Last night my 3 year old, Emma, was laying on the floor in the hall peeking under the door into Julia's room. Both of my older girls were in there playing with their High School Musical dolls and we had told Emma she couldn't play this time. In giving the older girls some big girl time we have to ban Emma occaisionally and it breaks my heart.
The need to belong starts early and lasts all of our lives. I was not part of any clique at school when I was a kid for a very long time. I was always the new girl, and heavy with bad teeth to boot. It's not that I blamed the other kids for thinking I was a dork, but oh how I wanted to be THEM. Once I hit high school things changed and I found some good friends who were popular enough that riding their coattails sort of saved me. But that insecurity from before that time stays with me even now. I am a self-proclaimed hermit by nature: my favorite place on earth is within my own four walls with my family, these people who have never judged me, who don't care if my clothes are stylish or if I'm overweight and not wearing make-up. But I still want to fit in. Patrik, my husband, is a little neighborhood social butterfly. I love my neighbors and enjoy myself when I make the effort to join them outside just to hang out. But I rarely do it. I have no explanation for this except that I am still afraid that I am not cool enough. And I'm almost 40.
This may make me over-sensitive to the plight of my kids as they make their way through life. When Chase was 3 he got a baby brother, his dad and I split up, and we moved from Florida to be with my parents in New Jersey. It was a tough time for all of us. One morning I heard him out front talking to the kids who lived next door. They were older and were making it very clear that they didn't want anything to do with this over-eager little kid. They were talking amongst themselves about what they were going to be for Halloween. Chase, all bright excitement, said, "I'm going to be a dinosaur."
And they completely ignored him. He said it once or twice more with no response and I got up, went out there, and asked the kids to just be nice to him, that he was little. Their mom, in return, came out and told me to mind my business, that I couldn't MAKE them be his friend. I remember the heat filling my head. So no wonder these kids were so ignorant...and hurtful. Common courtesy wasn't part of their upbringing.
It would not be the last time I felt the need to stand up for my boys, but it was the first and it has always stuck with me. I don't tolerate bullies or bullying, a definite kickback from being mercilessly teased as a child at school. But I know I can't necessarily save them from it either. Kids can be heartless, downright mean. It is life, I know, but it doens't change my need to sheild them. These little people with their hearts wide open, so easily bruised-it's all I can do not to turn them into hermits, too. "Come, stay with me. I will keep you safe. I will never intentionally hurt you. You are perfect just the way you are."
But I won't. In order to become resilient adults, a lesson must be learned, trials must be met with strength, and your mom can't always deflect the blow. So every now and then, each of these little girls must sacrifice something for one another, whenther it be a big-girl playing space decimated by the baby sister who wants to have things her way, or by that little sister being shut out for a bit so those big girls can have a little privacy.
It is such a fine line I am walking. I want to keep them clear of the hurts of life for as long as I can, and I want them to learn to deal with the disappointment of not fitting in so Middle School doesn't kill them. At least here in my hermit's house, if someone gets left out, I can pull them into my lap and whisper sweet nothings in their ear and make it all better.
It's OUT THERE that I worry about.
The need to belong starts early and lasts all of our lives. I was not part of any clique at school when I was a kid for a very long time. I was always the new girl, and heavy with bad teeth to boot. It's not that I blamed the other kids for thinking I was a dork, but oh how I wanted to be THEM. Once I hit high school things changed and I found some good friends who were popular enough that riding their coattails sort of saved me. But that insecurity from before that time stays with me even now. I am a self-proclaimed hermit by nature: my favorite place on earth is within my own four walls with my family, these people who have never judged me, who don't care if my clothes are stylish or if I'm overweight and not wearing make-up. But I still want to fit in. Patrik, my husband, is a little neighborhood social butterfly. I love my neighbors and enjoy myself when I make the effort to join them outside just to hang out. But I rarely do it. I have no explanation for this except that I am still afraid that I am not cool enough. And I'm almost 40.
This may make me over-sensitive to the plight of my kids as they make their way through life. When Chase was 3 he got a baby brother, his dad and I split up, and we moved from Florida to be with my parents in New Jersey. It was a tough time for all of us. One morning I heard him out front talking to the kids who lived next door. They were older and were making it very clear that they didn't want anything to do with this over-eager little kid. They were talking amongst themselves about what they were going to be for Halloween. Chase, all bright excitement, said, "I'm going to be a dinosaur."
And they completely ignored him. He said it once or twice more with no response and I got up, went out there, and asked the kids to just be nice to him, that he was little. Their mom, in return, came out and told me to mind my business, that I couldn't MAKE them be his friend. I remember the heat filling my head. So no wonder these kids were so ignorant...and hurtful. Common courtesy wasn't part of their upbringing.
It would not be the last time I felt the need to stand up for my boys, but it was the first and it has always stuck with me. I don't tolerate bullies or bullying, a definite kickback from being mercilessly teased as a child at school. But I know I can't necessarily save them from it either. Kids can be heartless, downright mean. It is life, I know, but it doens't change my need to sheild them. These little people with their hearts wide open, so easily bruised-it's all I can do not to turn them into hermits, too. "Come, stay with me. I will keep you safe. I will never intentionally hurt you. You are perfect just the way you are."
But I won't. In order to become resilient adults, a lesson must be learned, trials must be met with strength, and your mom can't always deflect the blow. So every now and then, each of these little girls must sacrifice something for one another, whenther it be a big-girl playing space decimated by the baby sister who wants to have things her way, or by that little sister being shut out for a bit so those big girls can have a little privacy.
It is such a fine line I am walking. I want to keep them clear of the hurts of life for as long as I can, and I want them to learn to deal with the disappointment of not fitting in so Middle School doesn't kill them. At least here in my hermit's house, if someone gets left out, I can pull them into my lap and whisper sweet nothings in their ear and make it all better.
It's OUT THERE that I worry about.
6 comments:
That feeling of wanting to protect them from hurt never, ever goes away. My kids are grown but I still cringe when things don't go their way. Just the other day my adult daughter was already in pain and went to see a doctor who was so rude he made her cry!! I felt the heat in me grow and I was really upset. I wanted his name. Of course, what could I do but I was really upset for her. You don't hurt my kids!!! She is probably over it but I still want to bend his ear!!
I hope neither of you ever lose that protective instinct. I guess you do have to let them suffer every now and then, in order to learn "the hard way". Really there is no other way to learn a lot of things. (especially when you're a kid.) Just think of yourself as a bear. What would a mother bear do when her cubs are threatened? (Well, maybe you ought not to go that far!!) Keep writing, Leslie. You should never stop doing things you do well. Uncle Tom
You did not have bad teeth, just one crooked tooth and you were beautiful.
Spoken just like a mother! I believe the nickname was "Tusk"!Of course now that they are relatively straight and cavity free, I can be flip about it!
That's sad about Chase and the jerk kids. I would have flipped out on that mother!!!!
I know, Joe. He's 20 and probably doesn't evev rememeber it but it still bothers me!
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