There Will Be Plenty of Time for Tears....Later.

A few weeks ago we noticed that our dog didn't have much of an appetite. She would no longer finish the food in her bowl, and she started losing weight.  On the Sunday after Thanksgiving she wouldn't come out from under our bed, and when we did coax her out, her ears were flat against her head, her tail was down, and she looked scared.  I knew something was wrong.
So, I took her to the vet on Monday.  She'd lost 3 lbs.  They decided to draw blood.

Last Tuesday the vet called with the results...her kidneys are failing her.  At the most, she has 6 months, at the least 2 weeks.  It's day to day, really.   We've been telling our girls that Kenzie is sick, but I couldn't bring myself to elaborate.  We've been meaning to sit down and explain it to them...but it's one of those things that feels better to put off.  It feels better to avoid reality.

Fast forward to Sunday evening, and I decide that we should give Christmas photos a stab since December is fading and my to-do list is not getting shorter.  The hubs was running errands and I gathered the girls and the dog around the tree.  "Let's just get a few shots...Momma only needs a few."

It wasn't going so well...

The dog was cooperating but the kids were not.  So then I say, in my cheeriest voice,

"Come on girls!  We need just one photo with Kenzie.  This is her last Christmas!" 

As soon as the words escaped my mouth I knew I made a huge mistake.  Camdyn never misses a beat, nothing gets by her. 

"Why is this her last Chrismas Momma?" 
"Um, because she is sick, Cam, and she will probably be with Jesus next Christmas."
"But...I don't want her to die.  I don't want another dog.  I want Kenzie."

It's too late.  The conversation went in the total opposite direction of happy Christmas card.  She started to cry.  I started to cry.  And through heaving shoulders and her heavy sobs, I explained just how sick Kenzie is....and it wasn't easy. 

We hugged.  I encouraged her to love Kenzie every moment she can while she is still here.  Kenzie licked her tears and I explained that Kenzie doesn't want her to be sad.  There will be time for tears later.

I never did get another smile from my oldest girl that evening, but the doggie got a lot of love. 

There will be plenty of time for tears later.  She is going to be missed.

Momma Bear Syndrome

When Camdyn was a toddler I found myself in Momma Bear mode a lot more often than I do these days.  It was easy, back then, to swoop her up and save her from danger, and to solve her problems for her.  I was that mother that would glance a judgemental eye at the woman who let her rambunctious 9 year old (who was violating the height restriction on the play place at the mall) bump into her and knock her over.  I'd get all "This isn't safe, we are leaving.  I'm Momma Bear and I'm protecting you!"   
But then time happens, and kids grow, and circumstances change, and suddenly I'm that woman with a rambunctious 5 year old who accidentally knocks over a toddler at the play place at the mall.  And much the same, the circumstances when I have to go in to Momma Bear mode have also changed. 

I don't protect her physically so much anymore.  Instead, I fight the urge to protect her emotionally, I fight the urge to save her self-esteem, the urge to protect her from a broken heart, or disappointment.  In some situations Momma Bear is warranted, but in most it does her a disservice. 

A few weeks back, Camdyn was taking her first semi-private riding lesson at the ranch.  There were two older girls in her lesson, twins, 8 years old.  In typical Cam fashion she began chatting them up.  The child makes fast friends everywhere she goes.  They went to the camp room and picked out helmets together and then returned to the area where I was sitting.  I asked Cam which horse she wanted to ride and she said, "I want to ride Molly.  I love Molly."  One of the older girls said, "I don't like Molly.  Molly is too easy.  I need a more difficult horse." 

I bit my tongue.  My urge was to say, "Well, Camdyn is only 5 years old.  She is a lot younger than you.  She needs an easy horse and she loves Molly."  But, I didn't.  I wanted to see how Camdyn would respond to the older girl's comment.   Cam didn't say a thing about it.  She just kept on talking about horses, and saddles, and the girls walked to the barn like the best of friends.  She wasn't the slightest bit offended or put down, although I kind of was.

It got me thinking, how often do parents project adult feelings on children?  As adults we forget the amount of innocence in children's conversations.  That little girl was simply trying to state that she likes a horse who provides a challenge.  She wasn't actually putting Camdyn down, she just lacked the maturity and eloquence to say it any other way.  I was the one who interpreted it negatively.  My mind whipped in to Momma Bear mode, and I almost made an bigger ordeal about the comment than necessary. 

As much as I want to protect Camdyn's self-esteem, her innocence, her feelings all the livelong time, I have learned that I can't and I shouldn't.  Remember the incident at Chick Fil A a few Junes ago?  I beat myself up over not saying squat to the kids who were blatantly being mean.  Yeah, part of it is that I have an aversion to conflict, but the other part of it is that I also know that I can not walk beside Camdyn her entire life, defend her every move, fight her every battle, and be her defender all the time.  I need to let her figure out how to handle life herself.  She needs to learn how to stand up for herself, how to properly respond to someone who says not-so-nice things, when to stand her ground, and when to compromise.  Coming from a woman who struggles with exactly that (not due to parenting, but just due to my genetic make-up) I consider the ability to resolve ones issues and stand up for one's self a gift. 

