Mother's Guilt and a Family Affair

Saturday night, as A and I walked through the pouring rain, trying to dodge huge puddles while I carried the umbrella and he manned the flashlight, we started talking about the comedy of errors that led us to that sopping baseball field.

"It's basically been a family affair Mom...everyone contributed, but I still think it's D's fault."

It all started with a typical Saturday around these parts with D and L both having baseball games AND pictures, and L having a soccer game sandwiched in between.    D's game was very early, so the day started with early rising and making sure that I had all of the various uniforms and gear for L's transitions between sports.

Oh, and we had snack for L's baseball game, which plays an important role later on.

D had a great baseball game, pitching three great innings, hitting two doubles, scoring three runs and making some other great infield plays.  He was really stoked.  L and I left early from the baseball game to rush over to his soccer game in which he was equally fierce.  I swear, that kid is SO tough and works so hard running up and down that field.  He had three great goals and was also very happy with his game.  After the game, he and I swapped uniforms in the car, while K and D went to grab a sandwich and pick up the snacks for L's baseball pictures and game.

At this point, everything was running like clockwork and I was secretly patting myself on the back for managing the logistics.  (on the backside it's important to note that I arranged E's pickup from the airport for a college recruiting trip and the other two minions were fed and occupied). 

L and his cousin W both had some great hits and fielding plays and loved batting back to back with their "cousin" bombs into the outfield.  D came back to the game with his dad because his friends were playing on a field next to his brother's. He walked up to me sitting in my green, sideline chair and handed me his itouch. I have told him a million times NOT to bring his touch to games, the beach, etc. and once again he didn't listen.  I told him as much and then he placed the touch in the cup holder of the chair.

Game over, I went over to bring the kids snacks, while K wandered over to the majors game next door to watch D's friends.  I hustled L through getting his gear together, grabbing the leftover snacks, because we (me, K, A and M) had to get home to get ready for the b'nai mitzah of a boy on A's team and his sister. 

Are you still following?  I was rushing because we all needed to shower AND I still had to iron A's shirt.  While walking out, I arranged with one of the dad's of D's friend to let him stay till the game was over and give him a ride home.

Again, virtual patting on the back occurred as we all pulled up to the country club right on time where the b'nai mitzvah was taking place, looking lovely and ready to enjoy the evening.  And enjoy it we did with the moving ceremony, great food and fun dancing.  A and M had a blast.

We got home around 8:45 and D asked me where his itouch was.  I immediately said, oops, must still be in the car with the green chair. As I walked into the garage I yelled back over my shoulder, "D I've told you over and over you shouldn't bring this thing to games!"  I opened the hatch and, as I'm sure you've figured out, the green chair wasn't there.  I'd left it at the field.

D started crying and went into his bed.  I yelled for A to change quickly and we'd headed over to the field to see if it was there.  At this point, it was pouring down rain and had been for several hours.  I hoped that I had just left the chair in it's bag next to the spot where I parked and that the touch would be okay.  I also thought we could use the rice trick and dry it out if it was caught in the rain.

Much to our dismay, we found my chair sitting exactly where I had left it, and no itouch.  Someone had taken it.

I got home and felt terrible.  He loves that thing.  We got it for him when he turned 10 as a way to try to show him that we thought he was a grown up boy and in an attempt to break him out of the funk he was in at the time.  It is such a stress relief for him.  He listens to music, checks sports scores, texts with his friends (under my supervision) and plays fun interactive games with his soccer buddies.

Somehow, I got myself to sleep knowing that I had an early morning drive an hour away in MD the next day for soccer.  I woke up at 3am, however, physically feeling awful.  I could not go to sleep.  The anxiety was terrible.

So I did what every logical person would do at 3am and ordered him a refurbished itouch from the same generation on ebay for $129.  I even bought him another VT silicone cover on amazon.  As I clicked the buttons, I felt a calmness come over me and the physical symptoms left.  I was able to read on the couch for a few minutes and then fall right asleep when I went back up.  I went completely against all of my parenting instincts, but at that point I would do anything to stop feeling the way I was feeling. The thought of him not having it for 3 more months pushed my mommy guilt in major overdrive.

