Month: November 2015

A Miracle Has Occurred, But I Still Feel Terrible

Chris Irvine, Parent CoachLeave a comment

Somehow or other Maddie changed her mind and went to school. I was about to say “I got her to go to school” but we all know ultimately Maddie is the one in charge. It was three hours into the school day by the time we left, but a half day is better than no day at all.

After a day of trying to be zen about this whole thing yesterday, today I just didn’t have it in me. So I played hardball with Maddie. After I sent the cab driver on his way, I took away access to all electronics. She didn’t like that. I wouldn’t engage in light conversation. “I’m not talking to you,” I said when she initiated small talk, trying to smooth things over. I even emailed the educational consultant to follow up on boarding schools, and she watched me do it. Today I’m feeling like I can’t do this anymore. Maybe somebody else can instead.

“Can I have my stuff back?” Maddie asked.

“No,” I laughed, incredulously. “You didn’t go to school.”

“Well, when can I get it back?”

“When you have gone to school.”

“What if I go to school today?” she queried.

“Well, then I’ll give you something back. I’m leaving in three minutes,” I said, “to go to the chiropractor. If you’re ready to go in three minutes, I’ll take you to school instead. I’ll put your lunch together and then I’m leaving.” I was very matter-of-fact. I meant it. I wanted her to go to school so much, but I was done lobbying. Plus, even though I was perfectly willing to skip my appointment, it had to be for something as big as driving her to school.

So when she said she was almost ready, I sent off a quick text to Dr. Marc, canceling my appointment.

I love my chiropractor. He’s not your usual “crack, crack, see ya” kind of guy. An appointment with Dr. Marc lasts a whole hour and involves only deep massage along the spine (or whatever you need) and a few pops with that triangular adjusty thing. If you have jaw problems, like I did a few years ago after taking a baseball to the temple, he’ll press some points inside your mouth that make you want to run through the door like in a quick cartoon escape, but it works. He’s gentle and kind and has so much sympathy. Seeing Dr. Marc is a form of therapy in a way. I could have really used a visit today. But I gave it up for Maddie.

A couple weeks ago I was in a bad way. My upper right side, including my neck and shoulder, was in so much pain. I thought maybe I had a pinched nerve from sleeping wrong. When I gave Dr. Marc my explanation, he looked at me uncertainly, as if waiting for more information. “I’ve been under a lot of stress, too,” I added.

“That would explain it,” he said, nodding sympathetically. “You carry the world up here,” he observed as he manipulated the area above my shoulder blades. Boy, is that the truth. There is everything I experience, right up there on my shoulders. I’m hunched forward at the shoulders all of the time. Apparently it’s from a fight or flight response to stressors. That makes so much sense to me.

Some years ago I had the sensation of a knife going from my chest straight through to my back. “Stress,” diagnosed my doctor. But his only suggestion was, “You’ve got to find a way to deal with this.”

I still haven’t figured that out. Wouldn’t that be magical if I could just “deal with it”? Every day I try to “deal with it.”

So this morning when I was pulling out of the high school parking lot after watching Maddie stroll toward the office to check in, I didn’t feel some huge sense of relief. I was glad she was at school for half the day, but the weight of it all is still with me.  I wish the chiropractor could remove that weight permanently, but all he can do is try to relieve the pain from the weight I can’t seem to shake. He is not the magic answer. I don’t know what is.

I also don’t know why Maddie changed her mind today. I’m glad she did. All the moms I know hate making lunches for their kids. I hate making lunches for my kids. I’m tired of it. But I would make 100 lunches a day rather than deal with this in the morning. I woke Maddie up at 6:30 and spent the next 3 1/2 hours trying to get her to school. This afternoon we’ll embark on homework and the shower that was supposed to happen yesterday. I hope she’s more cooperative, but I can’t count on that.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Life goes on. Deep breaths.

I Hate This Morning

Chris Irvine, Parent CoachLeave a comment

Remember that roller coaster ride I described in great detail last week? Well, I’m back on it. Big time. And not the fun part.

Last night as I was getting all philosophical about Maddie and parenting and life in general, I felt a great sense of peace. And a tiny sense of accomplishment. That feeling is hard to come by as a parent. How did I do today? Am I doing a decent job of raising a human? Beats me! I guess I’ll find out eventually.

Still, last night I felt so good about what I would oddly call a successful day. Normally I would say a successful day involves everybody going to school. At 7:45 in the morning, when both kids have departed, I feel both triumphant and completely relieved. It’s time for a huge exhale.