And the next time Cam is on the offending end of the situation, the next time she utters words that are misconstrued as being mean, when she simply didn't explain herself well, I'm not going to jump in to defend her, to declare her innocence, or rectify the wrongs.  I'm going to let her work it out, because conflict resolution is an important life skill....and because I'm going to save Momma Bear mode for when it really counts. 

A Little Bit Broken

Last week, on our way to the gym, Camdyn and I made a stop at my favorite little cupcake store.  Totally counterproductive, but that's the way it works, I guess.  The cupcake store is located right next to a florist shop.  So, to kill some time, we wander in and look around.  Camdyn spies this little Gund stuffed Eagle.  It's cute and she wants it very badly.  I look at the sticker...$12.99.  I tell her that she'll have to earn it. 

We get in the car and we work out details on how she can earn this toy.  I tell her that if she gets stars on her behavior chart for the next two days then she earns the eagle toy.  Thursday she got a star, and Friday, she ended up with a straight face for disruptive/loud voice in the Library.  No toy for Camdyn.

So, this week brings a fresh start and a new goal...two stars in a row earns the toy.  She accomplishes her goal and yesterday on our way to the gym, we buy Camdyn her prized Eagle. 
(Cam is obsessed with birds right now - thank you Rio - and her school mascot is the Eagles...so she is super happy about this stuffie). She is so proud of herself and can't wait to show her teacher.  She talks about it all night long and sleeps with her eagle (named Flower) tucked in neatly beside her.

This morning, I tell Camdyn that she can bring the eagle in and show her teacher, but then the eagle is coming to the truck with me, toys aren't allowed at school.  She was on board with this idea.

We get to school early, she is playing with her eagle and is totally pumped to show her teacher. When the door opens she strolls in with her toy, and 10 other kids, and some parents. She waits patiently for her teacher's attention. She finally taps her on the hand and says "Look - Eagle." Her teacher says, "cute" and then goes back to the conversation she was having with a 9 year old school patrol. Cam stands there for another 2 minutes, waiting to have more of a conversation with her teacher about her eagle. She finally gives up, and walks over to me, half broken hearted because the teacher didn't give her more attention.

::Sidebar:: I don't blame the teacher, she's busy, she has a million things to do in the morning, she has kids and parents coming through the door, she just didn't have time, and I get that, I really do.

BUT - the look on Cam's face killed me. I can still see her...eyes turned down, but trying to put on a smile as she handed me her Eagle to take home. The look of sheer disappointment blanketed her face. So, I said, "She said the eagle was "cute." She liked it!!" Cam just shrugged her shoulders. Then I left.

On the ride to work I was thinking about how something so important to a child is often just tossed aside by adults because we are too busy with our own lives and agendas to see their simple pleasures.
I wonder how many times I have done that same thing to her, only I was too busy to see that look of disappointment wash over her face.  Five times? A hundred times?  I have no idea.

So, I sit here, a little bit broken.   Feeling every bit as disappointed as my little girl was this morning.  I should have walked into her classroom with her (instead of waiting in the hallway) and said "Cam has something special to show you. She's been waiting all night to show you this." 

I should have made it important, because it was important, to my child.

I can't change what happened this morning, and like a good friend told me , "Luckily they [kids] also forgive and forget pretty easily."  She is right, Cam probably shook off her disappointment like a champ after I left the room.

But, me, I'm going to remember this...and the next time I find myself saying "one second" or "in a few minutes" or "not right now."  I'm going to stop and remember the lesson here. 

Time, is not more valuable than her sense of significance. 

She is worth it.

Her accomplishments, her imagination, her stories, and her interests are worth time. 

My kid gets pink slips....a lot.

"So what I told you was true...from a certain point of view"

~Obi Wan Kenobi

Yesterday, I spent 13 hours driving to, sitting in, and driving home from a training class.  It was a long day to say the least.  I was about half way home, singing to the radio and trying to enjoy the commute when the phone rang and I heard the Hubs' voice through the car speakers.  His first words, "Cam got another pink slip today."  Me:  "WHAT?  ANOTHER ONE?"  Yes, that makes two in a row this week.  Me:   "FOR.THE.LOVE.  For What?"  For stepping out of line and shutting the door to the closet while the teacher was inside of it (I'm guessing half of you will ::gasp:: and half of you will ::snicker::)

Here's the problem:  My kid is guilty of not always making the best choices.  She doesn't think of consequences before she acts.  I'm not making excuses for her, I recognize that it's an issue and I'm hoping as she matures it'll lock in to place for her.  But, if my kid is going to get a pink slip every time she makes a poor choice or doesn't follow directions, then I might as well buy the school a ream of pink paper, because they are going to run out! 

