I have a child with behavior problems.
I've been hesitant to share anything about it "publicly", although I've alluded to it at times in Instagram posts, because I don't want to make myself out to be a victim, and complain publicly about my own child. But in my entire life, I have never experienced something as isolating as the life we've been living for the past couple of years.
It's become increasingly clear to me that we live in a world where (possibly because we've come to see children as somewhat of an accessory, or an upgrade to the next adult-y phase of life) if our children succeed, or are "good" it is a reflection of our "goodness" as parents. If our children struggle, sin, or are less than perfect, it s a reflection that we have somehow failed as parents.
I can't even begin to say how many moments over the course of the past three years I've felt like a failure. I would wager that I feel like a failure every single day.
My child hasn't been formally diagnosed yet, but our doctor thinks it is probably a combination of ADHD and ODD. He is a sweet boy. He is fun, and funny, and loving and creative. He is polite and friendly to strangers, outgoing and inquisitive and full of energy.
But there is another side of him that comes out when his frustration hits a high that is completely unlike anything I imagined dealing with as a mom.
When you think about becoming a parent, you just don't even picture the possibility of your child having violent tantrums, telling you repeatedly that he hates you, that you aren't his mom, that he has never cared about you...hitting and kicking and spitting in your face. Children are so innocent? How would a 5 year old even learn those behaviors?
What kind of parent lets those kinds of behaviors rule their homes?
Shouldn't consistency, and good positive discipline fix these problems?
Meanwhile, I can barely even remember isolated incidents of me having to physically restrain my own kid to keep him from hurting me, or a sibling. I can't remember specific incidents, because it has happened so many times. I just have this blurry memory in my mind of all of those moments blended together... of my other children watching me from the safety of another room while I attempt to reason with/ calm down/ physically restrain my screaming and flailing child without getting headbutted in the face again. Thinking...how the heck did we get here?
Where did my mothering go so horribly wrong?
The depth of my identity crisis knows know bounds. This is not the kind of mother I thought I'd be. It isn't the kind of family life I dreamed we'd have. I used to be patient, and compassionate, and calm didn't I? I always thought so. But I feel as though I'm being proven wrong every single day. Am I really this person?
He does mostly well in school. Compared to what I was picturing in my head before he started Kindergarten, the few incidents he has had haven't been all that bad, and for the most part there aren't any problems. I am so glad for that. Except for the fact that it makes it even more difficult to find support, or commiseration, or to even talk to other people about what we are going through, because the worst of it is happening behind the closed doors of our house, with no one here to witness it but me.
He is so polite in public (mostly), to other parents from school, and to teachers, and so friendly. Who is going to believe me that the second he got into the car and heard that we weren't going to the park today he started telling me repeatedly that he hates me and slaps his sister?
One counselor that we saw briefly, and will hopefully never ever see again, did his darndest to dash even the little bit of positivity I tried to have about my son's behavior. When I told this doctor that he does well in school and that his behaviors present mostly at home, he assured me that "oh, the time is coming. This WILL come out at school...he will start to get into trouble, and things will just get worse and worse. It's only a matter of time."
Oh. Wonderful. Thank you for your encouragement. After fifteen minutes with this doctor, he asked if I was ready to start my son on medication. Needless to say, we won't be seeing that guy again.
I'm writing this on the heels of my husband being out of town overnight, and having a very hard 36 hours with my son. I couldn't even begin to count the number of times just in the past day that I've heard how horrible I am, and how much my kid hates me. The fights I've broken up between my son and daughter, who I feel I am also failing with my inability to keep her safe and to reign in her very familiar looking behaviors, are either an indication that she has picked up too many bad habits from her brother, or that she is headed down the same path.
It's just too much. I am terrified that if I share this, I will be judged for not doing x,y,z....or that I will be given the same trite pieces of advice that I feel I hear over and over again. Yes we've tried behavior charts (he doesn't care). He also doesn't care (nor will he actually participate in), time outs, or being "told that a certain behavior is not acceptable." He cannot be reasoned with. I'm sure there are a bazillion special diets we could put him on that might help in some way, but honestly...I am so tired and emotionally spent by all of this, the idea of revamping my entire families diet by going gluten free is just one thing too many for me to handle. I'm afraid someone will look at my situation and question why we are having another baby, when clearly we are failing so miserably at meeting this very pressing need of a child that we already have.
I am desperate for an answer, but I don't want any more advice. I am mortified, and want us all to just curl up in our house and never have anyone know what we are going through, but I also am SO desperate to have someone in my life say "Me too." Because, thus far, no one has said it. I don't know how to meet other parents whose children are struggling this way. Doesn't everyone just want to present a happy face and make everything look fine to the people around them? I'm sure I've gotten pretty good at it.
The internet has glimmers of hope for me. Penny Williams podcast "The ADHD parenting podcast" was the first time I felt like someone really knew the situation and understood. I would urge anyone who is helping to care for a child with ADHD or other similar disorders to check it out.
I don't want this post to sound like it's all about me, although sometimes, when I am feeling so heartbroken as I am now, it is very easy to focus in on my own struggles. I know that the person is who truly struggling the most here is my son.
Today at the park he bumped his lip, and came to me for help. He was trying not to cry, and he buried his head in my shoulder, sniffling. I have to be honest, my heart leapt for joy for just a second. Here he was hurt, coming to me for comfort. Could there be a more natural mother-child interaction? I was so happy that he had come to me. But when I asked him if I could see the hurt, he pushed me and scowled at me to "get away!." He tried a few more times to lean into me, and then ended up getting angry with me for trying to comfort him. He was so conflicted... he just didn't know what to do with his feelings at all. I'm crying even as I type all that. It seems like such a small thing.
But every small thing that happens just feels so monumental when they all stack up together.
I don't know if I will share this blog post with anyone. I know that no one will just stumble across it. But I'm writing it because no one has told me that we aren't alone in this. That we aren't the only ones experiencing this kind of trial with one of our kids. I am imagining (selfishly, maybe even hoping) that there is someone else out there who might need to hear these words, or even just hear about someone else's experience so that they can know they aren't alone. Some mom sitting somewhere, feeling so lonely, whose at the beginning of this journey and has no idea what the heck she's supposed to do. Who doesn't need to hear about medication options, or discipline tactics, or therapies, or or or... but needs to hear someone say "your kid is good. All is not lost. You're doing the best you can, and it can be enough for now."