Yesterday, though, I redefined success, I suppose. I remained calm. I kept my cool. I retained my perspective. Yes, yesterday was all about perspective.

And then there was the clock thing. Even though Maddie didn’t finish most of what I’d asked her to do, I delighted in her sudden awareness of the clock. Small victories.

Today? Forget it. Maddie said no again. For no reason. I’m not going to school, she decided. And there you have it.

I could feel the tension rising in my chest. Both tears of frustration and a sense of rage started boiling up inside me. Deep breaths have been required this morning. Lots of them. It is so hard not to feel defeated in the most literal sense of the word. Defeated and deflated: those are the words that come to mind in moments like this.

I brought up the boarding school thing again. It’s definitely not on Maddie’s mind on a morning like this. She hugged her cat and pretended not to hear me. But I know she did. Her message was basically “talk to the hand.” I guess her idea is that if she doesn’t make eye contact, I must assume the message isn’t getting through. But I know she heard me.

It was all I could do to refrain from yelling. I’m that mad. Again with the deep breaths.

But then I had a little epiphany. I keep bringing up boarding school as if I’ll be making the choice for her. I will be making that choice in a way. But really it’s her choices that are leading the way.

“Maddie, every time you cut school, you are getting one step closer to boarding school,” I said. “If you can’t get up and go to school, you will have to live at school. And each time you stay home without permission, you are making a choice.”

I want her to know she’s in control of this situation. She has the power to stay here and continue at what is really a lovely school. Or she can send the message that she’s willing to give that up and move away.

I reluctantly admit I’m somewhat ambivalent about this prospect. I feel a knife in my heart when I think of Maddie not living here. Who will take care of her when she’s sick? Who will hug her every night and every morning and throughout the day and tell her how wonderful she is? That’s my job, and I’m good at it!

But the truth is, it would be such a relief. My mornings wouldn’t begin with a deep feeling of anxiety and dread. I could spend more of my energy on things I enjoy. Parenting Maddie is exhausting and stressful. What if I handed that off to somebody who’s both more qualified for this and less emotionally invested? The deep breathing might involve more inhaling joy than exhaling pain.

There is hope, though, at least for the immediate future.

“I want Dad to wake me up,” Maddie suggested.

“Every morning?”

“Yes.”

That would be the gift of a lifetime: handing off this relentlessly stressful task to somebody else. Maddie’s dynamic with Jake is so different. She loves to take on a character, and he magically knows how to interact with her that way. I’m baffled by this scenario, and she knows it.

Also, he doesn’t get up each morning with 15 years of frustration with her on his shoulders and in his brain, waiting to spring forth at the first hint that she might refuse to cooperate. For me, each moment is fraught with the pain of all those years of experience. She has been, after all, my 24/7 job since the day she was born.

At my request, he has made an attempt to get her moving. Better late than not at all. She wasn’t responsive. We have passed the point of decision, and it’s nearly impossible to redirect now. Even for Jake. I’m not optimistic.

So what do I do? I haven’t cried today. You know I don’t cry much at all. There aren’t any tears, but my eyes have that burning, heavy feeling you get when you cry. My head hurts. I feel the heaviness in my face, too, my mouth turned down in a sad frown. Maybe I really am crying–on the inside. It feels like that.

I am working on letting this go, as I so graciously and effortlessly (well, not really) did yesterday. The idea that Maddie is making the choice, and removing the burden from myself, sounds so smart and wise and evolved. I want to hold onto that. I’m not sure how to do it, though.

Because the truth is, at some point I have to decide that she has made her choice. I will have to find the school for her. I will have to make that happen. It’s not quite as easy as it sounds, this letting go. Because I’m still the mom. And she’s still the child.

I’m breathing deeply. I’m waiting. I’m hoping, but I’m not really that hopeful in the moment. This is going to be a long day.

Special Appearance

Chris Irvine, Parent CoachLeave a comment

First, let me start by saying I’m kind of proud of myself. I let go today. For today, anyway. This is an internal struggle that rears its ugly head on a regular basis. I’m fighting the urge to engage in an un-winnable battle. A battle that shouldn’t be fought at all, really. The real victory in this particular conflict comes in letting go. This is becoming a theme for this year. Letting go. Just a couple years too late for the theme song. Oh, well!

