Facing the Monsters

This morning I faced off with a three-horned monster. As you can tell by my living to write about it, I believe I won. It was fierce and I'm quite sure I'll have to face it again (please not today - or at least not again before I've had coffee).

This morning's monster was a hand-me-down snowsuit and was fortified with a bit of my own exhaustion and self-doubt. The weather has taken an unexpected turn in the last 48 hours and we were greeted yesterday with a stiff breeze and about an inch of snow. Yesterday morning was a little rushed and I didn't fully realize how cold it was - so the kids all got off to school wearing an odd mismatch of cold weather gear (*full disclosure - I had been dancing at a Bruce Springsteen concert until midnight the night before and so the fact that the children got out the door at all seemed like a victory*).

When I walked up to meet them after school, I realized what a motley crew they looked like - nothing matched - nothing quite put together - but they seemed no worse for wear.

This morning, after we had all had a good night sleep, the monster unexpectedly emerged.

The older boys made their way out the door with a neighbor for the ride to school. What started out as a bit of whining over being told to wear her full snowsuit, turned into a full-out pitched fit. She doesn't scream and holler, she just wept. And wept. And wept.  Sigh. The neighbor's car needed to leave so I sent them on their way with the older kids.

"What is the problem?" I asked, exasperated.

"I don't like the sleeves. I think the kids will tease me. It doesn't fit right. I want to wear my old coat," she moaned.

At first I was firm. Then I was impatient. And then I yelled (I hate when I yell). I tried to send her back to bed.  But through it all, she just looked at me with the big swollen, red eyes, tears continuing to roll down her face, pleading to not wear the coat. Turns out that the main objection was that it was a hand me down from her brother (who received it from a girl cousin - it's purple and gender neutral).

I took a deep breath and a few minutes to myself to make my bed and think through what I needed to do. I am faced with these sorts of small monster almost every day - every parent is. Life is built on these tiny tests.  Sometimes we fail and sometimes we pass. Often we don't know until much later.

I know a snowsuit battle doesn't seem like much. It would have been easier to just let her have her way. But these seemingly simple conflicts lay the perfect groundwork for helping kids deal with harder, bigger issues.

A few weeks ago, my son went to a birthday party. The parents had said not to bring presents (God Bless them). But their child is a special friend of my sons (I know the mother well) and while we were already out shopping he spotted something that he knew the child really wanted. He explained to me that they had been talking about these special guys and that he knew this boy and his brother didn't have them. It amounted to about $6 and I said that sure, he could get it.

I like the idea of fostering generosity - especially when it is sincere and unnecessary. The party came a few days later and I told my son that none of the other kids has brought presents so he had to share it privately with his friend and his mother.  I could see the idea that maybe instead of giving the present away he might be able to keep it if the friend's mother said no. I watched him holding the bag tighter and tighter.

Well, the mother consented and he gave the boy and his brother these two guys  - and they were delighted.  As we left I could tell my son was feeling mixed emotions. For as fun as the party was, he became suddenly jealous. He didn't have to say anything for it to be clear that he was fighting a serious case of the "I wants". To be fair, we don't buy a lot of presents; Santa brings one toy for each child in our house.  So giving away something precious, knowing that mom is unlikely to buy them for him, was hard and uncomfortable.

Yet he was gracious and didn't complain or even mention it. He got quietly into the car, looking out the window longingly as we drove away. He said the party was great.

"I'm glad you know how to be a good friend, Buddy," I told him. "You made Caleb and his brother really happy today."

I told him I'd read to him when we got home. A lot goes unsaid when we parent. He smiled at me and sighed. I watched him in the rear view mirror and I wanted to drive to Target to go buy another set of the figurines.

But I didn't.

Because I love him

Because it is hard when people get things or have success that we don't have.  It’s hard to be uncomfortable.  I know it would have thrilled him.  And I love giving unexpected treats - but we have to choose our times and places very carefully.

It's hard to be patient.  It's hard to embrace that not everything is about us.  In fact when I got home, I had to call my sister and tell her the story and acknowledge I was NOT going to Target to buy the toys.  I felt like if I said it out loud, I'd be more likely to stick to my guns.

Some day a special friend will get a part in a play or a spot on a team that he wanted.  Someday he'll have to watch a good friend get into a college or get a better job than he will. And driving away I realized this was my chance to help pave a smooth road for him. And so while I didn't get him the Lego guys, I hope that I did give him something else. My hope was that in these small moments I'm helping him see that we can be bigger than our jealousy, bigger than our "I wants." We can rise to our higher self, we'll bring other people with us.

So back to this morning and facing my monster. I parent better when I'm well rested. It is easier to see the small moments when I'm not rushed or exhausted. I was in a better place when I face the birthday present situation than I was this morning, before my breakfast or cup of coffee.

I had to think to myself - what are we really fighting about here? My daughter was afraid that the kids might make fun of her.  I knew this to be extremely unlikely.  Largely because she is a rare kindergartner who can tie her own shoes, zip her own coat and pretty much be self-reliant.  Most of her classmates are still learning these skills, so if she were wearing a rainbow colored snowsuit I doubt anyone would notice.

She also wants something new. She doesn't want the hand me down. As she is our only daughter, she gets the least hand me downs of any of the kids. And the truth is the snowsuit is in great shape and is very high quality.  There is no need for a new one.  If I face those facts, I realize I have to hold my ground.

"I will come to school with you. Are the kids in your class mean? Do they often tease you?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"Well, if you have a problem, tell your teacher and she can call me. But, honey, I'm sure no one is going to be mean about your clothes." 

I know that bullying exists, and I don't want to down play that here.  But, I was 99% confident that this was not the issue we were facing.

"I don't want to wear it," she said.

"Well, that's the thing.  Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do. And today is unfortunately going to be one of those days for you."

So we went to school and in the blank for "why is the child late" I wrote "snowsuit meltdown." She went into her classroom with swollen eyes but no tears. And I ran a few errands.  I stopped in just after morning recess to make sure that I hadn't read the situation wrong.  And she was all hugs and smiles. The teacher told me she laughed with her aid about my explanation of tardiness.  She said that my daughter had done just fine.

So here is the thing. I wasn't sure that powering through was the right idea. I was tired and it would have been easier to let her wear the old spring jacket she wanted to wear.  Or to promise her a new coat. Honestly, my first consideration was to keep her home for the day to read stories and nap with me and her little brother.  But I thought that this might be one of those times where by helping her power through, I was again paving that road for her.

Monster 0

Mom 1