Summer's in, school's out and Earbaby is officially a Rising Senior.
Wow, where did junior year go?
I know time has moved the same rate as always, but it really seems that this, EB's penultimate high school year, just flew by. Maybe it was because I was able to be somewhat more present for it since I took the buyout from my job in October. Or because we only had a couple of big snows this winter after the hellish storms of early 2015. When I could be truly grateful I didn't have to venture out into the raging snowstorms, it didn't happen. But I was still grateful I could stay in those few cold nights I would have had to worry about scraping ice off my windshield and trying to charge up a partially shoveled driveway in the middle of the night.
I never could have predicted how the last four months of the school season would go. Having another teenager in the house changed so many dynamics. Sadly, it didn't end well. But thankfully, it did end.
And that's where a few of our best lessons were learned.
I'm hoping that the trials and tribulations of living with Maria won't sour EB on having a big and generous heart. She invited her friend into our home because EB is a child who has never known want. But when you pair someone who has only had stability with someone who hasn't had much at all, the results can be disastrous. Maria was a sweet girl. But she lacked the ability to grasp basic hygiene, both personal and in her surroundings. When one can come into a house and turn a small living space into your most disgusting episode of Hoarders, all the talking and understanding in the world isn't going to help. An agreement, a very small effort toward appeasement, and a day or so later, it was back to intervention time. It got exhausting, exasperating, disgusting, and eventually simply unworkable. When EB finally blew up, the tension in the house could be cut with a knife. Maria and EB had drama from a multitude of things, but even though Maria sincerely tried to repair the damage of that fallout, EB couldn't get past her disgust with the living situation.
Maria had only planned to stay until the end of the school year, so that at least worked out. Still her propensity for lashing out, her terrible judgment, irresponsibility, and poor impulse control showed us all what her true colors are. EB was just too angry to try to work things out with her. They will never be friends again.
By the time Maria came late at night to get her things, EB wouldn't even look at her or say goodbye. The room had to be thoroughly cleaned and she left many of her things to be thrown out. It was a sad sight as she and a friend struggled with two backpacks and a dufflebag to get up the street to catch a bus to a sibling's house. But she didn't want any more help from us. I had been angry too, but I'm a mom first. So when I hugged her goodbye, I whispered that if she ever really needed me, I would be there for her. No one, not even messed-up, emotionally immature teenagers who bite the hands that feed them, should go through life without at least one lifeboat.
I hope that EB doesn't learn the cynical lesson that no good deed goes unpunished. I don't want this episode to sour her on reaching out to people in need. And the silver lining is that when she does go to college in a little more than a year from now, she will be more familiar with the art of conflict resolution, instead of waiting until she just can't stand it anymore. By then I hope her own emotional maturity (and ability for forgiveness) will be better developed.
And I got a silver lining lesson also. One can try really hard, but there's only so much you can do when someone isn't ready, willing or able to receive your help. We were very clear about the rules about cleaning up after yourself and keeping her room clean. But I learned there are some people who truly lack the capacity to either understand what that means or have no self-awareness of how to live with other people. Would I do it again? My heart says yes, my head (and my daughter) say no.
We're also learning lessons about EB's growing independence. She and her incredibly cute boyfriend are still an item, but she still manages to spend time with other friends. With Maria in the house, EB spent as much time as she could outside of it. It bothered me tremendously that she didn't feel comfortable bringing him around because of Maria. With her gone, let's see if that changes things much. There will be separations soon, we'll be going on a vacation and he will be going away to college in the fall. I worry a little about hearts broken, but that will be a lesson learned too. If they can remain friends, or at least friendly after a fashion, this will be a good experience for her.
Then there's the lesson of driving. EB is determined to get her license in the coming months. That would be a boon for all of us, especially when (and if) I find another job. I'm not ready to retire, but while I look for the next opportunity, it will be nice not to have to factor in all her comings and goings and how I have to be responsible for that.
The warm weather beckons. The summer promises dance lessons, driving lessons, trips and college tours. No matter what the future holds, as a family, we're all good.
Showing posts with label siblings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label siblings. Show all posts
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
Chaos, confusion, conflict (and Prom 2)!
There's nothing more glorious than this time of year with recitals, proms, driving school, and college testing, said nobody, ever.
Could there be more days filled with running and strife? Well, let's see, the great sibling experiment has gone from sweetness and light to epic failure to communicate, we're counting down to the last two recitals of the year (with two shows in one of them and enough dress rehearsal machinations to choke a horse), driving school for four hours on Saturday mornings, and just to make things interesting, the first go-round of SAT and ACT testing, which apparently will determine if she gets into college or becomes homeless. No pressure, right?
Now is the time of the year when every day is a challenge, a game of beat-the-clock with all the things that need to get done, worked on, studied for, and other things that should, but won't be dealt with, so will be avoided.
Things at home began to sour between EB and her friend Maria, about three weeks after Maria moved in. At first, it was great. They would go out together, or if they were out separately, would meet up to come home together. The first hiccups came when Maria kept having to be told not to borrow EB's things without asking. Small things, mascara, clothing, towels, earrings, would inexplicably wind up in Maria's room after she was asked about it and denied knowledge. But unbeknownst to me, EB never got over an earlier problem with the house keys. See, Maria had "borrowed" her purse, and then made an incredibly stupid decision in which she collided with a parked car when she had no business driving (no license, no permit and apparently no common sense). EB's keys were lost in the car in the confusion of the crash. So EB knew about what happened, but was sworn to secrecy. When the keys finally came home because the owner of the car (who stupidly had allowed Maria to drive) showed up with them, but looking for money to fix his damaged car, the story came out.
