May contains Mother's Day, so it seems like the right time to reflect on Things I Learned From My Mom About Parenting. One piece of advice that she gave me has really stuck: "Your goal as a parent is not simply to have obedient or easy children. You are trying to raise competent, well-adjusted adults." Mom would often say this to encourage me when the latest developmental stage was driving me nuts.
"Yes, it is frustrating that she wanders off to talk to strangers when she is two. But as an adult, it will be good if she is confident and friendly rather than shy and self-absorbed."
"Yes, it is overwhelming when he cries for hours on end. Just keep letting him know you love him. As an adult, he will always know he has a safe place to come to work things out. "
The long view is what is so hard to see when you are the parent, in the moment. As I become an increasingly older mother, I catch glimpses of the more enduring perspective of a grandparent, and I deeply value this. I see it when the grandfathers pick up a screaming infant and he or she is instantly quiet. The screaming doesn't make grandpa tense, as he knows that this, too, shall pass. Grandpa's calmness seems to seep into the baby. I also gained this perspective from my mom's humor. When I would call her up on a particularly frustrating day, her response (after listening well and honoring my need to vent) would usually be to remind me, "Whatever problem you are dealing with now, just take a deep breath and try to laugh it away. In a month, she will have grown past this stage regardless of what you do. Besides, in a month, she will have grown into a new issue that will be so much worse, you won't even remember what you used to be worried about!"
In trying to honor Mom's advice and the long view, I do try, from time to time, to consciously let my kids grow up. I find it usually does take a deliberate decision on my part, though. Acknowledging the emerging independence of my babies is not something that comes automatically, or even easily.
It is funny how perspectives change. I remember when James was maybe two or three, and our friends with all the kids came to visit. At that time, they probably only had five kids, ranging from 6 years older to 1 year younger than James. My friend started to send all the kids into the backyard to play, and I went to find my coat and shoes to supervise. She looked surprised that I would be going out. Well, someone needs to watch them, don't you think? She looked at me, bewildered.
"Your backyard is fenced in," she pointed out, as if that settled it. Well, yes, but I couldn't see the whole yard from the window. I hadn't generally let James outside on his own at that point. I knew he was able to climb over the fence to escape if he wanted to do so. My friend, on the other hand, had grown into having a 9-year-old, whose personality she knew well. She knew he wouldn't leave the yard, and he would keep the younger kids in check, as well, as they all wanted to be nearer to him. All the kids needed the fence for was to remind them of a boundary, which they wouldn't wish to or try to cross with the older kids around. She could no longer even remember needing to supervise a fenced-in yard herself. But, you don't gain that kind of knowledge or confidence overnight, and you don't always get it unless you look for it.
I have reflected on this a lot lately as the kids have been so anxious to stretch their wings. Maggie and James started swim team last week, with practices after school at the Calvin pool, just a few blocks from our house. After a few weeks of the season last year, we let James (then just newly 9 years) take himself to the pool on his bike. This year, I was happy to do the same. However, Maggie starts 30 minutes later, and I wasn't as sure about her at not yet 7 years old. She begged to be allowed to ride her bike, so I agreed that I would follow her, walking with Helen and John.
As we set out, tragedy struck. John wiped out, and the skinned knee revealed (GASP) blood! Due to his fatigued state, he had a meltdown and refused to ride or walk. So, I buckled Helen in the carseat, put John in his booster, and set off down the street to check on Maggie. By the time I caught up to her, she was waiting at the corner, trying to decipher the traffic patterns to continue. She had completed the sidewalked part of the route, and was left with a short distance to cover on the side of a quiet, neighborhood, street (with no sidewalk). I rolled down the windown and verbally helped her cross the street, then idled along behind her, just close enough to block any traffic from coming up on her. I did get some funny looks as people watched the big van slowly following the young child on a bike, but I got her to the pool safely.
Then, on Saturday, the kids were anxious to go to the park/playground. It is just two blocks away, with only one very quiet street to cross. Jeremy was getting ready to go to work (attending commencement) and Helen had just fallen asleep. Since she so rarely gets to have an uninterrupted nap, I hated to disturb her. So, I took a deep breath and decided to consciously let them grow up a little bit. I said they could go to the park on their own as long as all three of them stayed together the whole time. They were so excited they were quivering.