I need to hear it, so I'm telling it to myself. And I'm telling it to you.
Thursday, March 15, 2018
Wednesday, November 8, 2017
A long, long post about preschool for my kids
Our family has had a complicated relationship with preschool. When our oldest was 3 we sent him to preschool at our parish school. We weren't quite sure what the compelling reasons were for sending him, we just thought it would be good for him. I was pregnant at the time and also had a 2 year old. He ended up doing really well, despite our worries over his behavioral problems at home, and he really enjoyed going to school those two mornings a week. We, however, didn't love the school, and had heard through the grapevine that the school was probably going to be closing in the near future. So at the end of that year, we decided we wouldn't be sending him back. We toured a few other schools, but I just really could not wrap my mind around any of them. So we didn't make a decision. And then we still didn't make a decision. Until finally we realized that the decision that we *had* made was actually that we would be keeping him at home the following year.
I had been going back and forth in my mind already about whether or not we would end up being a homeschool family, or send our kids to a traditional brick and mortar school. Truthfully, before kids, I swore up and down that I would *never* homeschool and I could see us thriving much better in a traditional setting. But somehow once we started actually considering the very real possibilities, I fell in love with the idea of what homeschooling *could* be. And so that year when our oldest was 4 I decided to try it. And by try it, I mean, moderately ease into doing some "preschool type stuff" at home with more intentionality, to see if I thought it was something we could actually pursue.
So I planned ahead. I bought a very cute and non-stressful looking Catholic preschool curriculum, and some materials and started off on a pretty strong foot. The wrench in the plan was....life. It was a very difficult year for our family. Having our oldest at home was such a blessing. It felt like it might be (and actually did probably turn out to be) the last year our child would be at home with no other commitments, and not in school 8 hours a day. I tried to cherish it, and make the most of it. But his behavioral problems at home ratcheted up to an all time high, and we weren't keeping up with our work the way that I had wanted to. In the end we ended up scrapping everything non-essential, and focused on working through a reading cirriculum. We made it about halfway through before I could tell that he had had enough and wasn't ready to progress.
That spring we had a big decision to make. Did I feel like I could go on to homeschool him for Kindergarten, or did we think it would be best to send him to school?
Obviously, we ended up opting to send him to our wonderful Catholic school, and it was unequivocally the right choice for him. He has thrived in that environment in a way that we only could have hoped.
But that year of keeping him at home taught me a lot. And one of the things it taught me was that it was *okay* for us to not send our kids to traditional preschool. I truly believe that there is nothing wrong with sending kids to preschool. It was a valuable experience for our oldest son that year he was three. But it was also a financial burden, and doing it just because "that's what people do" didn't ring true for me, and that's pretty much why we did it. It also taught me that, if you end up not sending your kid to preschool, that doesn't mean you have to overcompensate by somehow recreating the experience at home. I am not the kind of person who has the gifts or the patience to craft with my kids, and I am also a person who is easily overwhelmed. It just hasn't worked for me so far.
And now here I am, with my oldest in kindergarten, and another preschooler hanging out in my house. Our daughter is about to turn four, and I *do* have a desire to start teaching her more intentionally. Slowly (and mostly because she really wants to be able to do the things her older brother can do) we've started working on letter and number identification, and writing her name. I'm also trying to hammer home the *actual* words to the Hail Mary and the Our Father, in hopes that we can get our act together enough as a family to start a family rosary (or a family decade). And...that's it. And while I'm always on the lookout for ideas, and ways to connect her with the things I'd like her to learn, I am also taking it incredibly slowly with her, and I'm more confident this time around that that is okay.
She won't be in kindergarten for another two years. We are toying with the idea of sending her to the new preschool that just opened at our son's school, for maybe a few mornings a week. We do have another baby coming in June, and sending her might be a really good thing for everyone involved. But we also might not. But I've learned that as hard as it can be only having little kids at home, I really cherish the years when ALL that you NEED to do is just keep them with you, and love on them at home. Those years actually *do* end. I know, because now I have a child who spends most of his waking hours at school, without me, and boy is it bittersweet.
I had been going back and forth in my mind already about whether or not we would end up being a homeschool family, or send our kids to a traditional brick and mortar school. Truthfully, before kids, I swore up and down that I would *never* homeschool and I could see us thriving much better in a traditional setting. But somehow once we started actually considering the very real possibilities, I fell in love with the idea of what homeschooling *could* be. And so that year when our oldest was 4 I decided to try it. And by try it, I mean, moderately ease into doing some "preschool type stuff" at home with more intentionality, to see if I thought it was something we could actually pursue.
So I planned ahead. I bought a very cute and non-stressful looking Catholic preschool curriculum, and some materials and started off on a pretty strong foot. The wrench in the plan was....life. It was a very difficult year for our family. Having our oldest at home was such a blessing. It felt like it might be (and actually did probably turn out to be) the last year our child would be at home with no other commitments, and not in school 8 hours a day. I tried to cherish it, and make the most of it. But his behavioral problems at home ratcheted up to an all time high, and we weren't keeping up with our work the way that I had wanted to. In the end we ended up scrapping everything non-essential, and focused on working through a reading cirriculum. We made it about halfway through before I could tell that he had had enough and wasn't ready to progress.
That spring we had a big decision to make. Did I feel like I could go on to homeschool him for Kindergarten, or did we think it would be best to send him to school?
Obviously, we ended up opting to send him to our wonderful Catholic school, and it was unequivocally the right choice for him. He has thrived in that environment in a way that we only could have hoped.
But that year of keeping him at home taught me a lot. And one of the things it taught me was that it was *okay* for us to not send our kids to traditional preschool. I truly believe that there is nothing wrong with sending kids to preschool. It was a valuable experience for our oldest son that year he was three. But it was also a financial burden, and doing it just because "that's what people do" didn't ring true for me, and that's pretty much why we did it. It also taught me that, if you end up not sending your kid to preschool, that doesn't mean you have to overcompensate by somehow recreating the experience at home. I am not the kind of person who has the gifts or the patience to craft with my kids, and I am also a person who is easily overwhelmed. It just hasn't worked for me so far.