From then, the "hiccups" got bigger, and more annoying. Maria still keeps her room like a pigsty, so while once we had thought we would allow her to stay until she finished high school, we've decided it would be best for her to find other arrangements. She finally stopped "borrowing" from EB, but only because the two had a huge argument that involved another friend. While Maria is pleasant enough to EB's dad and me, the two former good friends are more like ships that grudgingly pass in the night. And yes, I'm still telling this grown woman she has to get up and go to school, make her bed, clean her room. EB is disgusted by her and tries to stay out of her own house as much as possible. I've talked about forgiveness and compassion with EB, consequences and cleanliness with Maria. I'm just ready for both girls to get over themselves.
Then there was prom No. 2. EB again couldn't find a dress she liked and I refused to pay $200 or more for a dress she would more than likely wear only once. So we went back to Burlington Coat Factory, found an $80 dress that needed just a few adjustments to work for her. Luckily, one of my best friends knows how to make those kind of sewing miracles happen, and EB ended up loving the dress that she was first ready to throw a tantrum about. She seemed to think I cared that she threatened not to get anything. The (il)logic of a teenager is astounding. Tantrums were brewing though. She decided she didn't like the way the woman at Ulta did her makeup, although she didn't tell her. She waited until we got back in the car and then blamed me. I told her if she didn't like it, she should have spoken up, it's her face. She said I always get mad if she says something. That just wasn't true. She was just anxious and frustrated (the hairdresser was late, and traffic stunk, so once again we were rushed for time), so she decided to have a show about how ugly she looked and how it was my fault. Sorry sister, this is where I came in 15 years ago. If I could ignore your crazy rantings when you were two, I can certainly ignore them now. By the way, she looked beautiful.
Anyway, once she got home, got dressed, took a few pictures before and after incredibly cute boyfriend showed up, Cinderella was off to the ball again (good riddance). And this time, she had a ball. She got home late, exhausted, and happy. They had a great time, music and DJ were "lit" and she danced the night away. Two other girls had the same dress, another had the expensive one she wanted but didn't buy, and yet the world kept spinning on its axis. I only have to do that particular nightmare one more time. These are the times I wish I drank -- and am glad that I don't.
But we still have recitals, rehearsals, college testing and graduation (not hers, his) to get through. The calendar is filled, the tension is high and there is little relief in sight for the next month. Once again, I'll just keep swimming. I just wish it didn't feel like it was all upstream.
Could there be more days filled with running and strife? Well, let's see, the great sibling experiment has gone from sweetness and light to epic failure to communicate, we're counting down to the last two recitals of the year (with two shows in one of them and enough dress rehearsal machinations to choke a horse), driving school for four hours on Saturday mornings, and just to make things interesting, the first go-round of SAT and ACT testing, which apparently will determine if she gets into college or becomes homeless. No pressure, right?
Now is the time of the year when every day is a challenge, a game of beat-the-clock with all the things that need to get done, worked on, studied for, and other things that should, but won't be dealt with, so will be avoided.
Things at home began to sour between EB and her friend Maria, about three weeks after Maria moved in. At first, it was great. They would go out together, or if they were out separately, would meet up to come home together. The first hiccups came when Maria kept having to be told not to borrow EB's things without asking. Small things, mascara, clothing, towels, earrings, would inexplicably wind up in Maria's room after she was asked about it and denied knowledge. But unbeknownst to me, EB never got over an earlier problem with the house keys. See, Maria had "borrowed" her purse, and then made an incredibly stupid decision in which she collided with a parked car when she had no business driving (no license, no permit and apparently no common sense). EB's keys were lost in the car in the confusion of the crash. So EB knew about what happened, but was sworn to secrecy. When the keys finally came home because the owner of the car (who stupidly had allowed Maria to drive) showed up with them, but looking for money to fix his damaged car, the story came out.
From then, the "hiccups" got bigger, and more annoying. Maria still keeps her room like a pigsty, so while once we had thought we would allow her to stay until she finished high school, we've decided it would be best for her to find other arrangements. She finally stopped "borrowing" from EB, but only because the two had a huge argument that involved another friend. While Maria is pleasant enough to EB's dad and me, the two former good friends are more like ships that grudgingly pass in the night. And yes, I'm still telling this grown woman she has to get up and go to school, make her bed, clean her room. EB is disgusted by her and tries to stay out of her own house as much as possible. I've talked about forgiveness and compassion with EB, consequences and cleanliness with Maria. I'm just ready for both girls to get over themselves.
Then there was prom No. 2. EB again couldn't find a dress she liked and I refused to pay $200 or more for a dress she would more than likely wear only once. So we went back to Burlington Coat Factory, found an $80 dress that needed just a few adjustments to work for her. Luckily, one of my best friends knows how to make those kind of sewing miracles happen, and EB ended up loving the dress that she was first ready to throw a tantrum about. She seemed to think I cared that she threatened not to get anything. The (il)logic of a teenager is astounding. Tantrums were brewing though. She decided she didn't like the way the woman at Ulta did her makeup, although she didn't tell her. She waited until we got back in the car and then blamed me. I told her if she didn't like it, she should have spoken up, it's her face. She said I always get mad if she says something. That just wasn't true. She was just anxious and frustrated (the hairdresser was late, and traffic stunk, so once again we were rushed for time), so she decided to have a show about how ugly she looked and how it was my fault. Sorry sister, this is where I came in 15 years ago. If I could ignore your crazy rantings when you were two, I can certainly ignore them now. By the way, she looked beautiful.
Anyway, once she got home, got dressed, took a few pictures before and after incredibly cute boyfriend showed up, Cinderella was off to the ball again (good riddance). And this time, she had a ball. She got home late, exhausted, and happy. They had a great time, music and DJ were "lit" and she danced the night away. Two other girls had the same dress, another had the expensive one she wanted but didn't buy, and yet the world kept spinning on its axis. I only have to do that particular nightmare one more time. These are the times I wish I drank -- and am glad that I don't.
But we still have recitals, rehearsals, college testing and graduation (not hers, his) to get through. The calendar is filled, the tension is high and there is little relief in sight for the next month. Once again, I'll just keep swimming. I just wish it didn't feel like it was all upstream.
