Goldilocks & the 4 Boys (Ruby)

Geez, when you talk about your friend’s house and how [Hurricane Katrina] “…blew the whole thing into the lake…”, it’s mind boggling (no, not “mind-BLOGGING”). Yikes! I try to visualize that and it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen…anyway, so nice that the house is rebuilt and that you got to sip a Skinny-Mojito there!

A closer-to-home-YIKES, however, is having kids grow up and suddenly be “out there”…in the world. I don’t imagine I’ll be getting through this with any prize-winning grace – not sure I want to picture living through my troops becoming an army of teenagers, without being at least mildly sedated. A friend who has been back in touch recently wrote such a nice note about the differences and similarities between having little children, vs. what it feels like when they are grown(ish): “it's so funny with kids, you're dying for them to walk and talk and once they can you long for the days they couldn't. You want them to be old enough to not need to be constantly watched, but once they are you are constantly wondering where they are or what they are doing. You want them to graduate from High School and then they go and you miss them terribly. Then they come back to visit and you're back to square one where there's no juice in the pitcher and no ice cream bars in the box, only now there is also no gas in your car to run to the store and get more.…”

Regarding your last post/letter, I think we all just want those kids to be “happy” without being a Hallmark card about it and squeezing prescribed little snippets of HAPPINESS out of them like our fathers seemed to rely on with us. And regarding your Dad’s tendency to NEGOTIATE the reality of your alleged happiness, that makes sense to me on one level; as long as we’re putting all that effort into attempting to make life more enjoyable for our kids, with the PERFECT MIX of discipline, support & love (not to mention shelter, safety, at least a thimble of wisdom to share, some FUN thrown into the mix and ALL THE RIGHT GROCERIES), it does seem like we should be able to get a little positive feedback and some bonus points that sound approximately like this: “Oh, yeah….this life of mine is going great….I’m a HAPPY KID, Mom/Dad….and GOLLY! I have you two to thank for that!” (...or abbreviated eye contact from Sweet Medusa...that would be rewarding too).

The problem is that no one is really subscribing to anyone else’s interpretation of what happiness LOOKS like…or at least not forever. Which is why it’s relatively blissful before a baby learns how to say “NO!” and walk away from you, with his/her own agenda. At the same time, this is exactly what you want, ultimately, for your child…to get skilled at the be-your-own-person thing, the “don’t-worry-about-me-Mom/Dad-I-can-figure-out-where-I’m-going” thing.

Then coming in through another door in the happiness discussion, I question the notion of TOO MUCH “HAPPINESS” for my kids, which can so easily add up to attitudes and behaviors like complacency and LAZINESS, acting SPOILED and ENTITLED. This is where I totally trip up as a parent, because I really want my kids to be able to get their own stuff, to be motivated, to triumph over their own successes, to be ACCOUNTABLE, all as part of a recipe for long-term happiness – for them and for me. But I LOVE to do stuff FOR them, partly as a time-saver (I can do it faster, better, for whatever that's worth), partly for the simple joy of pleasing and surprising them, partly because they have all honed their skills for backing me into a corner and getting me to surrender to their demands, and also in part because of our 17 year old autistic son, Louki, who has us trained to be Johnny-on-the-spot interpreters and implementers of all things, all needs, all moments…for all the right reasons and this “let us take over from here…” parenting style carries over into the parenting of all of our children, sometimes.

My first son, Blue, was interesting training ground for me as a new parent. Before he learned to walk, he could toss a smile my way that would MELT me, then he’d smile at the toy he wanted….and he knew that if he charmed me enough times in succession with that smile, eventually I’d fetch that toy for him (no matter how close and “gettable” it was for him). His “Thanks, Mom” was the look in his face, those eyes squinting with GLEE, his drooling, generous grin. I was enriched, made better for my efforts. As that “baby” grew, when it came to tasks that were more tedious, – actually chores – doing anything for himself, cleaning up, making a bed, etc., was more than he wanted to sign up for but he kept smiling at me, charming me, and later, intellectually negotiating with me. Instead of letting a few balls drop over the years, as I had more babies, got busier, had less patience, got more tired, I threw a few more my way by “doing it all”, to make sure it was done “just so”…correctly, up to my OCD standards, etc., to ensure my own HAPPINESS; I’d scurry through the house, tidying up and making 4 or 5 perfect beds before racing off to work and I’d rarely return home without bags-full-o’stuff to promise uninterrupted “happiness” for all, anything from a new/improved fresh flow of groceries (including Beer for hub-a-licious), to new clothes and magazines for someone, to the latest just-released can’t-miss movie on DVD. The welcome-home line I typically receive to this day is: “Did you get anything?”