The next morning, I started to tell him about my middle of the night purchase when he said, "I know it was my fault Mommy, I can wait till Christmas."  I could have kept my mouth shut, but I told him what I had done.  We are going to work out a contract for his behavior to see if this will be an incentive to keep the touch.  I'm crossing my fingers.  I'm not sure what I'm going to say to the other kids.  I also haven't told K yet (he's in a totally stressing about money mode lately).  Not sure how I'm going to swing that one. 

While it was D's fault, it was also totally my fault for leaving the chair.  He is only 11 after all.  K also dropped the ball by not helping me get things together after the game.  A even added (dripping with sarcasm) that if I didn't have to iron his shirt that I wouldn't have been rushing.  Hence, the family affair.

I'm proud of D for processing the situation overnight and taking some blame.  He did show me how grown up he can be.  I'm not very proud of my parenting in this situation, but can forgive myself for once again doing the best I can do at the time.  I think holding him to some changes in his actions around here might work.

Mommy guilt and a crazy schedule can create a formula for a hopefully minor parenting blunder.  It's at least nice to see my little boy smiling that his mommy did something just for him that didn't involve laundry, feeding or driving.

There is no manual

I tend to write a significant amount on this blog about my challenges with parenting the girls.  When I talk about the boys, it's usually a quick snippet of pride or cuteness or vacation smiles.

This will not be that post.

I am really struggling with our 11 year old D.  Outside of our house, he is the perfect child. At school, all we hear about from his teachers and peers is how kind he is, what a good student he is, how responsible and well-behaved he is.  On the sports field, we get constant feedback on what a great player he is, not because of his natural athletic ability, but his work ethic and what a great teammate he is.  He's got wonderful friends.  He loves his little cousins and goes out of his way to teach all of them his "fist bump" or high fives.  He's funny and interesting and silly.

Within the four walls of our house (or in the car on the way home), however, it is a different story.  In short, he is driving me crazy. He doesn't listen...EVER.  I have to repeat myself twelve times to get him to do what I ask.  Most of these things are simple tasks.  Go to bed.  Eat your breakfast, lunch, dinner. Stop leaving your baseball, soccer, (name another sport) stuff by the front door, family room floor, or kitchen floor instead of on your designated shelf.  Get out of the shower (after 30 minutes).  Go to bed.  Stop reading the paper, playing your itouch, checking scores on the computer and get in the car, got to bed, eat your dinner, or do your homework.  You see the pattern.

All of these seem like typical parental complaints.  Kids aren't little robots and expected to follow directions to 100% perfection.  I get that.  But if he would just do it 50% of the time our lives would be so much easier.  What is more difficult to handle is how he treats everyone in the family.  He simply CANNOT stop bugging everyone, especially in the car.  Touching them, teasing them, getting in everyone's personal space.  Last week, I had to tell him to sit in the car with his feet on the floor, hands folded in his lap and eyes closed so he wouldn't be tempted to tease his little brother sitting next to him or his cousins behind him.  He is exhausting.

At times he just seems so angry.  He is the middle child on steroids given our new family situation.  He just wants to be noticed and it doesn't matter if it's negative or positive.

My guilt is on serious overdrive on this one.  He was 7 when Jeanne and Mike died. He knew exactly what was happening and saw all of us fall apart.  He had diarrhea, wet the bed and clung to me whenever I was around.  I don't think I really addressed this at the time since I was trying to keep our household running while helping with the girls. I wasn't the best mom in the first 9 months after the accident, and then his cousins moved in causing all kinds of turmoil.  He was just a little boy.  He still is a little boy. Despite knowing all these things, my typical reaction to him is frustration, anger, and yelling. He knows exactly how to push all of my buttons and I let them all be pushed.  Ugh.

At back-to-school night last week, his religion teacher pointed out a project their class had on the wall.  Each student was asked to cut out three leaves from construction paper, writing an adjective to describe themselves on each of them.  A fourth leaf was created to write down a time when they knew God is with them.  I scanned the wall as the other parents filed out to the next class, trying to find D's leaves.  I noticed other students' work.  "God is with me when I take tests."  "God is with me when I play baseball." "God is with me when I try something new."  All typical, mundane 11 year old items.

I found D's first three leaves.  Adventurous.  Kind.  Hardworking.  Definitely three words I'd used to describe D.  Tears welled in my eyes as I read the fourth leaf.

"God was with me when my aunt and uncle died and when my great-grandfather died."