Thursday, March 31, 2016
Hiccups and (not ready for) Prom Time
As March goes out like an roaring lamb, or perhaps a docile lion, the first month as (kind of) parents of two teenage girls goes into the books. It's definitely different from being the parents of one.
When your second "child" arrives already at the legal adult age of 18, figuring out your role is interesting -- and fluid.
Maria is legally an adult, but because she is still a junior in high school, the same grade as Earbaby, it's tough to tell how involved in her life we're going to get, or even how comfortable any of us are in the process.
The first part was the basic rules of the road. Clean up after yourself. Keep us in the loop, so we know when to expect you. That was the start, but as the month wore on, more rules had to be established. Like, don't borrow things without asking (this request after a blowout with EB) and, once again (as trash and food piled up in her small living space), clean up after yourself.
It hasn't all been roses. But there are no regrets here. I explained after week three -- when EB, exasperated, frustrated and angry, stopped speaking to her friend, and I told Maria in no uncertain terms, her room was disgusting and she had to clean it immediately -- that the honeymoon period was over, and now the real work begins. See, we are a family of four now. We're allowed to get mad at each other, but we talk it out. There are no ultimatums, no threats of being tossed out. This is her home now, and she's living in a family situation where we are all accountable to each other.
Maria still has family in town and is close to her older sister. And we can't put restrictions or curfews on her comings and goings, nor do we want to. What does this unusual situation boil down to? Respect the space, the home, and the people you're living with. Legally she's an adult. But she's still a teenager. The hiccups of pseudo-parenthood will come and go until we figure it all out. In the meantime, EB has the sibling experience she used to long for. Which means sometimes it will be good and other times they will just get on each other's nerves. You can say "get out of my room" but you can't say "get out of my house." Just like in everyone else's family.
So with this new sibling dynamic in mind, we start preparing for prom season. Luckily Maria is financially independent enough to pay for her own dress. Unluckily for me, EB is going to two proms. And because she is going with the same date, that means two different dresses. Also unluckily for me, I'm expected to spring for the cost of both these frocks, although I'm not sure who made this rule.
A couple of weekends back, we three ladies decided to go prom dress shopping. This actually is fun, for those who enjoy root canals or any sort of surgical procedure sans anesthesia. In other words, Yikes!
While I realize it's been well over 40 years since my own prom (when my friend's mom made a beautiful dress for me, her daughter and our other best friend), but when did a prom dress start costing more than my car payment? Thankfully I warned EB that we weren't buying that day, just looking. The dress shop was prom heaven (or hell, if you're the mom with the checkbook). The dresses EB tried on looked fabulous. The price tags were all upwards of $400, and deposits were nonrefundable. When EB saw the two dresses she liked would have cost almost as much as what our mortgage payment used to be, even she balked (thank goodness too, this kid always sees mom as an ATM with infinite reserves). Maria didn't find anything she liked. Happily, the dress she really wanted, one a former upperclassman wore a year ago, was made available for her to rent for $150. She tried it on a week later and it fit like a glove. One dress down, two to go.
This weekend EB and I will scout out a couple of other places (including bridal shops for clearance items and secondhand stores along with a department store or two) to try and find something beautiful that doesn't cost the same as the food budget for a small country. These dresses can only be worn once, remember. Twice if she stays the same size and attends a formal affair in college in two or three years.
So we march on. Hiccups, prom, growing pains all ahead. Along with SAT and ACT prep, a third grading term and the beginning of the college panic season. Sigh. Some days I feel as if I should quote Dory from Finding Nemo, "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming."
When your second "child" arrives already at the legal adult age of 18, figuring out your role is interesting -- and fluid.
Maria is legally an adult, but because she is still a junior in high school, the same grade as Earbaby, it's tough to tell how involved in her life we're going to get, or even how comfortable any of us are in the process.
The first part was the basic rules of the road. Clean up after yourself. Keep us in the loop, so we know when to expect you. That was the start, but as the month wore on, more rules had to be established. Like, don't borrow things without asking (this request after a blowout with EB) and, once again (as trash and food piled up in her small living space), clean up after yourself.
It hasn't all been roses. But there are no regrets here. I explained after week three -- when EB, exasperated, frustrated and angry, stopped speaking to her friend, and I told Maria in no uncertain terms, her room was disgusting and she had to clean it immediately -- that the honeymoon period was over, and now the real work begins. See, we are a family of four now. We're allowed to get mad at each other, but we talk it out. There are no ultimatums, no threats of being tossed out. This is her home now, and she's living in a family situation where we are all accountable to each other.
Maria still has family in town and is close to her older sister. And we can't put restrictions or curfews on her comings and goings, nor do we want to. What does this unusual situation boil down to? Respect the space, the home, and the people you're living with. Legally she's an adult. But she's still a teenager. The hiccups of pseudo-parenthood will come and go until we figure it all out. In the meantime, EB has the sibling experience she used to long for. Which means sometimes it will be good and other times they will just get on each other's nerves. You can say "get out of my room" but you can't say "get out of my house." Just like in everyone else's family.
So with this new sibling dynamic in mind, we start preparing for prom season. Luckily Maria is financially independent enough to pay for her own dress. Unluckily for me, EB is going to two proms. And because she is going with the same date, that means two different dresses. Also unluckily for me, I'm expected to spring for the cost of both these frocks, although I'm not sure who made this rule.
A couple of weekends back, we three ladies decided to go prom dress shopping. This actually is fun, for those who enjoy root canals or any sort of surgical procedure sans anesthesia. In other words, Yikes!
