Me and My Monkey

Community and friendship are important parts of being human. I've struggled much of my life to find good solid friendships and community where I feel like I have a true place or purpose. Stan has had some of that struggle, although he's also had more success than me. Here in the midst of life with three kids, we've barely got time to manage our own relationship so friendships are becoming increasingly nebulous. Recognizing that neither of us can meet all of the other's relational needs, we often talk about prioritizing friends but it's still not happening. For me, part of that is time but in all honesty, part of it is on purpose. The introvert in me doesn't want to handle the stress of exerting myself. The kid in me still feels scarred from years of being rejected. I thought for sure I'd be over this by now.

Monkey is having friend problems too. Last year some of the people she liked chose not to be her friends anymore but it was ok because she was able to develop some new, and incredibly close, friendships. The two girls she palled around with were delightful people who helped her try new things. They were true friends and didn't pull any of the nasty mind-games that girls that age are prone to. This year neither girl is in her class (one isn't at the school) and she's had to start from scratch in the search for pals. The girls in her class have all paired off into besties and there's no room for Monkey. She's working hard on her friendship skills and even got up the guts to ask a few of them if she could be their friends. They said no. She's tried every thing that any of us can think of and still finds herself without friends, with more than half the school year left to go.

The other day Monkey came home mopey. She was picking on both her sisters, which gave me a clue that maybe something wasn't right. After chatting for a little bit, she said "I don't think I can learn well if I don't have any friends. Friends are a big part of what we do at school and how we learn." The poor dear. The sweet, sweet, lovable darling. I scooped her into my lap and the two of us sat there bewildered and teary-eyed for a little while. I didn't have any way of answering that kind of pain.

There are lots of things that I choose to do, not necessarily for myself but because it sets a good example for the kids. I despise carrots but I try to eat them when they're on my plate. I sometimes take them out with me when I go running, even when it limits my choices. I get up and clean the house even if I don't feel like it. I'm starting to wonder if prioritizing my friends might fit in that category too. Is there a way that overcoming my own friendship fears can help Monkey?

Music and Poetry

I have very fond memories of Julie Andrews' voice. There's something about her voice that means comfort and warmth. I want to believe that it's from more than just The Sound of Music but most likely my impression is from watching that movie over and over again, trying to mimic the sounds, and wondering if my life would ever be so adventurous and glamorous. The other day I was listening to the radio and heard that Julie Andrews and her daughter would be on the show the next hour, talking about their new children's poetry book. Yay!

I enjoyed listening to Ms. Andrews and her daughter Emma read poetry and tell stories. Some of the poems were wonderfully familiar and some were deliciously new to me. I was so caught up that I went online to Amazon to find the book. Then, in the midst of their storytelling, Ms. Andrews said something that made me catch my breath. She was talking of how poetry became so important to her, that it was a joy and passion of her father and a way of connecting with him, especially after her parents divorced. The interviewer asked Ms. Andrews if she ever became close with her stepfather and the reply was something along the lines of "no. He taught me to sing, but we never became close because that would have been betraying my father." Her stepfather taught her to sing - and singing has been the essence of her whole life and career - but she would not allow a close relationship with him because to do so would have signaled betrayal.

I hope, I hope, I hope that those words are never said about me. Given our custody schedule, Monkey and Peanut spend more time with me than they do their mother. Their lives will undoubtedly be influenced by my actions. I work hard to love them wholeheartedly, as if they were my own. I make the same kind of sacrifices for them that I make for Puddin'. Sometimes we get along swimmingly and sometimes we fight but, they are my children, regardless of what the genes say. So when I hear a line like the one Ms. Andrews uttered, I feel scared. What if the good will we have now doesn't last? Stan and I work hard to communicate that there is room for lots of people to love them and often reiterate that I am not looking to replace their mom. They actually call me their "extra mom." But I know that their mom sometimes feels threatened. She feels left out when I'm able to do special things with them or when I'm there to lead them through a milestone. Sometimes she says things to Monkey & Peanut that causes them feel guilty or that they feel pressures them to choose her over me. All I can do is keep loving them and hope that when they are old enough they can look back and see that there is enough love to go around.

There's an irony in this for me: Ms. Andrews' most iconic role was that of a stepmother, and a darned good one, too. In stepmom lore the woman is always sainted or wicked - there is no neutral or halfway for stepmoms. The Sound of Music presents the archtype for saintly stepmothering. So many women feel pressured and defeated by this imagery and yet the actress who played it had rejected that person in her own life. Her words have unearthed in me a vulnerability that I don't like to look at.

Of course, it goes without saying that I don't know Ms. Andrews or the circumstances of her growing up years. I don't want to judge her. In fact, I'm still as enamored as ever with her voice, I'm still hankering after the poetry book, and I have an irrepressible urge to watch The Sound of Music.

Just what I wanted

Stan had a meeting tonight so in order to have family dinner all together it had to be early - no problem. 2 of the 3 kids had to visit the pediatrician this afternoon - hmmm, this complicates things just a little. Around 3 p.m. I suddenly realized I needed to leave immediately in order to go get gas, pick up the kids, and rush to the doctor's office. I decided to grab some extra books for Monkey & Peanut so they'd have everything they needed to finish their homework during the expected long wait. I checked the diaper bag to make sure there was something to entertain Puddin' and rushed out the door, with a shocked and unhappy toddler. (Transition is KEY these days and she didn't get what she needed.)