And now here I am, with my oldest in kindergarten, and another preschooler hanging out in my house. Our daughter is about to turn four, and I *do* have a desire to start teaching her more intentionally. Slowly (and mostly because she really wants to be able to do the things her older brother can do) we've started working on letter and number identification, and writing her name. I'm also trying to hammer home the *actual* words to the Hail Mary and the Our Father, in hopes that we can get our act together enough as a family to start a family rosary (or a family decade). And...that's it. And while I'm always on the lookout for ideas, and ways to connect her with the things I'd like her to learn, I am also taking it incredibly slowly with her, and I'm more confident this time around that that is okay.
She won't be in kindergarten for another two years. We are toying with the idea of sending her to the new preschool that just opened at our son's school, for maybe a few mornings a week. We do have another baby coming in June, and sending her might be a really good thing for everyone involved. But we also might not. But I've learned that as hard as it can be only having little kids at home, I really cherish the years when ALL that you NEED to do is just keep them with you, and love on them at home. Those years actually *do* end. I know, because now I have a child who spends most of his waking hours at school, without me, and boy is it bittersweet.
10 Weeks and counting
Woo wee, I had the best of intentions in starting this blog, that I would be able to use it as a good outlet for myself, and I was hoping to stay consistent with it. But...the first trimester does things to you.
Yes. We're pregnant. Baby number four!
I don't even know where to begin with everything that's changed around here in the last couple months. But I'll say this: This baby was a bit of a surprise.
If i back up about a month and a half before I got the positive pregnancy test, I find myself out at a bar with a girlfriend, telling her about how I accidentally dropped my phone in the toilet, and subsequently lost alllll of my NFP charts, which were not backed up. She joked that I would probably get pregnant the following month. And I totally did.
I knew something was up when I got 8 days of positive ovulation tests in a row that month (Just an FYI, we use a super scientific- NOT- method of NFP where we are conservative with days and I take some ovulation tests a couple days there in the middle of my cycle, and we usually discern correctly which days are safe and which ones aren't). Silly as that method of NFP sounds, and no NFP instructor on EARTH would approve of it, it had been working successfully for us, since my cycles are regular, and we almost made it a year of successfully postponing another pregnancy, which is our longest stretch to date.
Oddly enough, we had also just sat down and had a big heart to heart about the state of our family, and our need to postpone another baby, possibly for a couple of years. It was a difficult thing for me to come to grips with, but mostly because I am just so darn used to being pregnant, and thinking about entering a new phase was freaking me out. Also, I am the one who tends more towards making sure we are being generous, and Pat is the one who tends more towards making sure we are being prudent. But I had come to accept that it might be a while before another baby.
Imagine my surprise to see that positive pregnancy test. Don't get me wrong, I am always excited to see it. But every other time it hasn't been quite as...well, surprising.
It's definitely been a roller coaster ride accepting the reality of this pregnancy. There were a few weeks there where after I got that positive test, I went off of my anti-anxiety medication for the sake of the pregnancy, and tanked hard. I was not coping with life even a fraction as well as I had been on that medication, and I was downright upset that while this new baby (an exciting, joyful thing, but also a big life change) had been placed into our lives, an important coping mechanism had been taken off of my plate. I eventually did decide with my doctor to go back on my medication, because...well. I still have three kids outside my body and a husband and myself to take care of for the next nine months, and white knuckling my way through this pregnancy without my meds didn't seem like a smart choice.
As time goes on I am more and more excited, and I think the thing that really brought it all home for me was telling the kids. Isn't that always the most stressful thing? It is for me at least: how will the kids react? How will this new baby affect them? Will they be excited?
The kids (well, the older two) were absolutely thrilled. My five year old gave me a big hug and told me how "proud he was" of me for having a new baby in my tummy. My three year old is very excited about all the things she will get to do with the new baby (feeding it milk, tucking it into bed, hopefully learning to be gentle in the next 8 months so she doesn't smother it), and wonders regularly where we will put it because, do we have room in our house?
Our youngest, who will be 2 in February literally has no idea, but is making me wonder whether or not he can sense that something big is coming down the pike, by waking up constantly in the middle of the night to scream my name and the refusing to go back to sleep.
I feel so blessed and so thrilled to be adding this new life into the mix of our crazy family.
6 years of marriage. 4 moves. 4 job changes. 4 babies!!
Yes. We're pregnant. Baby number four!
I don't even know where to begin with everything that's changed around here in the last couple months. But I'll say this: This baby was a bit of a surprise.
If i back up about a month and a half before I got the positive pregnancy test, I find myself out at a bar with a girlfriend, telling her about how I accidentally dropped my phone in the toilet, and subsequently lost alllll of my NFP charts, which were not backed up. She joked that I would probably get pregnant the following month. And I totally did.
I knew something was up when I got 8 days of positive ovulation tests in a row that month (Just an FYI, we use a super scientific- NOT- method of NFP where we are conservative with days and I take some ovulation tests a couple days there in the middle of my cycle, and we usually discern correctly which days are safe and which ones aren't). Silly as that method of NFP sounds, and no NFP instructor on EARTH would approve of it, it had been working successfully for us, since my cycles are regular, and we almost made it a year of successfully postponing another pregnancy, which is our longest stretch to date.
Oddly enough, we had also just sat down and had a big heart to heart about the state of our family, and our need to postpone another baby, possibly for a couple of years. It was a difficult thing for me to come to grips with, but mostly because I am just so darn used to being pregnant, and thinking about entering a new phase was freaking me out. Also, I am the one who tends more towards making sure we are being generous, and Pat is the one who tends more towards making sure we are being prudent. But I had come to accept that it might be a while before another baby.
Imagine my surprise to see that positive pregnancy test. Don't get me wrong, I am always excited to see it. But every other time it hasn't been quite as...well, surprising.
It's definitely been a roller coaster ride accepting the reality of this pregnancy. There were a few weeks there where after I got that positive test, I went off of my anti-anxiety medication for the sake of the pregnancy, and tanked hard. I was not coping with life even a fraction as well as I had been on that medication, and I was downright upset that while this new baby (an exciting, joyful thing, but also a big life change) had been placed into our lives, an important coping mechanism had been taken off of my plate. I eventually did decide with my doctor to go back on my medication, because...well. I still have three kids outside my body and a husband and myself to take care of for the next nine months, and white knuckling my way through this pregnancy without my meds didn't seem like a smart choice.