When Maddie announced she had no intention of going to school, I simply closed her bedroom door and then proceeded to call the district’s transportation manager so he could cancel the cab stops for today. I was filled with both anxiety over yet another missed day of school and utter relief that I was able to just accept what was happening so much more readily than usual. Maybe I’m making progress.

I did require Maddie to accomplish a few things today, though. She took the morning off, and then later in the afternoon I announced she would have to read for 30 minutes, complete her science homework from the night before, and take a shower. In typical Maddie fashion, she said “okay,” but without a lot of commitment in her voice. I’m not stupid. I know she’s just saying what I want to hear. She didn’t mean it at all.

Since we were both hanging out in my room at the time, she willingly got out her book and read 30 pages. How relaxing! I asked her to do something, and she did it! I love it when that happens. Shortly after that I was scheduled to leave for a couple hours to celebrate a friend’s birthday. Just a short outing with some lady friends for a drink or two.

Then home again. Imagine my utter un-surprise when I got home to find Maddie scrunched down in my bed watching TV, with her backpack still zipped up by her side, and her hair an oily mess. Seven o’clock at night and no science homework completed. No shower taken. It’s amazing how I can be disappointed by the very thing I expect. Perhaps a part of me was secretly optimistic. I can’t imagine why.

I turned off the TV and she went in her room with her backpack where she settled in to pet her sweet cat Daisy. “Get started on your science NOW,” I said calmly and firmly. “I’m going to check on you in two minutes. You’d better be working.”

When I returned to make sure science homework was underway, Maddie asked me to stay. Her assignment was to read a chapter in her textbook and answer some questions. I thought perhaps I could speed things along if I took dictation. I read some news online while she read the chapter, and when she was ready to work, I opened Google Docs and began to type.

Maddie efficiently answered the first two questions, giving articulate, succinct explanations. I just typed. The third question was much trickier. We both looked over the material and couldn’t figure out exactly how to answer, but I made a general suggestion and she took it. Onto question four.

It was getting late, but I really wanted her to finish. By this time I had given up on the shower. Oh, well.

And then the unimaginable happened.

“I don’t think I can finish,” Maddie said.

“You only have three more questions,” I said. “We can do it.”

“No, I don’t think I can.”

“Are you too tired?”

“No, I’m worried about the time. I need to go to bed so I can get up in the morning.”

So who was the special guest this evening? The clock. My child looked at the clock, assigned significance to the time, and made a decision based on both the time and future consequences. My mind is officially blown. What. Is. Happening.

Tonight as we were getting ready for bed, I relayed this sequence of events to my husband Jake. He, of course, understood the momentous nature of this little anecdote. “Maybe she…” he began. And then he stopped. Maybe nothing. Maybe now she’ll start taking interest in time passing. Maybe she’s turning over a new leaf. Maybe she will prioritize and make good decisions.

Sure she will. Sometimes. Unpredictably. And mostly not. I know better than to think that one moment like this is a breakthrough.

“Light!” Jake reminded me. Yes, just like the time she said “light” and then nothing at all for six more months. Exactly. Sometimes Maddie does something so surprising and wonderful, and we can delight in it for a little while. But that’s where it stops. Appreciate those moments, and know if you expect the same thing next time, you will most likely be disappointed. So just don’t. Enjoy  now. Enjoy this. The end.

Occasionally people say such kind things to me after reading my blog. Even before I started writing, a common compliment to me was, “You’re so patient” or even “You’re an amazing mom.”

Well, all of us moms work hard at this parenting thing. And I have put–and continue to put–a tremendous amount of effort into honing both my skills as Maddie’s mom (and as mom to my son as well) but also, and perhaps even more so, my philosophy on life as a result. They are completely intertwined. How I look at life and the world and myself and people and kindness and love and forgiveness guide how I choose to be with Maddie. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Either way, every single day it is a choice. It often does not come easily to me to be calm and loving and accepting. Often it takes every ounce of mental energy I have not to be angry, not to fight. I don’t always succeed. At all.

But every day I learn. Every day I am getting better at this. Every day I am working toward something, and the more I think about it, the more I wonder if what I’m working toward is just as much a better me as it is a better Maddie.

I don’t know when our special guest, the clock, will make a second appearance. I’m not even going to think about it. I’m going to feel happy it happened today. I’m going to feel good about myself for staying calm and being loving. I’m going to feel grateful that at least Maddie got some of her science work done and then still got a good night’s sleep, even though she ran out of time to shower. I am going to hold onto the feeling of snuggling with her in bed, of her loving hug, of her forehead on my lips because she still lets me kiss her goodnight.