I pointed out that they would need to eat lunch first, and they asked if they could pack a picnic to take with them. They gleefully packed up their own lunch. James delighted in being the official peanut butter sandwich maker, as this is a task he takes great pride in doing. Likewise, Maggie cut apple slices - her specialty. They threw in a bag of potato chips (though here I intervened and suggested putting just some in a rigid container, figuring it would salvage a few chips for the trip, and limit the quantities consumed). They asked me for a picnic blanket, and off they went on bikes and scooters, for the adventure.
Jeremy finished getting ready and had about 20 minutes to spare. I decided to leave him with the sleeping Helen and go check on the kids. When I arrived, they had eaten their lunches (although John's was woefully long on chips and short on apples and sandwich), packed everything up neatly, and were pushing each other on the merry-go-round. I played a few minutes then asked if they wanted to walk back home with me so that Jeremy could go to work.
"No! Can't we stay?" Well, why not? They were doing so well. Just as I was leaving, on a whim, I pulled out my cell phone and handed it to James. "Why don't you keep this?" I showed him how to call me at home. I asked him to either be home in 30 minutes, or call to tell me they were staying longer. At least that way, I would have a set time when I could begin to worry.
I walked home, Helen woke up to nurse, Jeremy left, and I, feeling smug and pleased with my newly-grown-up and self-reliant kids, settled down with a mug of tea in a quiet house. And then the phone rang, not 10 minutes after I had left the park. The first thing I heard was the screaming. "Mom? Maggie fell off the monkey bars. I think she broke her jaw! She can't move it and there is blood everywhere."
I quickly established with James the essentials. Maggie was conscious, and could walk. I therefore determined she would make it without a 911 call. I instructed James to simply keep Maggie quiet until I could get there. My mind went into the cool, detached, emergency mode. "Hmm, might not be able to stop back here if we have to go the emergency room. The diaper bag is empty. Gather up diapers. Grab the carrier. No, wait, need the car. Buckle Helen in carseat. Where is my wallet? Wait, Maggie will probably need to be cleaned up. Roll of paper towels. Wet washcloth." I actually got out the door with amazing speed, considering.
I heard them before I saw them. Maggie was still screaming rather hysterically. She was quite a sight - blood and mucus dripping off her nose, her shirt dirty and wet, her har matted to her face. Fortunately, I could see right away that she was more scared than injured. That was a relief as I struggled with lugging Helen and her carseat across the mud and grass between the road and the bench where the 3 older kids sat. I set about helping Maggie to wipe off and calm down.
An elderly couple approached to see if help was needed - it turns out that James had seen them in the parking lot while waiting for me and asked if they could get him into the adjacent school to help clean Maggie up. They couldn't, but were checking in now to be sure that things were under control. (And perhaps to report my license plate to the police for leaving these kids untended?) Okay, so that wasn't quite what I had told James to do, but reasonably responsible, under the circumstances.
I sat with Maggie for a few moments while she collected herself, and the story came out in bits and pieces. Trust a 3-year-old to break the ice. "James didn't push her. It just wiggled a lot." It seems she fell because the kids were playing tag, and somehow both of them continued the game onto the monkey bars. Maggie climbed to sit on the top (8-10 feet up) to hide from James, who snuck up behind her and jumped to tag her, surprising her into falling off. I bit off the urge to scold. Obviously they had both already figured out that this was not a very wise idea.
James really had been trying to help. He had gotten Maggie to the bench. He had tried to clean her up, as all the blood was upsetting her. (The water bottle he had poured all over her face explained some of the condition of her t-shirt, not to mention her streaked-looking face.)
I helped Maggie limp to the car, which was made more awkward by the weight of Helen's carseat. We drove around the school to load up Maggie's bike, then James offered to escort John home on their bikes. Everyone got bathed, and changed, and settled in for a quiet snack. At first, I berated myself. Obviously, I blew that one. The first time I decided that they were old enough to go the park on their own, and look what happens. If I had been with them, I would have stopped a game of tag played on the monkey bars.
Then again, if I had stopped them, they never would have believed me that it was dangerous. They would have just tried it some other time, when they were alone and out of my control. And who is to say I would have noticed what they were doing in time to stop it? Mom was right - I need to make them safe for the world, because I can't keep their world safe forever. And after all, they did pretty well. They stuck together. They took care of each other. John didn't run away during all the commotion. They all got home safely. Maybe not such a terrible decision on my part, after all.
Yes, sometimes, letting go has to be a deliberate decision to let them grow up a little. And I think they did.
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