The long, empty summer days. The days I wanted for months have arrived. I get to sleep in. I have little schedule to follow and I want to enjoy the languidness of it. But the kids are bored. Not all of them and not all of the time. Well, one of them seems to always be bored. There is tension in the air and we seem to be one step away from a breakdown.
Last night it happened. She snapped. The anxiety she'd been living with the past month was too much for her. I brought her home from her cousins' house, cutting the trip short for the other kids. It was getting late anyway. I was speechless. I didn't know what she needed. I didn't know what she wanted. I didn't know how to parent her. We talked but nothing was resolved.
This morning she was just a little too loud. She's still agitated. What is she wanting? We're walking on eggshells knowing it's about to blow. She's trying so hard. She cleaned out her closet and dresser to sell her clothes at Kid to Kid. We get the picky employee who sees stains where I don't. Two 33 gallon bags of clothes and the employee took three articles of clothing. She didn't even have the decency to fold the clothes before she threw them back into the bag. Just wadded them and stuffed them in. Yet she wouldn't accept clothes with the invisible stains. The irony.
My husband came home and decided it was time to address yesterday's blow up. I warned him she was still agitated. She blew. There was yelling, screaming, and consequences. After an hour, I was summoned. She wanted to talk to me. We spoke through passing notes. There is no "tone" to interpret; just words. We had a good conversation. She took a shower and returned upstairs where I dried her hair. The agitation was gone. The bubbly personality had returned. She is a child of contradictions. Yet she is the child that sees complexity, beauty, range of vantage points.
She had spent the day begging me to identify her boundaries. She couldn't do it on her own. I wanted her to connect the dots and arrive where my 44 year old experience placed me. I forget she's only 12 years old. She may be my child but she is not me. She may be my child, but she is also a person who is stretching and discovering herself and her world. She needs a mother to hold her hand and sometimes to reign her back into her box, which is anything but square. She may be my child, but I'm still growing with her. We are figuring out the steps to a difficult dance; what is our proximity? Do I lead or follow? Are our steps the same or different? Who is the teacher and who is the student?
She is the child that causes me more angst than any other. She is child most like her mother. The one that drives me to my knees in pleading prayer night after night. I don't understand what she's asking of me. How can I help her when I don't understand? The Master of all parents reveals bit by bit what I need to do to help her. But He also reveals that she's not the only one that needs to grow.
She is the child that He sent me to become the woman I will be. He has entrusted her to me. He has entrusted me to her.
Last night it happened. She snapped. The anxiety she'd been living with the past month was too much for her. I brought her home from her cousins' house, cutting the trip short for the other kids. It was getting late anyway. I was speechless. I didn't know what she needed. I didn't know what she wanted. I didn't know how to parent her. We talked but nothing was resolved.
This morning she was just a little too loud. She's still agitated. What is she wanting? We're walking on eggshells knowing it's about to blow. She's trying so hard. She cleaned out her closet and dresser to sell her clothes at Kid to Kid. We get the picky employee who sees stains where I don't. Two 33 gallon bags of clothes and the employee took three articles of clothing. She didn't even have the decency to fold the clothes before she threw them back into the bag. Just wadded them and stuffed them in. Yet she wouldn't accept clothes with the invisible stains. The irony.
My husband came home and decided it was time to address yesterday's blow up. I warned him she was still agitated. She blew. There was yelling, screaming, and consequences. After an hour, I was summoned. She wanted to talk to me. We spoke through passing notes. There is no "tone" to interpret; just words. We had a good conversation. She took a shower and returned upstairs where I dried her hair. The agitation was gone. The bubbly personality had returned. She is a child of contradictions. Yet she is the child that sees complexity, beauty, range of vantage points.