As time goes on I am more and more excited, and I think the thing that really brought it all home for me was telling the kids. Isn't that always the most stressful thing? It is for me at least: how will the kids react? How will this new baby affect them? Will they be excited?
The kids (well, the older two) were absolutely thrilled. My five year old gave me a big hug and told me how "proud he was" of me for having a new baby in my tummy. My three year old is very excited about all the things she will get to do with the new baby (feeding it milk, tucking it into bed, hopefully learning to be gentle in the next 8 months so she doesn't smother it), and wonders regularly where we will put it because, do we have room in our house?
Our youngest, who will be 2 in February literally has no idea, but is making me wonder whether or not he can sense that something big is coming down the pike, by waking up constantly in the middle of the night to scream my name and the refusing to go back to sleep.
I feel so blessed and so thrilled to be adding this new life into the mix of our crazy family.
6 years of marriage. 4 moves. 4 job changes. 4 babies!!
Friday, September 15, 2017
7QT: Kidergarten
1. I read on another mom's blog recently that she hates sending her kids to school all day, even though she knows that it's the right thing. It totally resonated with me. I know, without a doubt, that school is the right choice for my particular kid, for our particular family, at this particular time. But it kills me to not see him all day! If I could install a nanny cam in his classroom and stare at him on a monitor all day, I would. Ah, letting go.
2. Surprisingly, one of the most stressful parts of the transition for me is lunch. What the heck do I pack in my child's lunch?!?! I've never been super creative in the lunch department, so of course that wasn't going to change, but I can't bring myself to pack him a PB&J every single day...yet. I'm sure I'll get there though. I have no imagination.
3. Choosing traditional school over homeschooling was so hard for me. I've had a very clear image in my head, especially this whole past year, of how wonderful homeschooling would be, and I definitely had a strong desire to do it. But I feel at peace with the decision we made. One of the things I keep reminding myself is that we can STILL DO the things that are important to us with our kids. If something is a priority to me, I can make it happen. No one says I still can't teach him the things that are important to me, or read him books out loud, or any of the other things we love to do. And that's good.
4. Today I did my first volunteer duty as a mom of a school aged kid: recess/lunch duty. With a 3.5 year old and a 1.5 year old in tow. And I tell you what...it was just as tiring as it sounds. The supervising recess and lunch part was easy...the chasing after the toddler, where I ended up looking like a sweaty buffoon part was not so enjoyable. He will not be caged! But it was worth it to see how excited my big Kindergartner was to see us there, so I know I will be going back to do it all over again, naps be darned. #sucker
5. There really is this unseen, all in my mind, pressure to make sure I am doing all the things, and volunteering a lot, and getting involved. Those things are definitely good, but I have to keep reminding myself: it's okay for him to not play soccer this year so we can protect some of our family time. He's five. I have no obligation to kill myself being the best ever volunteer. Hope I can remember that as time goes on.
6. I feel so blessed that for my child's first ever year of school, his teacher is a lovely mom of seven daughters, two of whom went to my high school, and whose family I was already familiar with. Especially with everything he is going through this year, it is so good to have another mama looking out for him while he's at school. Those teachers...they deserve a medal. They work so hard. She wrote me an email recently and at the end she said "If I had a classroom full of kids like your son, I would go home happy every night...and I do!" Love her.
7. This. I cannot believe that I have a kindergartner. First time moms, today you're holding your newborn. Tomorrow, they will be in Kindergarten.
2. Surprisingly, one of the most stressful parts of the transition for me is lunch. What the heck do I pack in my child's lunch?!?! I've never been super creative in the lunch department, so of course that wasn't going to change, but I can't bring myself to pack him a PB&J every single day...yet. I'm sure I'll get there though. I have no imagination.
3. Choosing traditional school over homeschooling was so hard for me. I've had a very clear image in my head, especially this whole past year, of how wonderful homeschooling would be, and I definitely had a strong desire to do it. But I feel at peace with the decision we made. One of the things I keep reminding myself is that we can STILL DO the things that are important to us with our kids. If something is a priority to me, I can make it happen. No one says I still can't teach him the things that are important to me, or read him books out loud, or any of the other things we love to do. And that's good.
4. Today I did my first volunteer duty as a mom of a school aged kid: recess/lunch duty. With a 3.5 year old and a 1.5 year old in tow. And I tell you what...it was just as tiring as it sounds. The supervising recess and lunch part was easy...the chasing after the toddler, where I ended up looking like a sweaty buffoon part was not so enjoyable. He will not be caged! But it was worth it to see how excited my big Kindergartner was to see us there, so I know I will be going back to do it all over again, naps be darned. #sucker
5. There really is this unseen, all in my mind, pressure to make sure I am doing all the things, and volunteering a lot, and getting involved. Those things are definitely good, but I have to keep reminding myself: it's okay for him to not play soccer this year so we can protect some of our family time. He's five. I have no obligation to kill myself being the best ever volunteer. Hope I can remember that as time goes on.
6. I feel so blessed that for my child's first ever year of school, his teacher is a lovely mom of seven daughters, two of whom went to my high school, and whose family I was already familiar with. Especially with everything he is going through this year, it is so good to have another mama looking out for him while he's at school. Those teachers...they deserve a medal. They work so hard. She wrote me an email recently and at the end she said "If I had a classroom full of kids like your son, I would go home happy every night...and I do!" Love her.
7. This. I cannot believe that I have a kindergartner. First time moms, today you're holding your newborn. Tomorrow, they will be in Kindergarten.
Thursday, September 14, 2017
Introvert mom makes friends
It's been a weird friendship year for me. I don't think that anything could have really prepared me for being plunged into the post-college world of actually having to reach out to people and form friendships as an adult. Personally, I feel it has all the awkwardness and second-guessing of dating relationships. For a few years there, we moved so many times, that I didn't have time to over analyze my friendships, or get too worked up over our lack of community. But since moving back to my hometown, joining a parish, and starting our oldest off in kindergarten, we've had quite a lot of time to consider the kind of community we want to be a part of, and the kind of relationships we want to have. And here's the scoop: we have been bit lonely.