While I realize it's been well over 40 years since my own prom (when my friend's mom made a beautiful dress for me, her daughter and our other best friend), but when did a prom dress start costing more than my car payment? Thankfully I warned EB that we weren't buying that day, just looking. The dress shop was prom heaven (or hell, if you're the mom with the checkbook). The dresses EB tried on looked fabulous. The price tags were all upwards of $400, and deposits were nonrefundable. When EB saw the two dresses she liked would have cost almost as much as what our mortgage payment used to be, even she balked (thank goodness too, this kid always sees mom as an ATM with infinite reserves). Maria didn't find anything she liked. Happily, the dress she really wanted, one a former upperclassman wore a year ago, was made available for her to rent for $150. She tried it on a week later and it fit like a glove. One dress down, two to go.
This weekend EB and I will scout out a couple of other places (including bridal shops for clearance items and secondhand stores along with a department store or two) to try and find something beautiful that doesn't cost the same as the food budget for a small country. These dresses can only be worn once, remember. Twice if she stays the same size and attends a formal affair in college in two or three years.
So we march on. Hiccups, prom, growing pains all ahead. Along with SAT and ACT prep, a third grading term and the beginning of the college panic season. Sigh. Some days I feel as if I should quote Dory from Finding Nemo, "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming."
Monday, February 29, 2016
Shortest, warmest, coldest, and a sister act
It's Leap Day and Earbaby turns 17 tomorrow. A year and a day ago, she was celebrating at her Sweet 16 party. A year later, she remembers she was so stressed she couldn't have a good time. She thought she would enjoy being the center of attention. She found out that she didn't. So this year she didn't want anything. Seventeen isn't special she says, and her birthday falls on a school night anyway. The boyfriend has told her he wants to take her out for her birthday, so for the first time, we won't even be a part of her Big Day. No cake, special dessert, or us. Oh well.
We're adjusting. Not to being shunned on her birthday, we have a big surprise for her anyway. But February brought us the coldest days of the year (below 0 degrees), the warmest days of the year (60 degrees), and a new addition to our family.
EB has managed to kinda, sorta gain a sibling.
Her friend, Maria, is from another country originally, but has been in this one since second grade. She came to EB's school as a Beezee, the name given to the kids who come into the school in the ninth grade instead of in the seventh (those are called Sixies, for the six years they will be there). They became friends, but not necessarily really close, until recently. Maria's living situation recently took a drastic turn. She had been living in an apartment with an older sister and two other people. But when the landlord decided to move the two others (who were the only ones on the lease) into a smaller space, Maria's sister took the opportunity to move into her college's dorm. That left Maria without a place to stay.
EB asked if she could live with us. Now, as someone who would gladly change places with the nursery rhyme mother who lived in a shoe with countless offspring, I had no problem saying yes. And her dad said yes too. That part actually surprised me a little. He is a lot more introverted, private, and slower to change than I am. But he and I both agreed on this one. Although she is already 18, because she came from another country, she is a just a junior. Still she worked to pay for a room, her own food, cellphone, and incidentals, all while going to a tough school full time. EB's dad and I were on the same page -- it just shouldn't be this hard to get through high school.
So she's living with us, she says, at least until the end of the school year. She plans on returning to her native country in the summer to visit her mother who still lives there. Then next school year, she'll figure out her living situation again.
It's only been a couple of days, but the whole month has been leading up to this adjustment. For all of us.
Now EB even acknowledges that she is spoiled. She's always been the only child, a princess who pretty much gets all of her needs met, and a fair amount of her wants. But with that, she also showed her generosity by wanting to open up her home to a friend. Yes, she's entitled and ungrateful plenty of times. Still, she also has enough friends who have troubled family lives to appreciate the life she has -- when she's not taking for granted the fact that a late night call will always, always guarantee a safe ride home. We may come mad, but we always come. She's never had to worry about paying her bills, staying in a place where the roommates and/or their visitors are sketchy, or if she will make enough money for food and rent. It's not been on her radar until now.
And Maria is mature. She immediately started looking for jobs in our neighborhood so she won't have to travel so far after school for work. She asked how much we wanted for rent, said she could help pay for groceries. We appreciate her sense of responsibility and know that it will rub off on EB, who already is grateful now that she's back babysitting and earning her own money. I was pleased the day she decided to turn down a chance to go out with friends when she was asked last minute to babysit. Because most of her friends also work part time, she is starting to feel the pull of financial independence.
There may be bumps in the road ahead. The family dynamic has changed. Maria is thus far a little reticent, not wanting to intrude or make waves. But she's grateful and sweet, and just the kind of sibling EB needs. Their relationship is not volatile like the one EB has had with her best friend Brenda, with whom she clashed after EB's boyfriend came into the picture. Those two are slowly becoming friends again, but EB doesn't feel the same and thinks she never will. With Maria, there is an easier flow.
Sibling rivalry may rear its head yet in the days, weeks, months to come. But Maria is good for Earbaby. Actually, she's probably good for all of us.
We're adjusting. Not to being shunned on her birthday, we have a big surprise for her anyway. But February brought us the coldest days of the year (below 0 degrees), the warmest days of the year (60 degrees), and a new addition to our family.
EB has managed to kinda, sorta gain a sibling.
Her friend, Maria, is from another country originally, but has been in this one since second grade. She came to EB's school as a Beezee, the name given to the kids who come into the school in the ninth grade instead of in the seventh (those are called Sixies, for the six years they will be there). They became friends, but not necessarily really close, until recently. Maria's living situation recently took a drastic turn. She had been living in an apartment with an older sister and two other people. But when the landlord decided to move the two others (who were the only ones on the lease) into a smaller space, Maria's sister took the opportunity to move into her college's dorm. That left Maria without a place to stay.
EB asked if she could live with us. Now, as someone who would gladly change places with the nursery rhyme mother who lived in a shoe with countless offspring, I had no problem saying yes. And her dad said yes too. That part actually surprised me a little. He is a lot more introverted, private, and slower to change than I am. But he and I both agreed on this one. Although she is already 18, because she came from another country, she is a just a junior. Still she worked to pay for a room, her own food, cellphone, and incidentals, all while going to a tough school full time. EB's dad and I were on the same page -- it just shouldn't be this hard to get through high school.
