A young girl and moving from powerless to empowered

We’ve all felt that debilitating, stomach-dropping sensation of being powerlessness. Of being at the mercy of others, or of a situation. Of wanting to ‘stop the ride to get off.’ Somehow along the way we’ve learned how to deal with it. Do you remember a specific moment when you determined a course of action? Was it breathing, retaliation, pinching yourself, crying, eating, inner monologue, or something else entirely? Do you try different things each time? Or do you have a tried and true way?

How about parenting through that? How have you parented when a kiddo has come to you? How did your parents handle it? Did you even talk to them about it?

My lil miss came home after school the other day, crying. After taking off her bike helmet, her hair plastered to her sweaty head and tears adding to the drippy mess, she wanted a hug. Her brothers were instantly attentive, but Miss didn’t want to talk yet. She needed a cuddle to help regulate and chill out.

We all hung out in the living room, her and I snuggling on the couch, and the brothers on their devices in the comfy chairs. After I asked if she was ready to chat, she told me the story of what happened after school.

Two boys in her grade had begun to target her and a friend on their bikes. They darted in front of their path, preventing them from biking home. Once cornered, the boys grabbed backpacks and twisted Miss and her friend off their bikes, hopped on and threatened to take their bikes home. She was worried about having her bike stolen, and couldn’t think fast enough in the moment to figure out what to do or who to find for help. A little more harassing and the boys let them have their bikes back, only to stop them again and bodily lift her up while she was sitting on the bike – she couldn’t touch the ground anymore and was afraid she’d fall to the pavement. Like cats with a mouse, they let her go and then stopped her again, pulling on the handlebars and the back tire. More of this and haranguing, and the boys eventually let them go. She was badly shaken and was sure they were going to chase her home and she wouldn’t be able to get away fast enough.

Ohmygawsh. How do I parent in this moment? What is my intent? What is my goal? How do I set aside my triggered responses and help her build resiliency?

My knee-jerk reaction was to say all the things that minimize or reduce her experience (in the misguided hope that she wouldn’t feel so bad) and excuse the boys’ behaviour:

• “Those boys probably just like you and don’t know how to show it”
• “Boys can do stupid things”
• “What did you do just before that happened?”
• “Boys will be boys”
• “Why didn’t you go into the school?”
• “You should have left straight-away”
• “Are you sure it was a big deal?”

I know, I know! I feel awful that those were tumbling around my head. To create some space, I just held her while she cried and said that it was a scary experience and maybe she just needs to cry and feel it in her body right now. And in the meanwhile, I was trying to figure out what to say. I could feel the brother’s antenna’s directed at her and I. I knew I couldn’t excuse the boys behaviour – it felt there was a lot of weight in this interaction – for her future self, and for my boy’s future relationships with girls.

I labelled some of the feelings I was imagining she felt:
powerlessness
scared
frustrated
embarrassed.

And the reasons why she felt those emotions:
they were in her space
touching her and her things
she couldn’t move away
uncertain about who can help
and whether it would escalate further.

And I commented on how those were transgressions:
disrespect
they didn’t recognize her body language
they were only considering themselves.

She shared some of what she felt she did well, some of what she would do differently, and other choices that might have been available. We imagined options for tomorrow if the boys continued to harass, and who she can access for help. I outlined the process and the steps of escalation if her dealings with the boys wasn’t successful, and if the teachers at school couldn’t help. We joked about her brothers coming to the school to pick her up and throw their weight around. We all had a laugh and enjoyed dinner together.

There was a brief moment when she begun to show signs of perseverating, but I didn’t want her to feel victimized or anymore powerlessness. I asked if she needed to review her strategy, otherwise we’ll put it away for now.

She went back to school the next day, armed with a plan and (hopefully) a sense that we at home had her back. She was happy to report that the boys acted as if nothing happened, and she was prepared to let it go. We discussed whether she would feel comfortable approaching them and telling them she hadn’t enjoyed what they did. She made the choice to leave it, unless it came up naturally.

Whew.

That was a big parenting moment for me. Trying to find the balance between letting her know that we support her, and letting her know she can handle it.

How do you create space during big moments to let things unfold? This situation was easier because she so obviously needed the time – it’s harder when I miss the subtle cues. How do you create space during those subtle times?

xo
Mto3

Un-scheduling

It’s possible in the summer to become less scheduled – there is way more time to do and be and find your own pace. No school. Less work (for me). More friends with free time. Pools. Beaches. Parks. Visiting. Vacationing.

Vacations. This is the second year that trio have gone to their Dad’s for a portion of the summer. Last year it was 2 weeks. This year it is three. Three weeks. They have a ton of fun things planned to do, as well as some free time to do yoga, berry pick, and play in the backyard with their step-dog. Being somewhere else for them definitely means vacation and fun.

But what does it mean for me? I’m at home with our same mess and our same clothes and our same space. It’s the same grocery stores and parks and the same weather.

The fridge doesn’t need to be stocked with snacks. Laundry will be done in small batches and it’s solely my socks to match up. My shoes are the only ones at the front door. Bedtime is whenever and so is wake up. I can have tuna from the can for dinner.

And what else does it mean? My sense of time is all mixed up without having people to care for: to feed and tuck in at night and wake up in the morning. That also means no one to redirect and hug and encourage and clean. No one here to giggle with or feel frustrated with or hang out with. No arguments to mediate. No achievements to celebrate. No one to help with cleaning or feeding the pets or mowing the lawn. No one to tell what to do.