Making mom friends has been a struggle for me. I am an introvert, and a stay at home mom, which means I technically don't have to see other adults during the day. Even if you aren't those things, being a parent can just be plain lonely sometimes. Patrick and I were the first of our friends to get married, and start having kids, and there aren't many (or really any) couples in our lives who are far removed enough from the baby/toddler years to be mentors, but still close enough to offer real advice.
You see a mom across the aisle at church, or at the play place or the park, with kids the same age, and you wonder if you should strike up a conversation. Once you have, you start wondering if you should be the wackadoodle at the mall playground trolling for other mom's phone numbers, or if that is just going to make you appear completely desperate.
Insecure woman that I am, I also struggle with feeling like maybe I am the only one out there who needs friends, and maybe everyone else already has a strong support system, or a community in place.
I've come to a realization over the past few years however and it's this: You have to take a risk. You have to put yourself out there. Invite people over. Ask someone to coffee. Set up the play date. Just do something. Anything. Know that rejection is a possibility, but take the leap anyway. Here are a few things I've learned about making friends as an introvert, over-analyzing, anxious, stay at home mom:
1. Take a risk
You've been seeing a certain mom around town or church, or at the park for a while, and have chatted with her a time or two. Make a move, and ask to get together, or even just ask for her phone number or email. Reach out. Once you've made that first move, the ball is in the other person's court. But at least you know that you made the effort to connect.
2. Find common ground
One of my best mom friends is a woman I've only known about two years, but we were pregnant at the same time, and our oldest kids were in the same preschool class. Because of the pregnancies, we connected right away (complaining about having to walk up all the flights of stairs to the classroom), and our friendship really started when I took dinner to her house after her twins were born. We have had play dates or hung out together at least once every two weeks at the most since then. Let the kids, or the bellies, or the coffee, or whatever it is, be the thing that gives you an in at the beginning.
3. Don't fear rejection
While I've been incredibly blessed by the one or two good mom friends that I have, there have also been a lot of misses, and a lot of hurt feelings on my end. The texts and phone calls that have gone unanswered. Not being included when I thought I might be. It's a hard, hard thing, and even as an adult it hurts. But the reality is, if you're going to put yourself out there, and take a risk, you are inviting the possibility of rejection. However, you're also inviting the possibility of a fantastic friendship. You just never know. Try your best not to close yourself off to the good, by trying to protect yourself from the not-so-good.
4. One good friend
It can be easy, especially when you are really craving good community, to start thinking that you need to be surrounded by lots of friends. I think most people have a tendency to want to be a part of a group, and those groups of great women friends you sometimes see represented on social media are fantastic, and wouldn't we all love to be a part of that? BUT. One good, real, true, authentic friendship can make all the difference. ONE. If you have that one, good friend, remember to be grateful and to nourish that friendship. Quality, not quantity.
5.Know you aren't alone
An old friend of mine, and I just had a long overdue phone conversation about this just today. Not only did Jesus enter into extreme rejection and loneliness during his earthly life, He endures it still. In the face of his suffering, our sufferings are nothing, but we are human, and He knows our pain and our loneliness more intimately than anyone else could. He is with us in our loneliness, and in the rejection, and in the desire for community. And so is His Blessed Mother. Who could understand the rejection that Jesus endured more than his own Mother? Jesus and Mary are there for us in our times of loneliness, make no mistake.
6. Pray, and don't give up
Sometimes I forget that the most important step I need to take is praying for God to bring friendships and godly relationships into my life. If you are feeling like you need a mentor, or a deeper sense of community, pray first. Ask God to bring the right people into your life at the right time, and then do your best to wait patiently. You might want to give up, turn your cell phone off, and wait to see if anyone comes to find you, while you wallow in a pit of self pity and frustration. Don't. Don't give up, and keep praying.
It's easy to log onto social media and see the kinds of communities that other women are a part of, and feel discouraged. What you don't see is that those relationships most likely took years to form, and plenty of effort. More than likely, if you are going through a season of loneliness or a friendship-desert right now, you will be able to look back 10 or 15 years from now and see how God worked through the carrying of that cross to provide the community you so desperately needed.
And bring it to the foot of the cross. As many times as it takes.
Making mom friends has been a struggle for me. I am an introvert, and a stay at home mom, which means I technically don't have to see other adults during the day. Even if you aren't those things, being a parent can just be plain lonely sometimes. Patrick and I were the first of our friends to get married, and start having kids, and there aren't many (or really any) couples in our lives who are far removed enough from the baby/toddler years to be mentors, but still close enough to offer real advice.
You see a mom across the aisle at church, or at the play place or the park, with kids the same age, and you wonder if you should strike up a conversation. Once you have, you start wondering if you should be the wackadoodle at the mall playground trolling for other mom's phone numbers, or if that is just going to make you appear completely desperate.
Insecure woman that I am, I also struggle with feeling like maybe I am the only one out there who needs friends, and maybe everyone else already has a strong support system, or a community in place.
I've come to a realization over the past few years however and it's this: You have to take a risk. You have to put yourself out there. Invite people over. Ask someone to coffee. Set up the play date. Just do something. Anything. Know that rejection is a possibility, but take the leap anyway. Here are a few things I've learned about making friends as an introvert, over-analyzing, anxious, stay at home mom:
1. Take a risk
You've been seeing a certain mom around town or church, or at the park for a while, and have chatted with her a time or two. Make a move, and ask to get together, or even just ask for her phone number or email. Reach out. Once you've made that first move, the ball is in the other person's court. But at least you know that you made the effort to connect.
2. Find common ground
One of my best mom friends is a woman I've only known about two years, but we were pregnant at the same time, and our oldest kids were in the same preschool class. Because of the pregnancies, we connected right away (complaining about having to walk up all the flights of stairs to the classroom), and our friendship really started when I took dinner to her house after her twins were born. We have had play dates or hung out together at least once every two weeks at the most since then. Let the kids, or the bellies, or the coffee, or whatever it is, be the thing that gives you an in at the beginning.