Isn't this what preschoolers do?  Is my child the only one getting written up for stepping out of line?  Is she the only one that gets written up for poor choices?  Historically, pink slips are used for incidents when a child hurts another child, kicks, hits, bites, or suffers some sort of injury.  In this instance, the injury was to the teacher.  Was she so upset she wrote her up?  Was she embarrassed that Cam shut her in the closet?  Did the other children laugh and wound her ego?  I really don't know but I'm tired of signing those pink sheets of paper.  I'm tired of having "the talk" with Cam about poor choices.  I'm tired of a school that is so rigid and strict with its policies that it leaves little room for children to behave like children.  I'm tired of the overwhelming feeling that my kid is perceived as "the bad kid." 

Thankfully, this is the only year that Cam has had a less than a positive experience at our school.  For whatever reason, she is not gelling with her teacher, or her class, and the result is that she's taken several steps backwards socially, but has soared academically.

For those of you that are Faithful Readers you may remember this post about the drama with classroom assignments for this year or this one on how orientation went..  As I read back, I find my intuition to be almost eerie....this year has turned out to be exactly the way I hoped it wouldn't.  As positive as I try to be, as much as I wished things would pull together this year, I realize that it's not going to happen. 

I really don't think it's going to get better, we are just going to get through it.  So, while I hate to wish time away, while I hate to look forward to the next step, I am...just like I predicted in August. 

Kindergarten has to bring better things for my bright, energetic, little girl, who absolutely bubbles over with excitement and curiosity.  School life for her (as much as she absolutely loves it) has to get better than this.  She needs to be engaged more, challenged more, praised more for good deeds, she needs a teacher with endless patience and a more credentials.  I am wishing on a star that Kindergarten brings her that.

This rant isn't the way things usually go around here, but this situation has caused me astronomical amounts of stress this year...It finally deserved a spot here, in my online memoir.  My hope is that next year, I'll look back at this and wonder why in the world it had to be so difficult...

In better news, I've been working with Camdyn on a computer based Learn to Read program.  She beams when she gets answers right.  I think it's really wonderful for her self esteem as well as her listening skills.    Well, last night, during story time she read her first word...G-O, GO!  ::Head explode::

You Don't Know Her Like I Do....

There are moments in motherhood when you feel judged.  Moments when you feel the condescending stares from complete strangers in the parking lot of Target while a little one throws a fit over sitting in her car seat.  There are moments when you feel like you have no idea what you are doing, moments when you just don't know how to fix it.   Moments of helplessness and inadequacy.  Well, that is my experience anyway. 

Dear Chloe Belle,
In the wake of the Superbowl party, I need to let you know that I understand.  And, while I don't necessarily condone your behavior....I get you. 

From the moment you could control your arms & legs with purpose, you have expressed your will.  You have always been protective of your own space, and quick to cry with displeasure when strangers would peer into your bucket car seat for a glimpse of your baby face.  You never did like being looked at by people who were foreign to you.  That hasn't changed.  Now that you are older you will swat in displeasure from the doting gaze of a stranger and say "No" which is your own version of "Stop looking at me."  You will repeat this over and over until they finally look away, or until your attention is shifted. 

For the past 12 months or so, Sissy has been yanking toys out of your chubby hands whenever she feels like it.  Until recently, you let her, because you didn't have a concept of "mine."  Well, now you do.  Now, you are fiercely protective of what is yours.  You don't share Baby, you don't share anything related to baby, her stroller, or her blankie, and I understand that.  You've been conditioned that way...it comes with the territory of being a sibling, of protecting what's yours, staking your territory, and standing your ground.  It sometimes comes to pushing & shoving, and the dreaded hair pulling to keep what's yours, yours, and I cringe.  I remind you to use gentle hands.  I put you in time-out.  But, I understand. 

Last Sunday at the football party, I hellicoptered over you the entire evening.  I did my best to protect unsuspecting Littles who ventured too close to your stroller, or your baby from meeting your flailing arms.  I hung my head, when you pushed.  After 3 hours of this exhausting following and cautioning, I had finally had enough.  As we drove home that night we talked about Camdyn's great behavior and manners, and how you struggled, and I cried.

I found myself wishing that strangers could know you like I do. 

That they could see the sugar in your soul, that lies underneath the fire in your eyes.  That they could see how you are content to sit on Momma's lap for 30 minutes just to rock and snuggle; how you stroke my hair gently and often plant kisses on my cheeks without prompting.

They don't know you like I do.

How you hug your sissy, just because, and insist on kissing her before you go to bed.  I wish they could see how you share your afternoon snack with your friends at the park, and how you laugh and giggle until I think your belly will explode. 