“Getting” is prime. Historically, I’ve been a “getter” so that I can distribute what I get and be a GIVER of goods and services. Whether we like this or not, this may actually define the word “Mom”. (And not just “anything” qualifies; for instance toilet paper, scotch-tape, anything for ME, anything that isn’t a significant contribution to someone else’s happiness does not count, as I gain entrance back into the house). So I GET, and they TAKE it all, happily…which is why I GET it in the first place…then I feel guilty about giving too much, then I get pissed about them TAKING too much, then I HATE MYSELF…and kind of resent them. This is an ongoing conflict that is really my fault…I know this…but it is a classic parenting conflict…like, your Dad was the one who made it possible for you to have that Burger at the tennis club…but he also REALLY needed you to make it so clear to him that you understood the inherent privilege in it…which is NOT WHAT KIDS DO; they just want the life you give them…and they can gulp it all up like hungry dogs, no matter what it is you give them...groceries, vacations, whatever.

Anyway, again, because of my job situation and because I think it’s an important exercise for my kids, I keep thinking of ways to cut back, essentially GETTING and GIVING less to all of them while convincing them that we HAVE what we need (and more)… HA!

I’m struggling to re-learn this all myself, too. It’s a GIANT temptation for me to go overboard to PLEASE them as part of my “HAPPY FAMILY COCKTAIL” (even though I get it…I know that what they REALLY need and want is time, attention, to be listened to, etc…it’s always truly basic). Meanwhile, tonight for example, my son, Bowie, is in a school concert and he wants a bow tie in black or red and a new pair of black pants to wear. He has black pants. Scot tells me, “he can wear the ones he has…and he doesn’t have to have the tie…it’s just for one night”, but this doesn’t sit well with me because I want him to feel HAPPY about his outfit…I want him to see that I made the effort. Hmmm. And Ollie just asked for money for a soda. I am categorically against soda. But we are wanting him to feel independent, to be able to walk down the street and help himself to a little “living”, a little “freedom”…disguised as soda. I am opting to possibly pick him up some lemonade instead but he’s not liking this alternative. And Blue has put in his request for a super healthy Pistou soup with about a million ingredients that I keep promising to pick up so that he can be HAPPY. I support this, but keep getting distracted by all the other requests and assignments.

Eeek!!

One day later:
O.K. – Bowie returned a shirt he had never worn for some new (“better”) black pants and wore a black necktie of mine to the school concert. Not a bad compromise.

Ollie did break out of the asylum (house) to buy himself a soda (does anyone really need a Mountain Dew at 3:30 in the afternoon? This is soooo Wisconsin!). But, I also brought home 3 different kinds of lemonade, even though I really want them to just drink water (This is soooo ME!).

Blue needs me to take his bike back to the bike shop where he just paid $130.00 to fix things that had corroded when he left the (brand new) bike outside for the whole winter; says it’s not really riding right. Hmmm. What a surprise. At least he paid (and will continue to pay) for the repairs.

I still haven’t picked up the veggies for Pistou.

I’ve promised the kids that if they make their beds EVERY day, I will treat them to a trip to McDonald’s on the weekends (we used to go out to restaurants a few times a month, as a family, but have stopped that). This worked well for the first week. Please note that Toyen makes her bed the minute she gets home from school, so eventually, her room looks great every day, but the boys would all lie around in slop without ever lifting a finger and still grin about it...if I didn't devote my life to rescuing them from themselves...or myself from them...

These things mean nothing in the end…but for a Mom with anxiety issues, my personal HAPPINESS…in a fleeting way…can have a direct link to whether or not I can tell that Goldilocks and all her brothers have been sleeping in "my" beds…

This morning, I made all the beds myself.

How shallow. How happy.

Ruby