But amid all the lack, clarity emerges.  I have uncovered that, within myself, I am a Mother first and foremost. A mum and then me as a person, as a woman, as a sister or friend. Without the label of “mum” to help shape my days and hours, I’m not sure what to do with my time or what I even *want* to do with my time. I didn’t realize that my mix of my own-self and my mother-self wasn’t as balanced as I thought. During their absence of the last week, and knowing I have another 2 more weeks, I feel at odds: I have to acknowledge I’m not as in-touch with me-as-a-person.

Good to know.

For the next two weeks, I’m giving myself permission to choose my own adventure and to unschedule myself. Maybe I do want to declutter the basement, but if I don’t, that’s ok. Maybe I want to go kayaking for an afternoon. Maybe sit around Indigo and browse books. Maybe do work. Maybe clean the house. But I will find my own pace.

Allow me to encourage you to do the same this summer. Find opportunities to tune into yourself, for yourself. Maybe you have only one afternoon, but take it for only you.

Summer means freer days and less scheduling. Make this summer extra for you as well as others in your care.

xo
Mto3

Smack Dab in the middle

How did we get into the middle of this frosty November?

Ok, well, I *know* that we got here, but wow! Days are just slipping past. When trio were small, people told me that the days are long, but the years are short. As they get older, I feel as though the years and days are short: they rush past, full of school and work and activities and dinners and moments.

I try to catch the moments with trio, treasuring and realizing each time they ask for a hug, or to tuck them in, or we all sit together for dinner, there is one less opportunity for a connection. They grow up. They need me less. They begin to branch out. Their interests evolve outside the house. And, also – I continue to grow. My interests shift outside of their needs. I begin to understand myself more.

My oldest is now a High School-er. I’m striving to let him make mistakes and uncover his own path, but still be present for support and guidance. I’m grateful that he’s able to articulate his needs (needing more space, sometimes, and other times needing defined boundaries) so we can try to remain connected through this new and dramatic phase of growth.

The most glaring shift on the horizon for us is his involvement in an afterschool club. Three times a week, he needs to be at the school for 6 hours (or more) for an astounding total of 18+ hours per week outside of a typical school schedule. He is poised for growth – guidance from other adults, peer relationships, technical skill development, autonomy, personal awareness… I’m so excited for him! Our house routine and systems will shift and change in concert with his needs. On evenings when he’s home, his homework will take precedence over housework/chores and his personal downtime. The other two will need to step up and support him and the house in new ways which will lead to growth and development in them.

It’s going to be amazing!

And it’s going to be hard!

There will be tears, and frustration, and uncertainty.

Change is tough. Growth is necessarily uncomfortable.

As the mama, I have an opportunity to model and practice patience, humour, and mindfulness. No doubt I will also be practicing humility, and forgiveness; and seeking forgiveness from trio as I stumble and strive to figure this all out.

My sense, as I go forward, is to be present. Plan and aim to make tomorrow and next week smooth, but stay in the moments as they come up. I can’t help but be empathetic when I’m present. And I imagine we’ll need LOTS of empathy in the coming weeks!

xo
Mto3

 

 

Gotta catch them all!

The moments.

The little moments when a kiddo leans against me. Or asks for 5 more minutes of snuggles. Or follows me around the house while I’m trying to get work done. Or lingers at the dinner table. Or holds the door open for me. Or doesn’t let go of a hug.

As an out-loud reminder to myself, and also to trio, I comment that I enjoy these times as they come up. It grounds me. It is a concrete acknowledgement that their time of being small(er) is temporary and they won’t always find as much comfort in my presence, and they won’t always be present around me. It keeps me in-the-moment and centered in gratitude.

The natural progression is that they will gradually not need me around them so much. In fact, part of my job as a mum is to help them figure out how to derive comfort from their own inner core. This reminder helps shift me away from feeling tired, or overwhelmed, or irritated (yes, when I have a huge pile of things to do, it can feel irritating when I need to make room for their needs too). Most of the time, the mindshift works and I drop instantly into the present. But other times I just don’t have enough resources inside me to make that space for them.

By saying it out loud to them, I think that conveys my love to them, and that they’re important.* I hope it also lets them know that it’s ok when they start to drift away from me and into their own lives, because I understand that there is a nucleus shift away from me as-the-center and into their own center.

When I take a step back from the day-to-day, I see the bigger picture of how our lives will diverge and I want them to have as many skills, tools, and a bucket as full as I can make it – and teach them how to fill their own bucket.

It’s as though we are all on a path and many times I’m the only one walking, and they are hanging off me and holding my hand. But as we walk, they begin to have a path of their own: a path that veers away from our family path and then rejoins, and then separates again. It’s the steps when we’re walking together that I treasure. Those are the moments I strive to see with a grateful heart. The times when we walk together will become less and less frequent, and I can celebrate that I’ve taught them as much as I can on how to walk with strength – alone and apart from me and the family path.

As a solo parent, it becomes evident that it will be just me on the path (eventually). I want to be able to celebrate that I’ve learned, and taught myself, as much as possible on how to walk alone. With strength and confidence. Just like them.

xo
Mto3

*I hope it doesn’t make them feel guilty that their needs are trumping whatever is happening in the moment. Or that it’s a chore for me to give them some time…