3. Don't fear rejection
While I've been incredibly blessed by the one or two good mom friends that I have, there have also been a lot of misses, and a lot of hurt feelings on my end. The texts and phone calls that have gone unanswered. Not being included when I thought I might be. It's a hard, hard thing, and even as an adult it hurts. But the reality is, if you're going to put yourself out there, and take a risk, you are inviting the possibility of rejection. However, you're also inviting the possibility of a fantastic friendship. You just never know. Try your best not to close yourself off to the good, by trying to protect yourself from the not-so-good.
4. One good friend
It can be easy, especially when you are really craving good community, to start thinking that you need to be surrounded by lots of friends. I think most people have a tendency to want to be a part of a group, and those groups of great women friends you sometimes see represented on social media are fantastic, and wouldn't we all love to be a part of that? BUT. One good, real, true, authentic friendship can make all the difference. ONE. If you have that one, good friend, remember to be grateful and to nourish that friendship. Quality, not quantity.
5.Know you aren't alone
An old friend of mine, and I just had a long overdue phone conversation about this just today. Not only did Jesus enter into extreme rejection and loneliness during his earthly life, He endures it still. In the face of his suffering, our sufferings are nothing, but we are human, and He knows our pain and our loneliness more intimately than anyone else could. He is with us in our loneliness, and in the rejection, and in the desire for community. And so is His Blessed Mother. Who could understand the rejection that Jesus endured more than his own Mother? Jesus and Mary are there for us in our times of loneliness, make no mistake.
6. Pray, and don't give up
Sometimes I forget that the most important step I need to take is praying for God to bring friendships and godly relationships into my life. If you are feeling like you need a mentor, or a deeper sense of community, pray first. Ask God to bring the right people into your life at the right time, and then do your best to wait patiently. You might want to give up, turn your cell phone off, and wait to see if anyone comes to find you, while you wallow in a pit of self pity and frustration. Don't. Don't give up, and keep praying.
It's easy to log onto social media and see the kinds of communities that other women are a part of, and feel discouraged. What you don't see is that those relationships most likely took years to form, and plenty of effort. More than likely, if you are going through a season of loneliness or a friendship-desert right now, you will be able to look back 10 or 15 years from now and see how God worked through the carrying of that cross to provide the community you so desperately needed.
And bring it to the foot of the cross. As many times as it takes.
Friday, September 8, 2017
On having human kids
Hours of screaming, kicking, spitting, hitting, name calling, door slamming, without a break.
Happy go lucky, to frustrated and aggressive at the drop of a hat.
Sitting with my back against the wall, physically restraining my child in my arms, meanwhile ignoring my other children, because its the only way I can think of to keep everyone safe.
A four year old telling you they hate you...that God gave them the wrong mom.
A five year old, who looks like a 7 year old, throwing aggressive tantrums in public.
I've been keeping it all inside for the past two years. I have hardly shared it with anyone, and rarely has anyone else witnessed it, other than close family members, or the occasional unsuspecting stranger in the library parking lot.
The isolation has been enormous.
We tried talking to the pediatrician. We tried the play therapist. We tried yelling, crying, negotiating, punishing, ignoring, despairing. And it didn't work.
Now we are trying the psychiatrist, who thinks that he likely has ADHD, definitely had ODD (Oppositional Defiant Disorder), and possibly anxiety.
How do you share with someone else that you love your child more than your own life, but can't be in the room with them for one more single second? How do you number the parenting mistakes you've made? How do you move on, when it never ever seems to get any better?
How do you stay positive? How do you pray? How do you not take it all personally?
We live in a world where when our kids succeed, its because the parents did something right. When the kids act up, or make mistakes, or are human...its our fault.
How many nights have I fallen asleep, guilt ridden, thinking it's all my fault??
How could I possibly count the days I've texted my husband at work, or called him in tears, or asked him to come home in the middle of the day because we are tanking so hard that I was paralyzed.
I'm not afraid to ask for help, and I've asked for plenty, but it is still so lonely to be living this way. The tipping point was a meltdown at our home while we had friends over. I was locked in my sons room with him, trying to calm him down, when I burst into tears. I walked my friend and her four kids to the door, sobbing, trying to pretend like I wasn't sobbing. Wonderful friend that she is, she didn't want to leave me like that, but we both knew it was the best thing in the moment.
It was one of the more mortifying moments of the past two years. But it was also incredibly freeing. Finally...someone has seen our junk. Someone has witnessed it, and I didn't actually melt into a puddle and seep into a hole in the ground. That friend later texted me to say that she would be there for us through the good and the bad, that there was no judgement, and that I was a good mom.
I can't even imagine how I could explain what we've been through as a family over the past few years. It has affected us all. But we are (hopefully...please, Lord), turning a corner. Our son started kindergarten, after a long internal battle over whether or not I wanted to homeschool him (I did...but it definitely would not have been the right choice for him or our family). He loves school, and is doing well so far, but as a long way to go to building the skills he needs to be able to manage his emotions better.
This morning he woke up surly, and frustrated. By the time I dropped him off to school my feelings were hurt, and I already felt like I needed a break from everyone, at 8 am. But in a small moment of mercy I remembered something. That when we are at our most unlovable, that's when we need love the most. And that goes for all of us, not just our kids. So this post is my coming out: not that I have a kid with issues (don't we all?), or that our family is going through a hard time...But I am coming out that I'm human. I'm coming out to say that my child is human. That parenting so far hasn't been what I expected, and that I haven't enjoyed every moment. But that we're waking up every morning and doing the best we can.
Happy go lucky, to frustrated and aggressive at the drop of a hat.
Sitting with my back against the wall, physically restraining my child in my arms, meanwhile ignoring my other children, because its the only way I can think of to keep everyone safe.
A four year old telling you they hate you...that God gave them the wrong mom.
A five year old, who looks like a 7 year old, throwing aggressive tantrums in public.
I've been keeping it all inside for the past two years. I have hardly shared it with anyone, and rarely has anyone else witnessed it, other than close family members, or the occasional unsuspecting stranger in the library parking lot.
The isolation has been enormous.
We tried talking to the pediatrician. We tried the play therapist. We tried yelling, crying, negotiating, punishing, ignoring, despairing. And it didn't work.
Now we are trying the psychiatrist, who thinks that he likely has ADHD, definitely had ODD (Oppositional Defiant Disorder), and possibly anxiety.