They don't know you like I do.

And I marvel at the fact that you are wired completely opposite of me, and I wouldn't change it.  I often feel like a walking doormat.  I'm that girl that could never shout out an answer in class because I didn't have the voice.  I'm that girl that can't express frustration and displeasure because I'm afraid of hurting someone else's feelings.  I verbally choke when it comes to confrontration.  I don't want that for you. 

I want you to take that voice that I've been writing about for months and use it.  I want you to keep speaking up even if it offends, or rubs people the wrong way.  I want you to stand up for what is yours, what you believe in, and speak what's on your mind.  So, while I'm anxious for you to find those words so that the hitting, pushing, and hair pulling will stop, I don't want you to stop expressing.  I don't want you to stop being you.  I want for you to be the out-spoken and boisterous woman that I am not.

I want you to keep being you no matter what the world thinks. 

And I'll keep loving the sugar that is your soul.
Love you Forever & Always,
Momma

Life Hands Me a Lesson in Parenting - The Ballet Class

Everytime I think I'm "getting it" PARENTING looks me in the eye and says, "Try again, sister, you still have no clue what you are doing."

Camdyn wanted to try ballet badly.  A few of her friends take ballet class and she was aching to try it.  I decided I would enroll her at the Y.  The cost is low, there isn't a big committment if it wasn't a fit for her, and I thought that would be a good starting point.  She took 2 classes with the 3 and 4 year olds.  She was the tallest and probably oldest child in the class.   She did exactly what she was supposed to do, and even surprised me with how quickly she caught on.  She moved through the ballet section of the class with ease and then tied on her tap shoes and learned how to shuffle step.  She liked the class, but she kept telling she wanted to be in her friend's ballet class. 

Last night, she participated in the friend's ballet class.  It was a class of 5 and 6 year olds, and Cam was now the youngest and greenest dancer on the floor.  She struggled through the barre exercises.  She didn't know the terminology and much to my surprise the teacher wasn't really helping her.  The teacher was calling out steps, but not really helping Cam, who doesn't even know what a tondue or a rond de jambe is.  Cam did fairly well at the barre and through the floor exercises, but when it came time to do their dance she began to goof off.  She's rolling on the floor, she keeps running over for a drink of water, she sits on the floor when everyone else is standing, she tries not to participate and then the teacher says, "Camdyn.  If you are not going to dance with us then you need to go sit with your mother."  So, she does.  Then, it's time for tap and things quickly get worse.  She is sliding around the floor in her tap shoes, spinning in circles, she's not following directions and the whole time, I'm sitting there STEAMING.  Why can't she just do what she is supposed to do?  Why can't she just pay attention?  My level of frustration is quickly rising. 

Then, Cam decides she doesn't want to dance anymore, so with 10 minutes left in the class she is sitting by my side watching.  I'm irritated.  I tell myself, I knew this would happen.  I knew she couldn't handle being in the class with her friend.  I tell her that we are never coming back to Ballet Class.  I'm embarrassed. 

We get in the car and I decide that I can not speak to her.  I don't want to say something I'll regret, and I'm so irritated and angry at her behavior that staying silent is the only thing I can do.  She starts to cry.  And, then I open my mouth.  "Why Camdyn?  Why can't you just do what you are asked to do?  Why don't you listen?"  She cries harder.  I cry. 

And then she says....

"I couldn't do it Mommy.  I don't know those dances.  You need to teach me.  I want to go back to that ballet class but I need to practice.  Can we practice in the garage.  NOW."

In that moment, everything that I thought I knew about my child and her behavior (good or not so good) that day, flew out the window.  The reality of what she was saying to me stuck me right in the heart. 

She was frustrated.  She was not misbehaving on purpose or just because....she was on overload.  She couldn't do the steps and she knew it.  She tried faking it by twirling in circles, or coming over for water, or just sitting on the floor because she couldn't do it.  If you've ever watched a 4 year old do ballet, it's awkward.  They don't know how to move their little bodies in specific ways.  She had no idea how to tell her little feet to do what the teacher was doing. 

Then I got angry, why wasn't the teacher taking 15 seconds out to help her?  Instead she was just giving commands and plugging along.  Granted, I understand that they can't stop the class for one child, but this is not an advanced class.  It's a class for all experience levels, so why couldn't she take a minute to help her, to praise her efforts, and to make it enjoyable for her?  The teacher certainly did that in the 3-4 year old class.

So, while I was sitting there fuming, watching Camdyn misbehaving, I should have been standing alongside her, helping her.

When I tucked her in bed last night I asked her, as I always do, "What was your favorite part of the day."  Her response, "Going to ballet, mommy."

We'll be working this weekend on our arabesque, and shuffle hop steps, and next week, I'm bringing my tap shoes, and if the teacher won't slow down to help her, then I will.