So she's living with us, she says, at least until the end of the school year. She plans on returning to her native country in the summer to visit her mother who still lives there. Then next school year, she'll figure out her living situation again.
It's only been a couple of days, but the whole month has been leading up to this adjustment. For all of us.
Now EB even acknowledges that she is spoiled. She's always been the only child, a princess who pretty much gets all of her needs met, and a fair amount of her wants. But with that, she also showed her generosity by wanting to open up her home to a friend. Yes, she's entitled and ungrateful plenty of times. Still, she also has enough friends who have troubled family lives to appreciate the life she has -- when she's not taking for granted the fact that a late night call will always, always guarantee a safe ride home. We may come mad, but we always come. She's never had to worry about paying her bills, staying in a place where the roommates and/or their visitors are sketchy, or if she will make enough money for food and rent. It's not been on her radar until now.
And Maria is mature. She immediately started looking for jobs in our neighborhood so she won't have to travel so far after school for work. She asked how much we wanted for rent, said she could help pay for groceries. We appreciate her sense of responsibility and know that it will rub off on EB, who already is grateful now that she's back babysitting and earning her own money. I was pleased the day she decided to turn down a chance to go out with friends when she was asked last minute to babysit. Because most of her friends also work part time, she is starting to feel the pull of financial independence.
There may be bumps in the road ahead. The family dynamic has changed. Maria is thus far a little reticent, not wanting to intrude or make waves. But she's grateful and sweet, and just the kind of sibling EB needs. Their relationship is not volatile like the one EB has had with her best friend Brenda, with whom she clashed after EB's boyfriend came into the picture. Those two are slowly becoming friends again, but EB doesn't feel the same and thinks she never will. With Maria, there is an easier flow.
Sibling rivalry may rear its head yet in the days, weeks, months to come. But Maria is good for Earbaby. Actually, she's probably good for all of us.
Sunday, November 29, 2015
Gratitude
The food coma is over. At least for the weekend. There are still leftovers in the fridge, and as we await the next full-on culinary attack, I figure this is a good time to count my blessings (which thankfully are mainly calorie free).
I'm eternally thankful for Earbaby. She is a royal pain in the (well, you know) many days, but she's also healthy. And anyone who has been even a little ill knows that without your health, you have nothing. EB has always been a healthy kid, which I'm assuming comes more from God's grace than the nutrition(less) diet she has been on. Apparently there's enough in her DNA to counteract a lifetime of sandwiches, not enough sleep and probably too much exercise.
And I'm grateful for the good moods. She's funny, insightful, loving, giving, forgiving and generous to a fault (especially with our money). She doesn't seem to lack for friends and when I hear of other people with teens who struggle in that department, I am a little more grateful. Someone with 11 children recently told me "only children are lonely children." She seemed to pity me. I told her she was mistaken. Outings with friends and sleepovers are always encouraged and granted. Friends are welcome here always. She cherishes her alone time, such as it is. Teenagers are always connected. They text and facetime constantly and can be in a room alone and still be with a group of people.
Even as I try to figure out what I'm going to pursue for work the rest of my life, I remain grateful for the time. The first few weeks of being unemployed were a blur of busyness and panic, along with recurring doses of depression. Lunch with a friend and former colleague gave me the perspective I need, and helped me to see that I'm not alone. But I won't lie, slowly disconnecting is still disorienting.
I'm grateful for my in-laws. I've been truly blessed by being a part of my husband's family. When others are frustrated by snarkiness, digs, passive-aggressive and downright insults from the relatives they acquired through marriage, I can only listen and sympathize. But I can't relate. I've always liked them and they seem to like me. When my father-in-law died at the beginning of the year, my husband's family pulled together, not apart. No one took opportunities for nastiness or visitations to former fallouts or perceived slights. As someone who has seen firsthand how death and/or divorce changes people for the worst, I was pleased, but not at all surprised, that none of those traits came to pass. I married into a truly classy clan.
I have nothing but gratitude for the sacrifice my younger sister makes every day in caring for our elderly mother. It's not easy to be the primary caregiver of a parent, even when the parent is relatively healthy. It's a constant battle when one person wants to be treated as the adult she is and the other struggles to keep the former parent-child paradigm. My sister is truly a saint, even though I'm sure there are plenty of days when her saintliness is truly put to the test. I appreciate her, even when she thinks no one knows how hard it really is for her. I know. We all know.
And then there is also gratitude that my mother is still alive. She is blind, which limits her quality of life. But at 92, she is otherwise still healthy, fully cognizant and still engaged in the goings-on of her family, to the extent that she can be. If she weren't blind, she would probably be more adventurous, but she does get some enjoyment from time spent with her family. My hope is that she will be able to spend more time with EB in the coming year. But I'm grateful that EB has at least one grandparent left. It's an important bond for both of them.
I'm grateful for my husband, who still seems happy that I'm home every day. This change in our life plans has been jarring for me, but he has embraced having me home full-time for the first time in more than 15 years. The days of juggling have gotten a lot easier for both of us. I had figured after a couple of weeks, he would be begging me to find a job, any job, just to get out of the house. Instead, he's been encouraging me to just relax, take time for myself. Everyone is telling me to give myself permission to take it easy for awhile.
I'll be really grateful on the day I figure out just how to do that.
I'm eternally thankful for Earbaby. She is a royal pain in the (well, you know) many days, but she's also healthy. And anyone who has been even a little ill knows that without your health, you have nothing. EB has always been a healthy kid, which I'm assuming comes more from God's grace than the nutrition(less) diet she has been on. Apparently there's enough in her DNA to counteract a lifetime of sandwiches, not enough sleep and probably too much exercise.
