, and read poetry until his eyes got heavy.  We said goodnight, and I sang and tickled him to sleep.  By then, I wasn't angry, but felt remorse.  I watched him sleep a while before I slipped downstairs to watch a movie with Daddy.

Today is a new day, and we've begun again.  We've already reminded each other to listen, and I've written the word on my hand.

The least I can do is listen, and really pay attention to him, and my anger when it arises, and let it burn off appropriately.

I am grateful for his honesty.  I am grateful that we can talk.  I am grateful for this beautiful growing boy, that teaches me to pay attention and listen, even if it takes me all day.

Magnitude

Not a day passes that sorrow doesn't seep deep into my bones.

Stories from those that I love, near and far, known and unknown, or the news can break a heart and tenderize it at the same time.  It's those cracks that allow the love to flow.

It broke my heart when Z got hurt, my mind is still unsettled from that.

My dog-niece was buried next to Paco this weekend.  The mother of his children.

A close friend's father passed away from a freak accident.

The news in Austin alone continues to astound me with it's growing violence and sadness.

That's just the tip of the iceberg.

It makes me wonder what kind of world I brought children into.  It makes me cry when I think of the pain that they will endure in their lifetime.  I imagine that parents have pondered this for millennia.

Above all, it makes me realize the magnitude of the job of a parent and what examples I set.

Truth be told, they let me know every day what I should and shouldn't be doing.

It's up to me to show my children love, compassion and respect, so that they may give the same to others.

It's up to me to be kind and gentle, so that everyone receives the same touch from them.

It's up to me to forgive, so that the trespasses and pains others bring may be forgiven.  And so that they can forgive themselves.  We all make mistakes and do things we regret.

It's up to me to be patient, so that they can tolerate everyone and not get so frustrated.

It's up to me to be fearless, so that they may go beyond their fears and learn what they are capable of.

It's up to me to be generous, so that they learn to give and never expect in return.

It's up to me to give them all that I have, love, time and resources, so that they may experience the world in ways that Daddy and I did or didn't.

It's up to me to listen to them, so that they listen to others.

But when it comes down to it, children already encompass all these traits from birth.  Sometimes they forget them, begin to test them, or see alternate examples, but they lie in the heart of each and everyone of us.

It's up to me to remind them that they can remain well into adulthood.

I am so grateful that they have taught and reminded me of so many things, which in turn reminds me that I too teach them.