How do you share with someone else that you love your child more than your own life, but can't be in the room with them for one more single second? How do you number the parenting mistakes you've made? How do you move on, when it never ever seems to get any better?
How do you stay positive? How do you pray? How do you not take it all personally?
We live in a world where when our kids succeed, its because the parents did something right. When the kids act up, or make mistakes, or are human...its our fault.
How many nights have I fallen asleep, guilt ridden, thinking it's all my fault??
How could I possibly count the days I've texted my husband at work, or called him in tears, or asked him to come home in the middle of the day because we are tanking so hard that I was paralyzed.
I'm not afraid to ask for help, and I've asked for plenty, but it is still so lonely to be living this way. The tipping point was a meltdown at our home while we had friends over. I was locked in my sons room with him, trying to calm him down, when I burst into tears. I walked my friend and her four kids to the door, sobbing, trying to pretend like I wasn't sobbing. Wonderful friend that she is, she didn't want to leave me like that, but we both knew it was the best thing in the moment.
It was one of the more mortifying moments of the past two years. But it was also incredibly freeing. Finally...someone has seen our junk. Someone has witnessed it, and I didn't actually melt into a puddle and seep into a hole in the ground. That friend later texted me to say that she would be there for us through the good and the bad, that there was no judgement, and that I was a good mom.
I can't even imagine how I could explain what we've been through as a family over the past few years. It has affected us all. But we are (hopefully...please, Lord), turning a corner. Our son started kindergarten, after a long internal battle over whether or not I wanted to homeschool him (I did...but it definitely would not have been the right choice for him or our family). He loves school, and is doing well so far, but as a long way to go to building the skills he needs to be able to manage his emotions better.
This morning he woke up surly, and frustrated. By the time I dropped him off to school my feelings were hurt, and I already felt like I needed a break from everyone, at 8 am. But in a small moment of mercy I remembered something. That when we are at our most unlovable, that's when we need love the most. And that goes for all of us, not just our kids. So this post is my coming out: not that I have a kid with issues (don't we all?), or that our family is going through a hard time...But I am coming out that I'm human. I'm coming out to say that my child is human. That parenting so far hasn't been what I expected, and that I haven't enjoyed every moment. But that we're waking up every morning and doing the best we can.
Saturday, August 19, 2017
OK, Lord
Today was a hard, but good day.
It was a step out of the difficult time our family has been going through, towards an equally painful time, but also one that has a little more hope.
Today we had the long awaited appointment with the Psychiatrist who can hopefully help us to help our child.
At the end of it all, he said that he is almost completely sure that there is an Oppositional Defiant Disorder diagnosis, and most likely an ADHD diagnosis, but we have to get more information from his teachers, and meet with him probably quite a few more times before we can come to any real conclusion. At the end of the day, being diagnosed with something, anything, and assigning something or someone a label doesn't change a thing about who they are, but I am eager to learn more about how we can help him.
This afternoon we went to adoration. Taking the kids can be nervewracking, but it is always so sweet. The big kids (3.5 and 5) almost have a built in reverence for the experience. The quiet in the chapel is palpable, and while they don't sit perfectly still, or perfectly quietly, they assume the posture of the other people who are there, and do their best to stay quiet and "talk to Jesus in their hearts." As I sat down this afternoon, I could hardly pray, other than just repeating the name of Jesus over and over. My 18 month old snuggled in my lap and laid his head on my chest. He was just docile, and it made me understand that idea of resting in the presence of Jesus a bit more. Jesus wants me to just be docile and at peace in his presence. What a gift that He's always there for us to come and spend time with him. The baby sat on my lap quietly, while the big kids took it in turns to kneel, sit and look at their books, inspect all the rosaries, and cautiously walk up onto the platform where Jesus was. When the squirmies started, and it was time to go, the five year old didn't want to leave.
I feel so clueless sometimes about how to raise my kids. We have made so many mistakes, and trying to do everything is a overwhelming temptation.
Today, for that moment, my heart felt peace, the first time in a long time. I understood that if I did nothing else, bringing them into the presence of Jesus would be enough. Letting Him have access to them: bringing them to mass, and into the quiet of the adoration chapel; later when they are older, taking them along to regular confession...these actions matter, even if no words are spoken, and no other teaching takes place (even though we do attempt other teaching). All of our efforts towards bringing our children to Jesus are worthy, but the fundamentals are still the same. Let the children come to Him. I hope that being in His presence, and seeing me in His presence will help them to understand their worth in God's eyes, and the importance of spending time with Him. A friend reminded me recently, that even if family prayer isn't taking place as much as we would like it to during this hard season, it's so important for the kids to see their mom and dad reaching out to the Lord and prioritizing prayer. Sometimes, like now when my own prayer life is suffering, the best I can do is load them into the car for a trip to the chapel. And it's a beautiful thing, every time.
My prayer today looks like this..." OK, Lord." Just an acceptance of each thing He's putting in my path. Each moment, beautiful or maddening. "OK, Lord." And I hope I can continue to utter that prayer, whatever comes our way.
It was a step out of the difficult time our family has been going through, towards an equally painful time, but also one that has a little more hope.
Today we had the long awaited appointment with the Psychiatrist who can hopefully help us to help our child.
At the end of it all, he said that he is almost completely sure that there is an Oppositional Defiant Disorder diagnosis, and most likely an ADHD diagnosis, but we have to get more information from his teachers, and meet with him probably quite a few more times before we can come to any real conclusion. At the end of the day, being diagnosed with something, anything, and assigning something or someone a label doesn't change a thing about who they are, but I am eager to learn more about how we can help him.
This afternoon we went to adoration. Taking the kids can be nervewracking, but it is always so sweet. The big kids (3.5 and 5) almost have a built in reverence for the experience. The quiet in the chapel is palpable, and while they don't sit perfectly still, or perfectly quietly, they assume the posture of the other people who are there, and do their best to stay quiet and "talk to Jesus in their hearts." As I sat down this afternoon, I could hardly pray, other than just repeating the name of Jesus over and over. My 18 month old snuggled in my lap and laid his head on my chest. He was just docile, and it made me understand that idea of resting in the presence of Jesus a bit more. Jesus wants me to just be docile and at peace in his presence. What a gift that He's always there for us to come and spend time with him. The baby sat on my lap quietly, while the big kids took it in turns to kneel, sit and look at their books, inspect all the rosaries, and cautiously walk up onto the platform where Jesus was. When the squirmies started, and it was time to go, the five year old didn't want to leave.