And I'm grateful for the good moods. She's funny, insightful, loving, giving, forgiving and generous to a fault (especially with our money). She doesn't seem to lack for friends and when I hear of other people with teens who struggle in that department, I am a little more grateful. Someone with 11 children recently told me "only children are lonely children." She seemed to pity me. I told her she was mistaken. Outings with friends and sleepovers are always encouraged and granted. Friends are welcome here always. She cherishes her alone time, such as it is. Teenagers are always connected. They text and facetime constantly and can be in a room alone and still be with a group of people.
Even as I try to figure out what I'm going to pursue for work the rest of my life, I remain grateful for the time. The first few weeks of being unemployed were a blur of busyness and panic, along with recurring doses of depression. Lunch with a friend and former colleague gave me the perspective I need, and helped me to see that I'm not alone. But I won't lie, slowly disconnecting is still disorienting.
I'm grateful for my in-laws. I've been truly blessed by being a part of my husband's family. When others are frustrated by snarkiness, digs, passive-aggressive and downright insults from the relatives they acquired through marriage, I can only listen and sympathize. But I can't relate. I've always liked them and they seem to like me. When my father-in-law died at the beginning of the year, my husband's family pulled together, not apart. No one took opportunities for nastiness or visitations to former fallouts or perceived slights. As someone who has seen firsthand how death and/or divorce changes people for the worst, I was pleased, but not at all surprised, that none of those traits came to pass. I married into a truly classy clan.
I have nothing but gratitude for the sacrifice my younger sister makes every day in caring for our elderly mother. It's not easy to be the primary caregiver of a parent, even when the parent is relatively healthy. It's a constant battle when one person wants to be treated as the adult she is and the other struggles to keep the former parent-child paradigm. My sister is truly a saint, even though I'm sure there are plenty of days when her saintliness is truly put to the test. I appreciate her, even when she thinks no one knows how hard it really is for her. I know. We all know.
And then there is also gratitude that my mother is still alive. She is blind, which limits her quality of life. But at 92, she is otherwise still healthy, fully cognizant and still engaged in the goings-on of her family, to the extent that she can be. If she weren't blind, she would probably be more adventurous, but she does get some enjoyment from time spent with her family. My hope is that she will be able to spend more time with EB in the coming year. But I'm grateful that EB has at least one grandparent left. It's an important bond for both of them.
I'm grateful for my husband, who still seems happy that I'm home every day. This change in our life plans has been jarring for me, but he has embraced having me home full-time for the first time in more than 15 years. The days of juggling have gotten a lot easier for both of us. I had figured after a couple of weeks, he would be begging me to find a job, any job, just to get out of the house. Instead, he's been encouraging me to just relax, take time for myself. Everyone is telling me to give myself permission to take it easy for awhile.
I'll be really grateful on the day I figure out just how to do that.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Dark places
Some heartbreaks don't heal. We spend our lives telling our children that time heals all wounds (and sometimes wounds all heels).
But the reality is, some heartbreaks are forever.
This was a hard week that ended yet another hard, cruel month. A lovely family lost a child.
Like ripples in a pond, the reverberations of a suicide reach far and wide. And even though I never met this beautiful young man from a really nice family, I just can't stop being so very sad.
The last week in March started out badly enough. I had been suffering from a cold that forced me on the DL (that's disabled list for you nonsports speakers) for the better part of a week. It was the first really bad illness of the winter (being sick of shoveling actually doesn't count) and I missed work, but couldn't even revel in staying home because I felt so very awful.
And Earbaby hasn't been ill, but she's been so overwhelmed and overwrought, I didn't even know how to comfort her. This is just a tough year in a really tough school. One subject has really been kicking her butt, a college-level course with too much reading in too short of a time. She had to skip dance several times because she just had too much homework. One day she got in the car and just cried. There was too much to do, and she's not getting any sleep. And she says even the smart kids are staying up until 1 or 2 a.m. And they're all up by 5:30 a.m. to start the whole process over. She's barely staying awake in class, she's running as fast as she can and still believes she's falling behind, and there just aren't enough hours in the day.
And all I could do was tell her to breathe, make a cup of tea and take 15 minutes to decompress and gather her thoughts. Before she got back into the rat race.
And I started to wonder, are we just making everything too hard?
Now I'm no helicopter parent. EB has plenty of freedom, because that's the only way she'll ever learn how to make good life choices. She has to have the practice. And a little hard work isn't bad. But when you're 16, you agonize that not making the honor roll will doom you to a life of the permanent underclass of barely working poor. That a missed homework assignment or a failed geometry or physics test means your life's work will be forever defined by the words: "Do you want fries with that?"
So we've been trying to balance encouragement and help, as in finding tutors for her tougher subjects, with assuring her that doing her best, trying her hardest, really is OK. How do you add encouragement without making it feel like pressure? How do you convince a teenager that sooner than they think, school will be over and education will be what they have left long after they've forgotten what they've been taught?
And we know that life isn't supposed to be easy. Learning how to struggle now and come through the storm will prepare her for life's challenges that will come when she's responsible for her own food, shelter and well-being.
But it isn't supposed to be so hard that we lose sight of the light at the end of the tunnel, or that we stop believing there really is a light there.
So this was where EB was when she read a text from a friend who told her that her brother had killed himself. Only a couple of years out of high school himself, he apparently had slipped into one of the dark places where one believes there is no light ahead.
EB was devastated, for her friend, their family, and many others left with a break in a heart that won't fully heal.
Parents, teachers, extended family members, don't fool yourselves. The siren song of suicide is out there. EB has had at least one close friend who attempted it (thankfully unsuccessfully), others who are self-mutilating; children, beautiful, bright, intelligent children, who are in so much emotional pain they don't realize that the light may be dim, but it really is there at the end of the tunnel. EB gets afraid when her friends go into the dark places. We've talked about it; I've let her know that her dad and I are always here, we're always in that light -- not just for her, but for anyone else who needs a soft place to land.
