Hold them tight

Today Eden put her hair in a messy bun and left it. She did the same thing yesterday. It's a small step toward becoming the confident woman I see emerging. Morning after morning I have driven her to school for these two years of middle school. Her journey has been at times excruciating and at times amazing. One agony was in watching her come out of her bedroom wearing something beautiful or exotic for school and then at the last possible second retreat and change into something plain or ordinary and walk out the door with her shoulders hunched. It killed me. I couldn't convince her she looked amazing. Day after day I would watch her put her hair into a bold messy bun or braids only to jerk it all down on the drive to school and drag her fingers through a kinky mess then put on a bored expression and walk into school. I tried to see into her heart and imagine the struggle of wanting to express yourself confidently in a big school and then losing the nerve. I never went to middle school. I don't know what she's gone through. That makes it harder. It reminds me of my kids getting a virus and then catching it myself. If only I'd known how miserable they were when they caught it and not after! Oh Eden, I so wish you hadn't had to survive such a grueling experience. I wish I had focused so much more on lifting you up than complaining about how heavy you were getting. 

So I dropped her off and she said she loved me and walked inside, no drama, messy bun intact with her comfy clothes on. I have waited and waited for this day. That's when I realized something was happening with the car in front of mine. A mom and daughter were outside by the passenger door and the mom seemed flustered. The daughter seemed undecided then started to walk away and the mom stood there for a second watching then began walking around her car to the drivers door but then the girl said something and and the mom looked up. They both tried to walk opposite ways around the car back to one another and then finally the girl bumbled her way back to her mommy. She pressed her face into her mothers shoulder and the mom wrapped her arms tightly around her. I felt tears and said "oh baby" to myself just like I was that mom. The scene reached my core. Gone are the days of idle speculation, judgement and morbid curiosity. Here are the days of solidarity, support and finding the familiar in a stranger. 

When you stand at the threshold of parenting a middle schooler listen to me. Every time they throw you a curve ball, hug them and keep loving and stay consistent. They are essentially going through another toddler stage, trying everything you broke them of as toddlers and are just as desperate for your quiet solid strength and comfort now as they were at 2. Don't forget to hold them tight. 

Fist bump to the random lady in driveline. You are such a good momma.

Coming or going?

"Can I take this string to school? I need thumb tacks. I'm actually willing to miss the first bell if we can stop for thumbtacks." (Me staring blankly as I smear peanut butter on bread).

I cruise north on County Line after dropping off "do everything" and "love minecraft" who appears to be wearing size 5 pants at the age of 8. High waters are not a thing. Ugh.  My phone buzzes. Yes I endanger lives and glance at the popup. 

"I'm sick. I think I have food poisoning." 

I roll my eyes and tell Siri to send an email to Eden. 

"Diarreah or feel like you are going to puke?" 

And so it goes. I proceed to the Lexus dealer where we bought a used GM and waste two hours while they make deprecating references to the "Buick". Meanwhile Hazel consumes an entire sprite, a chocolate muffin and some mandarin oranges (Lexus dealerships offer munchies but we are like redhead step children with our certified used Buick Enclave). She and I read the only kids book in the place, a decimated children's dictionary and she announces that if we had a pet jellyfish it would be so cool. ( I stare blankly, a carefully cultivated expression that neither encourages nor condemns such nonsense). Redirect to Pinterest and the four year old is planning a five course lunch of things to cut into hearts for her Valentine's Day Party.

We go to lunch with Jenny, the aunt everyone wants who allows 4 year olds to paint her new kitchen pink. She's a veritable saint. No kidding. If I built a new house I would not set Hazel loose with a paint brush and a brimming paint jar of salmon pink but who am I to judge? 

I have a beer and laugh my way through lunch but I am beset with guilt over not buying thumb tacks or retrieving the "sick" child or sorting out all of the size 5 pants. Actually no guilt about the jellyfish... It's all there. Every day. Are we parenting enough or too much or right or wrong or just subpar? We tell stories and speculate about our own kids and other peoples kids and kids on the news but we have no idea. Then seemingly before our eyes they manifest into amazing people who make cupcakes for the Super Bowl or play a flute like an angel or build an igloo with a fire inside or dump a girl because they didn't like being a second choice and you see that they aren't programmable or predictable, they're people like the rest of us. Watching the story unfold and standing by with a fire extinguisher and a safety net is suddenly a shockingly small position to fill but I suppose there's thumbtacks and planners to buy, swimsuits to veto and love to dish out.