I feel so clueless sometimes about how to raise my kids. We have made so many mistakes, and trying to do everything is a overwhelming temptation.
Today, for that moment, my heart felt peace, the first time in a long time. I understood that if I did nothing else, bringing them into the presence of Jesus would be enough. Letting Him have access to them: bringing them to mass, and into the quiet of the adoration chapel; later when they are older, taking them along to regular confession...these actions matter, even if no words are spoken, and no other teaching takes place (even though we do attempt other teaching). All of our efforts towards bringing our children to Jesus are worthy, but the fundamentals are still the same. Let the children come to Him. I hope that being in His presence, and seeing me in His presence will help them to understand their worth in God's eyes, and the importance of spending time with Him. A friend reminded me recently, that even if family prayer isn't taking place as much as we would like it to during this hard season, it's so important for the kids to see their mom and dad reaching out to the Lord and prioritizing prayer. Sometimes, like now when my own prayer life is suffering, the best I can do is load them into the car for a trip to the chapel. And it's a beautiful thing, every time.
My prayer today looks like this..." OK, Lord." Just an acceptance of each thing He's putting in my path. Each moment, beautiful or maddening. "OK, Lord." And I hope I can continue to utter that prayer, whatever comes our way.
Monday, August 14, 2017
Welcome
A while back I started a blog. I used to blog a lot in high school and college, before it got cool, and I loved it. When I became a mom I tried to keep it up and I just couldn't. So a while back I got inspired and decided on a whim that I was going to challenge myself to blog a reflection on the Psalms. Every. Single. One. I was super excited to have a goal, because I really needed one. Until about two weeks in when I realized just how much that challenge was not going to fit into my life right now.
I was embarrassed, and frustrated, because my desire to DO something, to be sharing what I felt I had to share with the world, just seemed impossible.
I felt like a passionate person without a passion. A creative, without an outlet. "Just" a mom. Not a mom with a blog, or an etsy shop, or a ministry, or even a plan. "Just a mom."
This is something I've thought about a lot since becoming a parent. My identity seemed to get all sucked up in mommyhood, and I've had pretty regular identity crises since that moment five years ago when my first kid arrived on the scene. I've birthed three kids, followed my husband in his ministry, and his job changes, bopped along feeling inadequate, and lost and every once in a while breaking out in a cold sweat, wondering if this was how things were going to be from now on.
I've been pining for the person that I used to be. Or at least the person I thought that I was. But God has changed me. I'm not that person anymore. And I'm not called to do the things that other people are doing. I'm not even being called to do the things I desire to do. At least not now. Right now I'm being called to just do the next thing. "Love well the person right in front of me." To "Wash the plate, not because it is dirty, not because you are told to wash it, but because you love the person who will use it next." Do the laundry. Be a friend. Be a wife. Do the mom thing, and do it joyfully. Rejoice in the successes of others, the things they are doing to build the kingdom, but not feel inadequate for not adding to that effort in the same way.
I am an introvert. A big one. But since becoming a mom, I've branched out a lot. I share shamelessly (well...almost) about my failures big and small on social media, and reach out to people, and take risks, because I am hoping to reach just one person. To be an encouragement to someone who is lonely, in the trenches, someone who needs a friend. To love my neighbor.
So this is my new blog, where I am just me. Where I'm not trying to meet an impossible goal, but just share the things that are on my heart, and hope that one person can feel encouraged. Where I will probably regularly quote St. Mother Theresa, because she's my girl. Where I will write about, and sometimes bemoan, the way that God is shaping the person that I am now, by asking me to walk through the sometimes mundane moments of my life as a wife and mother. Where I wash the plate, because it needs washing, and give the hug, change the diaper, and...you get the idea. Because it needs doing. And because its teaching me how to love.
I hope that you, whoever you are, can be encouraged, can maybe feel a little less alone.
I was embarrassed, and frustrated, because my desire to DO something, to be sharing what I felt I had to share with the world, just seemed impossible.
I felt like a passionate person without a passion. A creative, without an outlet. "Just" a mom. Not a mom with a blog, or an etsy shop, or a ministry, or even a plan. "Just a mom."
This is something I've thought about a lot since becoming a parent. My identity seemed to get all sucked up in mommyhood, and I've had pretty regular identity crises since that moment five years ago when my first kid arrived on the scene. I've birthed three kids, followed my husband in his ministry, and his job changes, bopped along feeling inadequate, and lost and every once in a while breaking out in a cold sweat, wondering if this was how things were going to be from now on.
I've been pining for the person that I used to be. Or at least the person I thought that I was. But God has changed me. I'm not that person anymore. And I'm not called to do the things that other people are doing. I'm not even being called to do the things I desire to do. At least not now. Right now I'm being called to just do the next thing. "Love well the person right in front of me." To "Wash the plate, not because it is dirty, not because you are told to wash it, but because you love the person who will use it next." Do the laundry. Be a friend. Be a wife. Do the mom thing, and do it joyfully. Rejoice in the successes of others, the things they are doing to build the kingdom, but not feel inadequate for not adding to that effort in the same way.
I am an introvert. A big one. But since becoming a mom, I've branched out a lot. I share shamelessly (well...almost) about my failures big and small on social media, and reach out to people, and take risks, because I am hoping to reach just one person. To be an encouragement to someone who is lonely, in the trenches, someone who needs a friend. To love my neighbor.
So this is my new blog, where I am just me. Where I'm not trying to meet an impossible goal, but just share the things that are on my heart, and hope that one person can feel encouraged. Where I will probably regularly quote St. Mother Theresa, because she's my girl. Where I will write about, and sometimes bemoan, the way that God is shaping the person that I am now, by asking me to walk through the sometimes mundane moments of my life as a wife and mother. Where I wash the plate, because it needs washing, and give the hug, change the diaper, and...you get the idea. Because it needs doing. And because its teaching me how to love.
I hope that you, whoever you are, can be encouraged, can maybe feel a little less alone.
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