Why is she crying?
Because she is 7, and she is scared of dental work.
Why is she crying?
Because she is 11, and she is learning to tie her shoes in a brand new way, and it feels too hard.
Why is she crying?
Because she is 41, and she is frustrated by her children but feels that each failure of theirs is a failure of hers.
Because parenting is hard.
Because the cat doesn’t understand the concept of sleeping in.
Because she is bad at getting her kids to practice their piano homework.
Because she wishes she didn’t express chagrin so often towards her children.
Because she wishes she didn’t lose her sh*t so often (losing it being on quite a varied scale of intensity).
Because she is slightly scared each night that her daughter might have another seizure.
Because she is worried that her daughter who used to be failure-to-thrive is now eating more than her body seems to need.
Because her daughter ignores her repeatedly.
Because that daughter has come so far that every moment should be celebrated instead of having any tendril of frustration.
Because the house is a mess.
Because she is not as thin as she wants to be.
Because people will judge her for struggling so frequently.
Because she wants to be real and honest but also have people see her strength and understand that most of the time she really does have her sh*t together.
Because she is embarrassed by the sustained love of those who see her at her worst.
Because if only she could do things differently…
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I actually am feeling quite good about things this morning. We have had a lovely morning of snuggles, piano practice, and making Halloween costumes. Yesterday was hard, and I had a hard cry in the bathroom, sifting through the above thoughts. I’ve been noticing how much I second guess myself and judge so many of my decisions up one side and down the other. I’m aiming to do this less often. Noticing is the first step. A few times this week I did succeed at just letting go of the judgement or worry about what I was feeding the children or doing with my time. The framework of the questions and answers came from Amy’s dental appointment to take care of some cavities. It did not go well, and we need to see a pediatric dentist to complete the work. The appointment began with her crying and the dentist perplexedly asking why she was crying. He was baffled. He wasn’t judging it, but he just couldn’t comprehend it. I couldn’t comprehend his confusion. It was so clear to me that of course she was scared and of course she would be crying! At first I was grumpy, but as I sat with the grumps I realized it was a gift of a question paired with my not judging the answer. I didn’t judge Amy at all. So…. what if I didn’t judge Sarah for her struggles? (That is harder. I have an easier time being soft towards crying than I do towards screaming.) What if I didn’t judge my own struggles but saw them as similarly obviously reasonable? (That is harder still but is really truly deeply the same thing as Amy’s situation.)
A few days before Sarah’s final OT appointment, I realized that the method they taught her for tying shoes doesn’t undo as tied shoes should. When you pull the two ends then the bow should magically dissolve. Hers turned into a box knot. Every time. Even when I did it. This is a method also taught via YouTube as some magical way of tying shoes. Except no one seems to realize that you need a grown up to help you undo the resulting knot. What is amazing is that when I explained this to Sarah’s wonderful OT she had me demonstrate the way I tie my shoes (which magically untie when you pull the ends) and she helped Sarah learn it. She helped me with ideas for how to mark Sarah’s laces. Sarah will have to undo her habit, but luckily we caught it before the habit became too entrenched. I taped her laces in specific places to help her with where to grab and where to push through. She only had one time of doing this since OT, and she was frustrated, but that is par for our course. I’m still hopeful in general.
On our way home from OT, Amy started making a list of the best moments (spelled “momits”) of her life. Item number one was Sarah’s last day of OT. Amy was so proud of Sarah. The list did not go beyond item number one.
One day Sarah donned Sc’s purse and said, “I’m the mailman. I’m broughting you a package.” The earnestness just broke my heart. That seems like a sophisticated error and was beyond adorable.
The girls have had spelling homework this week. It has been wonderful watching them write out their words as I say them. Sarah has done her list perfectly each time (see, she, he, we, feet, …). Amy’s words are harder (these, safe, quote, about, again, also, cube, …) so have been a bit more challenging for her but we have had fun breaking them into easier bits to remember.
Sarah’s new favorite picture is one of Carl riding a horse. Amy still doesn’t believe it is even him because he looks so different from usual. Sarah now likes to ride the arm of our couch, pretending to be Carl riding a horse.
Thanks to wonderful suggestions from many of you after last week’s update (this is why it is good to share!), the girls now have their own mixing bowls, measuring cups, and measuring spoons. I intend to get them their own ingredients or have enough of my own that I don’t have to worry about scarcity. They have made many cupcakes and muffins, still with some of my help and input. I’m amazed at how easy it is to make palatable baked goods without a recipe. They aren’t amazing but they are sufficiently good. Sometimes the girls’ love of baking leads me to feel out of control because it seems that they are mixing something every time I turn around, but I know in the big picture this is actually wonderful.
Lots of love to all of you. Why are you feeling however you are feeling? Because you are you in this moment! May we all accept our feelings with the same protective assuredness of their validity with which I accepted Amy’s tears. May we all find such simple clarity in our muddy, complicated lives. Anyone want a muffin?
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