Parenting

My mom called yesterday and asked how the kids are doing. I rattled off my pre-teen's five latest stunts, rambled about how sweet the others are and stopped for breath. She sighed and commented that it's rather bittersweet how each child seems to pull us close and push us away at different times and you're always seeming to feel closest to a different child. I love that she had four kids and can really relate to so many things with me. Then she said a bunch of nonsense about how proud she is of my wise handling of everything. I was like a deer in the headlights. I mean Mom knows me. She knows google is my guide. She knows I have to have people explain every single social decorum to me three different ways before I actually get it.  I think, when I look around that parenting seems to be this beautiful natural evolution for other people. Somehow they have intuitions, instincts, experiences and knowledge to guide them. In recent years, this used to intimidate me which would in turn bring out my ugly side. The catty judgmental side. But that's exhausting. So after I got really tired from all of the judging, and excuse making for my ineptitude I realized I was humbled. Being humbled is something God has made a hobby of gifting me with. I know he sees something great in me or else why bother right? Wink wink! Anyway, as I've stumbled through every stage of parenting, always seeming to google the least important facets of the stage I'm in, I finally developed a new way of surviving. Yes, I literally google the sentence my kids say that leaves me curled in the fetal position and find out what "experts" think I should do. I spill it to my trusted friends and find out what they would do. Then I just kinda go limp and let it all wash over me while I scroll up and down my meaningless Facebook newsfeed because it's my guilty pleasure. I mean, that's the profoundly unprofound thing I've learned. Reacting is stressful. I feel like I'm playing the part of a mother in a movie nowadays. My oldest doesn't know what to do with me. She's spent 12 years perfecting the art of getting Mom's goat and now I just hopefully appear incredibly bored and distracted offering nothing more than a benign smile while my mind feverishly races around for a steam valve. I think of the people who come by this naturally and gaze into their child's defiant face with measured calm who maybe really are that calm inside and yes I'm jealous. Playing a part is not the same thing. The other half isn't a part. I try to savor the beautiful moments with her and bless her with approval and acceptance.  She has decided not to believe in God. Every single time she drops that bomb I feel my stomach lurch. Faith is something she has overanalyzed her whole childhood and it used to worry me so bad.  Even now as I write about it my mind is like a rat in a maze trying to figure out whether she says it to manipulate, as a desperate plea for attention or because she's truly conflicted. But deep down I know that I can only love her and let her take this journey. I think I stopped worrying per se about it sometime after Dad died and I stepped into Jesus love. That was when I realized my whole life of professing faith and belief had really been just a time of seed planting. I hadn't known Him. I didn't deny him like she is but I misunderstood faith for sure. I remember being out for a walk with a friend when I was pregnant with Hazel and casually stating that I wasn't sure I was saved. She was floored and told me once you're saved, you're always saved. I laughed her off and told her I'd been baptized twice and spent a life floating closer and further from God and wouldn't blame Him for sending me to hell at some of those points. I hadn't really known Him. Well, now I really do and I can't imagine one of my children spending their whole lives never knowing Him and if declaring an independence of Him is what someone needs to do for her journey, her story, her peace, then who am I to shame that or argue it? Additionally, if a 12 year old is guided primarily by emotions, what is the real purpose in trying to control her spiritual course? The gifts and callings of God are without repentance. My mom spoke that over me for 34 years before I had a real experience of what it meant to be His child. I think I can give my kids that much. It's funny how you can have all of your own stuff going on with people you know, unforgiveness, anger, judgement etc... then look at your child and tell them not to. I had to let go of one of my closest friendships this year. It felt like I cut my arm off. I still think about it and wish I had done things better, been a better friend, been kinder, been gentler, more intuitive, lived grace vibrantly. But deep down, I have to accept my journey. Know that I'm not there. I'm fragile. I'm not complete. I believe that God will be faithful to complete a good work in me. I believe that he will do the same for my kids. And I believe that He will give me the self control to avoid inhibiting their journeys. I try to pray for each of them several times per day and trust God with the process.