We got to the doctor office on time, having found parking much easier than usual. We were called back just about on schedule but as expected we sat in the small exam room for quite some time. The medical tasks that needed to be done were really quick and easy but that didn't get us seen any faster. By the time we left the office - with one kid pronounced free of ear infections or clogged tubes and the toddler wincing from her swine flu shot - it was already time to get dinner on the table. I made a quick call to the fabulous Chinese restaurant near our house and made a blind stab at the menu in my memory. We got home, jumped out of the van and as soon as we entered the house Monkey and Peanut set the table while I pulled dinner out of the bag and Stan tried to convince Puddin' that food was good enough reason to stop crying.

Whew! We were all sitting down to dinner, starting to check in regarding each other's days when we had two spills in quick succession from the younger two kids. Monkey put it nicely when she said "it's not a crisis, just not what you wanted." So very true. Most of us weren't done yet when Stan jumped up to leave. With quick kisses and goodbyes the chaos ramped up a little more. As soon as Stan was out the door, each child found her own way to flip out. Peanut started arguing and talking back. That girl has enough sass in her for all three kids and I don't have the patience for any of it. I sent her to her room with the mandate to finish homework (our long doctor office wait wasn't quite long enough) and to calm down. Then I sent Monkey off to her work space in the basement to finish her own work. She hadn't been down there long when I started to hear anxious calls and cries from downstairs. I peeked in long enough to make sure she wasn't hurt and then remind her that she needs to actually come get me rather than scream across the house. Instead, she simply broke into hysterics. Meanwhile, Puddin' was feeling pain from her shot, anxious because of the chaos in the house, and had been robbed of transition yet again this afternoon. I sat on the floor and built towers for her to knock down and she started to come out of her funk. Monkey finally got up enough nerve to come upstairs and tell me that she found a bug on her back pack. She was afraid to walk by it so she couldn't come upstairs to talk to me. She didn't want to touch her back pack even after it had hopped away just in case. She couldn't possibly do her homework and now she was stuck! "Your foot alone is ten times bigger than the bug." "The bug is worried about the giant that's coming to attack it." "I don't know of a single bug in our neighborhood that could do you any real harm." Each time I'd have her almost calm she'd work herself into a frenzy again. After about 5 minutes of this she finally felt brave enough to face the bug - this time with shoes on. During all this, Peanut finished her homework but wouldn't admit it so she didn't have to come talk to me. I finally got her out of her room and told her that the original thing she was fighting me about was only annoying but talking back - that makes me mad. Talking back to any of your parents is never an acceptable option. We agreed on a consequence of written apology, complete with full sentences, correct capitalization and punctuation.

All three kids were finally back in control and emotionally stable. We were in the home stretch now - I just had to get them clean, ready for bed and down for the night. After showers, Peanut wanted rollers in her hair and Monkey needed some help reviewing for two tests. Puddin', of course, just wanted to be where the action was. So there we were, all four of us crowded into a tiny bathroom barely big enough for two - while I dried and rolled Peanut's hair, ran multiplication facts and weather instruments with Monkey, and babbled with Puddin'. As we were finishing all this (just barely in time for the assigned bed time) it occurred to me that this is the kind of moment that kids remember. It was hectic and vibrant, but in the end it was good. There we were, each child getting a need met and able to meet someone else's need too. Each of us was actively engaged in life together. I never would have guessed it at the start of this afternoon but this evening proved to be one of my prouder moments as a mom.

The Halloween That Wasn't

After a post about Halloween costumes quite some time ago the matter quickly resolved itself and I never brought it up again. We made some adjustments to the custody schedule, which put Monkey & Peanut with their mom for the holiday. She volunteered to take on costumes and from that point on, Stan and I were done. A few of the other kids in the apartment complex were going as characters from Wizard of Oz so Monkey & Peanut joined. The idea was their mom's but they seemed happy to go along. I was proud of them for embracing costumes that were not pretty by nature. We reminded them of how proud they had been of their costumes the year before (when they designed and created them with very little help) and gently encouraged them to do as much work themselves as they could. Turns out that their mom did almost all of it. It also turns out that it wasn't a big deal to them. Hopefully this will be one of those lessons learned - as much as I value creativity and independent action at my house, it doesn't hurt any of us to let someone else do the work every once in a while.

Puddin' was also easy. I found a $2 bear costume at a consignment sale. It's a zip-up vest with a hood so paired with neutral clothing it was an easy and toddler-appropriate costume. She adores the thing and will sometimes ask for her "bear cos" so she can walk around snuggling it. On Halloween night we took her to a grand total of one house and didn't accept any candy. She's certainly not going to eat the candy, her sisters don't need any more than they've got, and it was raining most of the evening. Puddin' took matters into her own hands, however, and went trick-or-treating in our own candy bin. I made her put it all back, which was met with some very appropriate growls.