In the few days that followed came a wake, a funeral and EB reaching out to her friend time and again to make sure she was OK.
This is a family of faith. My fervent prayer is that their faith will sustain them as they rebuild their lives around the hole left in their hearts. I wish them God's love and peace.
I've told EB many times when she is in despair that asking for help isn't a sign of weakness. As human beings, we are social animals, our strength is in the comfort we give and receive from each other. Sometimes those dark places overwhelm and threaten to overtake us. Those whispers that tell us that everyone is better off without us become louder and more insistent. But those whispers speak a grave untruth. We all matter.
Let's continue to talk to our children, our teens, our young adults, our family and friends. Let's be better and kinder with each other. Let's remind each other that we all matter, we're all important and we're all loved.
Let's shine a light on all those dark places, through therapy, through medication, through understanding without stigma.
Please God, let's not bury any more of our babies.
But the reality is, some heartbreaks are forever.
This was a hard week that ended yet another hard, cruel month. A lovely family lost a child.
Like ripples in a pond, the reverberations of a suicide reach far and wide. And even though I never met this beautiful young man from a really nice family, I just can't stop being so very sad.
The last week in March started out badly enough. I had been suffering from a cold that forced me on the DL (that's disabled list for you nonsports speakers) for the better part of a week. It was the first really bad illness of the winter (being sick of shoveling actually doesn't count) and I missed work, but couldn't even revel in staying home because I felt so very awful.
And Earbaby hasn't been ill, but she's been so overwhelmed and overwrought, I didn't even know how to comfort her. This is just a tough year in a really tough school. One subject has really been kicking her butt, a college-level course with too much reading in too short of a time. She had to skip dance several times because she just had too much homework. One day she got in the car and just cried. There was too much to do, and she's not getting any sleep. And she says even the smart kids are staying up until 1 or 2 a.m. And they're all up by 5:30 a.m. to start the whole process over. She's barely staying awake in class, she's running as fast as she can and still believes she's falling behind, and there just aren't enough hours in the day.
And all I could do was tell her to breathe, make a cup of tea and take 15 minutes to decompress and gather her thoughts. Before she got back into the rat race.
And I started to wonder, are we just making everything too hard?
Now I'm no helicopter parent. EB has plenty of freedom, because that's the only way she'll ever learn how to make good life choices. She has to have the practice. And a little hard work isn't bad. But when you're 16, you agonize that not making the honor roll will doom you to a life of the permanent underclass of barely working poor. That a missed homework assignment or a failed geometry or physics test means your life's work will be forever defined by the words: "Do you want fries with that?"
So we've been trying to balance encouragement and help, as in finding tutors for her tougher subjects, with assuring her that doing her best, trying her hardest, really is OK. How do you add encouragement without making it feel like pressure? How do you convince a teenager that sooner than they think, school will be over and education will be what they have left long after they've forgotten what they've been taught?
And we know that life isn't supposed to be easy. Learning how to struggle now and come through the storm will prepare her for life's challenges that will come when she's responsible for her own food, shelter and well-being.
But it isn't supposed to be so hard that we lose sight of the light at the end of the tunnel, or that we stop believing there really is a light there.
So this was where EB was when she read a text from a friend who told her that her brother had killed himself. Only a couple of years out of high school himself, he apparently had slipped into one of the dark places where one believes there is no light ahead.
EB was devastated, for her friend, their family, and many others left with a break in a heart that won't fully heal.
Parents, teachers, extended family members, don't fool yourselves. The siren song of suicide is out there. EB has had at least one close friend who attempted it (thankfully unsuccessfully), others who are self-mutilating; children, beautiful, bright, intelligent children, who are in so much emotional pain they don't realize that the light may be dim, but it really is there at the end of the tunnel. EB gets afraid when her friends go into the dark places. We've talked about it; I've let her know that her dad and I are always here, we're always in that light -- not just for her, but for anyone else who needs a soft place to land.
In the few days that followed came a wake, a funeral and EB reaching out to her friend time and again to make sure she was OK.
This is a family of faith. My fervent prayer is that their faith will sustain them as they rebuild their lives around the hole left in their hearts. I wish them God's love and peace.
I've told EB many times when she is in despair that asking for help isn't a sign of weakness. As human beings, we are social animals, our strength is in the comfort we give and receive from each other. Sometimes those dark places overwhelm and threaten to overtake us. Those whispers that tell us that everyone is better off without us become louder and more insistent. But those whispers speak a grave untruth. We all matter.
Let's continue to talk to our children, our teens, our young adults, our family and friends. Let's be better and kinder with each other. Let's remind each other that we all matter, we're all important and we're all loved.
Let's shine a light on all those dark places, through therapy, through medication, through understanding without stigma.
Please God, let's not bury any more of our babies.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Sibling revelry
One of the downsides of being an only child, and there are a few, is the lack of sibling rivalry. While this may be an upside sometimes to spoiled only children like Earbaby, it's a downside in learning how to negotiate, retaliate, conspire and the fine art of tattling.
EB has heard the word "no" probably a lot fewer times than she should. She sometimes will admit she's spoiled, but a second or two later, will complain about the struggle she has with being an only child, what with not always getting such necessities as iTunes cards on demand, or being told that going to Starbucks nearly every day is turning her into a crack baby, addiction-wise.
My husband and I both are middle children of three. There is no substitution for the shared history of family, both good and bad. If you're lucky, and we both are, you actually like your siblings and as you become middle-aged orphans (we've each lost a parent), that shared history and shared grief can help you through the worst times of your life.
I worry that EB won't have that. She's the youngest grandchild on my side of the family tree and the second youngest on her dad's. Her cousins on his side are closer in age and she used to see them more often, before life got in the way. Now we're pretty much limited to holidays, but when they were younger, and she spent more time with her cousins she is closest to in age, she got a taste of the sibling stuff. The three girls could get along for a good 3-5 minutes before the bickering began. Sleepovers were nightmares for the hosting parent. Yet they love each other and beg to spend time together every family gathering. Now that they're older, I may even relent from my previous ban of sleepovers at my house on my watch.