She had spent the day begging me to identify her boundaries. She couldn't do it on her own. I wanted her to connect the dots and arrive where my 44 year old experience placed me. I forget she's only 12 years old. She may be my child but she is not me. She may be my child, but she is also a person who is stretching and discovering herself and her world. She needs a mother to hold her hand and sometimes to reign her back into her box, which is anything but square. She may be my child, but I'm still growing with her. We are figuring out the steps to a difficult dance; what is our proximity? Do I lead or follow? Are our steps the same or different? Who is the teacher and who is the student?
She is the child that causes me more angst than any other. She is child most like her mother. The one that drives me to my knees in pleading prayer night after night. I don't understand what she's asking of me. How can I help her when I don't understand? The Master of all parents reveals bit by bit what I need to do to help her. But He also reveals that she's not the only one that needs to grow.
She is the child that He sent me to become the woman I will be. He has entrusted her to me. He has entrusted me to her.
Wow, my 12 year old puzzles me and I get full of self doubt about how to parent her. Dealing with her little siblings is a breeze now. I'm experienced at that. But this pre-teen growing into an adult stage gets me. It's new. I have no answers. No experience to draw from.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad I'm not the only one finding this challenging although my heart goes out to you because it does sound like your little girl is testing your boundaries and resilience more than ours. I hope that you continue to find ways to grow with her.
I like how you have turned a challenge into an opportunity...
Wow! That was an amazing post!! So very good!
ReplyDeleteExactly.
ReplyDeleteThis is a dance, the steps not painted on the floor to help you remember when to dip and when to turn.
We've been using the shower as a therapy tool for years - it seems it helps to de-fuse The Boy before the explosion occurs. And I think he uses the time with the noise from the water to talk himself down from that scary place (and it's harder for others to hear him).
The deep pressure touch seems to help, too. One year, I think he had it figured out when he asked for a straitjacket for his birthday.
Instead, I'd just hold him as tightly as I could until he calmed down.
And yelling and lecturing never helps...never. He's tuned to a different frequency, and can't hear me.
So I've found if I talk very quietly, HE has to stop yelling so he can hear me - because, he too is looking for that anchor, that boundary, that box.
She is very lucky to have a mom like you.
ReplyDeleteShe is the child that come over and studied scriptures with us and knew all the answers and was the sweetest thing in thre world.
ReplyDeleteOh this brought tears to my eyes...
ReplyDeleteParenting is so hard, knowing what to do and how to do it. Figuring out what works for each child, and what doesn't. The fact that you are praying about it and evaluating yourself as a parent shows what a great mom you are.
I love how you end this post...beautiful.
Yikes.
ReplyDeleteThat was a freakin' awesome post. I love how you wrote it- beautiful- and the sum of it all was awesome.
But...
It made me TOTALLY appreciate the temper tantrums that my toddlers throw that can easily be resolved with a time-out, a cookie or Dora.
Dang it!!!!! Your post made me cry. Now get back to being funny!!!!!! I am counting on you.
ReplyDeletei have one of those kids too - now she's 19. wish i could say it's gotten easier. nope. but like you we try to dwell on the positives and hope someday she will figure herself out because it has come to the point where all our efforts have yielded little.
ReplyDeleteyou have beautifully summed up that Heavenly Father sent your daughter to you which makes it reassuring He will help and there is something to be learned from the situation. like you, i have been on my knees many times, fasted and prayed over my daughter more than any other thing [even how to stop eating so much chocolate] the answers have come, miracles have occured. the circumstances are the same but we are making progress, i am a better parent, i am less judgmental of everyone, i am learning what it means to love unconditionally, and to endure to the end. and in spite of wanting to kill her at times, we continue on our earthly journey together. i have become a much better person because of the challenge of being my daughter's mother.
maybe that's what Heavenly Father's purpose was in the first place
I adore you. As always. As ever.
ReplyDeleteKeep dancing the fragile dance and things work out in the end.
ReplyDeleteGood luck for the next several years. It's a battle, but one that is worth it!
I am scared to death of those years. You are already doing so well! God chose well for your daughter. And when the next five years are done, you can move into my house and take care of mine ... please!!
ReplyDelete