My sensitive boy.  When I still want to scream "Fuck you God!!  Where were you??!!" my wise pain in the ass points out that he knows God was with him at those times.  And, once again, I get the reminder of how the accident profoundly affected my kids.

I'm not sure what to do about D.  In my head, I know why he might be acting the way he is.  For some reason, though, I'm having a hard time breaking the cycle and usually my frustration wins out over reason or at least a cooler head.  Our crazy schedule and the sheer number of kids definitely doesn't help the situation. I sometimes wonder if the boys are still having delayed reactions to the trauma.  Their needs have certainly always seemed to be pushed aside to the more acute and, frankly, louder needs of the girls.  There are moments when D is especially being difficult that I can still see that little seven year old through his deep blue eyes. Scared. Angry. Sad.

I am probably the millionth blogger to write this statement: PARENTING IS HARD! There is no customized manual for each kid.  While I'm still questioning my faith in all of this, maybe I need to follow in D's steps a bit and try to feel God's presence in the times of struggle.  Maybe this recognition will give me the calm and understanding I need to tackle my difficult boy.  At this point, anything is worth a shot.

Console

Mother's day in this house sucks.  Father's day does too for that matter.

We tiptoe around the girls, and everyone, boys included, try to downplay the entire day.

At one point, M was laying prostrate on the basement stairs moaning.  This after I asked her what she wanted for lunch.

E and I actually cracked jokes about her plans to visit the cemetery at some point during the day.

We went to a barbecue at my in-laws and I had to remind my sister-in-law why the girls seemed a little "off."

I do their laundry.  I feed them.  I make the appointments and help with homework.  I cheer from the sidelines and poolside.  I console them when they need me, whether they admit their need or not.  I set boundaries and praise them for good behavior.  I love them.

But.

I am not their mother.  They miss their mommy.  I miss their mom.  I wouldn't want it any other way.  I never want Jeanne to be forgotten.  I am not a substitute.

What sucks is how this reality impacts the boys and our family as a whole.  Mother's day should be a day when I get to chill a bit and get a bit of a break.  It's days like yesterday when the girls need me the most. I'd be lying if I wasn't jealous by the facebook posts of the other moms celebrating with their families.

My brain says it's just another day and the girls miss their parents everyday.

My heart hurts for them as the rest of the world highlights what they don't have.

Priorities

I'm working on a project at work that looks at decision making and how a certain federal agency measures "fuzzy" concepts and how that effects its ability to prioritize resources in a budget reduced environment.  We're looking at other disciplines (psychology, sociology, conflict resolution and peace building) to see if any measurement methods could be applied.  I was thinking about work this morning as I drove in and it got me thinking about how I make decisions during to day.

It is a constant struggle of prioritization.

Some decisions are easy.  Feeding the kids or scrolling through facebook.  Obviously the minions must be fed.  Go to my own soccer game or watch D play baseball.  D is going to rank on top every time.

Some are a lot trickier.  Read to L or listen to E vent about her day.  Fold laundry or watch A skate.  Sleep or spend quality time with K.  Get some work done or do dishes or help M with homework or do all of the million logistics things that come with parenting (make appointments, talk to therapists, fill out forms, make lunches, etc. etc. etc.).

Among the five kids, some of them tend to get prioritized higher.  The girls and D usually win out because they are the loudest and most demanding with their needs. A is a pretty quiet kid and doesn't complain too much (especially if he is being fed---see decision number one above).  He regularly puts others' needs ahead of himself.  L, being the youngest, is also a pretty "go with the flow" kind of guy.  He is easily distracted by his DS or legos or drawing pad so I can deal with the more pressing need.  Actually, as I was writing this, it dawned on me that A and L usually gravitate to each other during the day, cosed up next to each other playing angry birds or skateboarding together.

My therapist and I have talked a lot about shifting the dynamic in our family and trying to even things out.  I remember writing a while back about thinking of each of the kids as banks and trying to make a deposit each day.  When I really look at it, however, I certainly spend a significant amount of time making deposits with the girls.  As individuals they are so demanding and, M in particular, needs so much support and help.  I know this makes sense.  They both have issues with attachment and feeling secure in our family and in my love. 

I'm not sure, though, about the long term impact this will have on both the girls and the boys (especially my two chill guys).  I worry about this.  I worry about making the right decisions and whether I'm using all the tools (methods) I have to make sure all their needs are met.  There is only one of me and just like the problem we're addressing at work, there is only some much to go around.