A New Addition

Chris Irvine, Parent Coach1 Comment

The big news around here these days is that we have an additional member of the household. And, yes, she is human. (Two dogs and two cats is enough, don’t you think?) It’s been a few months in the making, and the day has finally arrived. Our lives are enhanced with the fifth member of our family!

My niece, Rachel, has to come live with us while she transitions from the Central Coast to the Bay Area. She’s a fabulous 22-year-old young lady whom I have adored since the moment it was announced that she was coming to this earth. Of course I’d love her to stay here forever, but I know this is just stopping point on her way to bigger and better things.

Among all the many benefits of having Rachel here, it has occurred to me that this might have a positive effect on our kids’ behavior. My son probably won’t want her to think he’s a jerk, so maybe his teenager-y behavior will drop a notch or two. A friend mentioned Maddie might respond the same way. After all, Rachel and her two siblings have long been the object of my kids’ admiration. They are a trio of fun, lively, loving people. Excellent choices of people to emulate.

But I know better. Maddie loves Rachel and is so happy to have her here. “It’ll be like having a sister!” she recently told me. “And I’ve always wanted a sister.”

Well, I guess that’s truer than I might have originally thought. Do sisters try change their behavior to impress each other? Not in my experience. I have two sisters and don’t ever remember thinking about that!

While Maddie is interested in spending time with Rachel, and wants to share her imaginative costumes and other things that interest her, changing her own behavior just isn’t something that would occur to Maddie. She’s very much a “take-it-or-leave-it” kind of person, for better or for worse.

Rachel arrived yesterday afternoon. Instead of retreating to her room, Maddie accompanied Rachel, me, and the dogs to my friend’s house around the corner for puppy play time. That’s new. She also elected to hang out with us, eat dinner, and help Rachel with a project, all instead of her usual Minecraft time. What a wonderful change! Maddie was engaged and happy, and still cooperative at bed time.

But today we are back to normal. I’m not one bit surprised that Maddie is in bed instead of in the cab on her way to school. I sort of expected this yesterday because of the Halloween festivities. One big night and she can be wiped out for days to follow. So here we are again on a Tuesday (I now hate Tuesdays too), and Maddie simply said “No” when it came time to get up. No “I’m tired” or “I need some more sleep.” Just a flat refusal with no explanation. She has chosen to stay home. The pronouncement has been made. End of story.

Does Maddie care what Rachel will think about that? Apparently not. Of course, Rachel doesn’t actually have a judgment about Maddie. She loves Maddie just as she is. Maybe Maddie knows that. But really I think that whole concept of how she’s perceived by other people isn’t part of her make-up, again for better or for worse.

Maybe next time I should point this out. “Don’t you want Rachel to see what a good kid you are?” I could say. Now that I see those words typed out, I see how ridiculous the concept is. Maddie really just won’t care. Maddie’s initials are MEH. Who knew how prophetic those letters would become? If “meh” isn’t her motto, I don’t know what is. (Okay, once she said it was “Toast is life,” but I think “meh” covers more territory.)

I still have a tiny bit of hope that somehow Rachel will have a positive influence on Maddie. Maybe it won’t be quite so calculated. Maybe Maddie will simply rise up. Maybe there will be something in Rachel that Maddie wants to emulate. Or, more likely, Maddie’s interest in spending time with Rachel will bring her out of her room a bit more. And maybe more social time will somehow help Maddie develop. Who knows.

Maybe Rachel just being her wonderful self will give Maddie some extra confidence, some inspiration, and most certainly a bit more love.

One of the great things about family is how (if you’re lucky, as I am) they get you. That has certainly been true for my kids. Nobody has treated my kids with more compassion and a deep understanding and appreciation than our family.

What somebody else might see as a quirk or a challenge, they see as a gift, something to be celebrated.

So maybe that’s what we’ll all get out of having Rachel around! Just another layer of love and appreciation.

I can’t say with a straight face that I’m not a little excited about shopping with my niece, getting our nails done, planning and preparing meals together, etc. She’s going to be a great pal to have around, although my wish for her is to build a group of friends her age–even though I like to consider myself young (i.e. immature) for my age.

However this all turns out, I know that having Rachel around for awhile is a privilege. We will make the most of it!