EB would fight with these two sisters the way she never would with friends. The two sisters would argue about everything, par for the course for sisters about three years apart. EB is exactly 1 1/2 years younger than one and 1 1/2 years older than the other. Just enough of a space for the three to try, and many times fail, to get along for any extended length of time.
Now, on the other side of the family, she is nine years younger than her cousins closest in age. When she was a baby, she was their baby when we saw them, which was only once or twice a year. But as she, and they, grew up, she was able to relate to them not as a cute little plaything, but as a fully formed human being.
This summer I got a glimpse of her getting a chance at being the younger sister. First, Zoe came to visit. Her friend Noelle was getting married and Zoe was in the wedding party. After the festivities, Zoe came to stay with us for a few days before heading back home. And EB, whose baseline demeanor many days is sullen, reveled in her visit.
Her cousin is easily one of the most loving, caring and all-around best people on earth. She has the unique position of being both an only child and a child with siblings. She is her mother's (my sister's) only child, but has older siblings from her father's previous wife. The closest one to her age was a teenager when she was born, and there was a prickly period during her formative years, with her teenage sister having natural feelings of jealousy (how would you like to have been the baby for 15 years and then suddenly "replaced"?), yet now that Zoe is a grown woman herself, their relationship has become closer. Zoe was an aunt at a very young age and her oldest niece is only a year older than her youngest cousin.
Zoe came to her second home here in Boston and swept EB out of her teenaged funk. She could talk to her and tease her (she told EB she was a troll and EB responded she would spit in her food) and EB could give as good as she got, one skill only learned by having and being a sibling.
When she and I went to visit my mother before school started, she spent time with another cousin, Leila, and again got the little sister treatment. And also in a good way. Leila is the last cousin left in the city. Zoe went to teach in South Korea, where Leila's sister Lana is already teaching, and Leila's twin brother Joseph, moved down under.
So for a couple of short days, Leila, herself a little sister, got to be a big sister. The two girls holed up in a bedroom, talking, sharing music, hair tips and facial masks.
EB gets the best from her cousins, if only for a short while. I treasure these relationships with her extended family. She won't have the shared history with siblings that her dad and I had. But with any luck at all, she'll be close enough with her cousins, all of them, to know that even when she becomes a middle-aged orphan, she'll never be alone.
EB has heard the word "no" probably a lot fewer times than she should. She sometimes will admit she's spoiled, but a second or two later, will complain about the struggle she has with being an only child, what with not always getting such necessities as iTunes cards on demand, or being told that going to Starbucks nearly every day is turning her into a crack baby, addiction-wise.
My husband and I both are middle children of three. There is no substitution for the shared history of family, both good and bad. If you're lucky, and we both are, you actually like your siblings and as you become middle-aged orphans (we've each lost a parent), that shared history and shared grief can help you through the worst times of your life.
I worry that EB won't have that. She's the youngest grandchild on my side of the family tree and the second youngest on her dad's. Her cousins on his side are closer in age and she used to see them more often, before life got in the way. Now we're pretty much limited to holidays, but when they were younger, and she spent more time with her cousins she is closest to in age, she got a taste of the sibling stuff. The three girls could get along for a good 3-5 minutes before the bickering began. Sleepovers were nightmares for the hosting parent. Yet they love each other and beg to spend time together every family gathering. Now that they're older, I may even relent from my previous ban of sleepovers at my house on my watch.
EB would fight with these two sisters the way she never would with friends. The two sisters would argue about everything, par for the course for sisters about three years apart. EB is exactly 1 1/2 years younger than one and 1 1/2 years older than the other. Just enough of a space for the three to try, and many times fail, to get along for any extended length of time.
Now, on the other side of the family, she is nine years younger than her cousins closest in age. When she was a baby, she was their baby when we saw them, which was only once or twice a year. But as she, and they, grew up, she was able to relate to them not as a cute little plaything, but as a fully formed human being.
This summer I got a glimpse of her getting a chance at being the younger sister. First, Zoe came to visit. Her friend Noelle was getting married and Zoe was in the wedding party. After the festivities, Zoe came to stay with us for a few days before heading back home. And EB, whose baseline demeanor many days is sullen, reveled in her visit.
Her cousin is easily one of the most loving, caring and all-around best people on earth. She has the unique position of being both an only child and a child with siblings. She is her mother's (my sister's) only child, but has older siblings from her father's previous wife. The closest one to her age was a teenager when she was born, and there was a prickly period during her formative years, with her teenage sister having natural feelings of jealousy (how would you like to have been the baby for 15 years and then suddenly "replaced"?), yet now that Zoe is a grown woman herself, their relationship has become closer. Zoe was an aunt at a very young age and her oldest niece is only a year older than her youngest cousin.
Zoe came to her second home here in Boston and swept EB out of her teenaged funk. She could talk to her and tease her (she told EB she was a troll and EB responded she would spit in her food) and EB could give as good as she got, one skill only learned by having and being a sibling.
When she and I went to visit my mother before school started, she spent time with another cousin, Leila, and again got the little sister treatment. And also in a good way. Leila is the last cousin left in the city. Zoe went to teach in South Korea, where Leila's sister Lana is already teaching, and Leila's twin brother Joseph, moved down under.
So for a couple of short days, Leila, herself a little sister, got to be a big sister. The two girls holed up in a bedroom, talking, sharing music, hair tips and facial masks.
EB gets the best from her cousins, if only for a short while. I treasure these relationships with her extended family. She won't have the shared history with siblings that her dad and I had. But with any luck at all, she'll be close enough with her cousins, all of them, to know that even when she becomes a middle-aged orphan, she'll never be alone.
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