You do you, my boy

Looking back at my birthday reflection from last year, my words now feel so ironic. I remarked on how Ollie was an ever-steady personality, that change hadn’t come much over the last year. And now I think about his year 5-6 and see how it was THE year of change for him. Beautiful, hard, deeply important change. He had some major battles, and his success was hard-fought and deservedly won, and I couldn’t be prouder of him for who he has become.

As was evident in his last birthday essay, Ollie struggled a bit with leaving me at school for some of the year while in Pre-K. He worried I wouldn’t come back or that he would be left alone forever. By early spring, I thought that issue had nipped itself in the bud; but, almost right after his 5th birthday, his anxiety came rushing back unexpectedly and with a fierce vengeance.

It seemed so startling at first because it was almost like over night he went from being reluctantly happy to see me go, to him being completely distraught all over again. Everyone in his life wracked their brains trying to figure out what was eating at him, but no one could pinpoint one single thing. Was it the first death in our family that made him ask me what would happen if I died? Was it his body finally realizing it couldn’t keep up with the pace of school and causing him to become overly sensitive? Was it something he’d seen on tv, something someone said, something we couldn’t imagine? Was it none of the above?

It was emotionally exhausting trying to figure out why he was suddenly clinging to me and sobbing when I tried to go anywhere without him, whether it be to school or just to the grocery store while he stayed home with grandma. It was so unlike him and it worried me to no end.

Finally, I took him to the doctor who suggested he see a psychologist. And after waiting almost a month to get him in, that he did. We spent our summer seeing his psychologist about once every 10 days. And eventually it began to make a difference. He started becoming less and less fearful, better and better with leaving me. And as tiresome as it was to maintain unflinching patience with him when I just needed to go to the store for 30 minutes, I think it ultimately helped a bit.

Until it didn’t anymore.

Until one day out of the blue he began again to act as though I would leave him forever. With no provocation, other than our push for him to be more independent. We saw he could and so we encouraged him to continue to do so. But he pushed back. And I feared he’d never get better.

Until he did.

And not because he saw the psychologist more often or because we tried more therapies. Because in truth, I was so tired of going to the psychologist about once every week just to see him show the same behaviors day in and day out that I finally made the decision to stop taking him. And maybe it’s not the type of thing that’s recommended because we didn’t phase him out, we just stopped. But it’s what we ultimately decided to do.

But you know what, after we just stopped, and told him we stopped because we saw he had gotten so much better and thought he didn’t need to go anymore, he really did get even better. It was almost as if he needed to believe that he had it in him to do whatever he needed to do. That it wasn’t that someone had to be there telling him how to manage himself, he could do it all on his own.

And I really think this was a turning point for him. This  was back in September, almost halfway through his year 5, and only a few weeks into our new homeschooling lifestyle that this happened. But after that point, instead of him assuming he needed to be taught everything or shown  or assisted in doing everything, he suddenly began believing he could do anything. And he began creating his own learning experiences and his own projects. And it felt, to me at least, that he was suddenly on his way. Just like it seemed that overnight he curled into himself and began feeling afraid and insecure, overnight he sprang from that mindset and went back to being his true self again.

And because I overthink everything, I’ve been trying to figure out what it was exactly that allowed this to happen. And the more I think and the more I read and the more I embrace this new way of living we’ve chosen, the more I realize that what it was that changed him was simply time. Time to simply grow up.

Now what I’m about to say may not be an opinion that sits well with everyone. And I mean this in no way to be judgmental. But it’s something I’ve come to believe very deeply over the last year since I began researching homeschooling. And now that I’ve seen my own children benefit from this way of life, I absolutely believe it to be truth. At the very least, our truth.

Kids are little for such a precious short time. And we in America seem to value achievement and competition so much that we impose these things on our youngest people and in a way that can , and often does, create irrevocable harm to them. We push them into schools, for many of them, not long after they’ve become potty-trained. We’ve traded daycare for preschool. School. For babies. We take away their time to play, experiment, discover, be free and push them to “learn”, to read, to write, to achieve more and more, outdo their peers. We take away nap time and story time and time to be messy and fall and hurt themselves for the “safety” of a room with tiny chairs and tables that they’re asked to spend most of their day at, sitting, doing as their told. And then we wonder why children act out or “fall behind” or any of the myriad other complaints we have about our children in schools these days. We impose unnatural circumstances and behaviors on our children and then fail to see why they don’t thrive.

And trust me, I’m no better than anyone else who has put their child into schools. I too pushed for them to read better and more when I saw they naturally could sooner than most. I felt pride when their teachers told me they were well-behaved or had good grades. Because that is what I was conditioned to believe.

But now, getting off my soapbox. I can see so damn clearly now that what Ollie needed more than anything else this past year was just time to mature. Time to be 5, to be barely more than a baby. Time to grow at his pace and at his comfort level. Time for him to take his own risks when he chose. To learn more about himself and his world when he was ready. When HE was ready.

And now he is ready. Now he’s back to being his silly, joyful, curious little self. It was heartbreaking seeing my usually happy, confident little boy reduced to fear, sadness, uncertainty, and involuntary tics, and thinking there was nothing we could do. And it feels so amazing now to know that the only thing he really needed was nothing. Nothing but us to be there, to love him, to believe in him, and to let him do what he needed to do when he needed to do it.

And now he’s ever the more not my baby boy. He’s grown so tall, and seemingly over night grown into a little man’s body with no more chubs hanging around his tummy or thighs. He’s strong, and sharp, and beautiful. He’s still got his smile that warms your soul, and a penetrating, knowing look, like his father, that bores into your core.

And he still has a sense of adventure, and to be honest, recklessness. He can’t quite decide if he wants to drive submarines when he grows up, or be an astronaut. He wants to build rockets, and discover new species of fish deep in the ocean. Of course, he might also like to be a veterinarian or a locksmith like his dad. And he wants to have kids someday but only if he doesn’t have to get married. And he still doesn’t care if Barbies are “for girls” or not. He loves Linda, his Barbie, and he’ll be damned if you try to make him feel otherwise.

And I’ll be damned if anyone, including myself, ever tries to make him feel, or act, or do anything he doesn’t feel ready for ever again. He trusts me with every ounce of his being to be the person who knows him the best and has nothing but his best interest at heart. And I will never let him down again.

And so, my Bubba-Boy, my heart, my love., a very happy 6th birthday to you. Even though I can’t quite wrap my head around you being 6 already, I will not wallow in sadness over 6 years gone because I know you have so many more to go. And I plan on seeing you though all of them as your biggest fan and greatest support. You continue to build your towers and then crash them down. You peg off your Beanie Boos with your nerf guns and then dress Linda up in her finest. You continue to feel the pride you deserve in reading aloud to us those silly adventures of Elephant and Piggie. You continue to run amok with your friends (real, honest to goodness friends), and challenge yourself to be your most authentic you. You are a beautiful force to be reckoned with, with a spirit and soul to rival no other.

Get your fill of Cheez-its and whatever other junk food your heart desires today because it’s your day. I love you, little buddy. Here’s to another year of you.


My Sweet Man Is Turning 4

Normally I post these yearly reflections on Facebook, but with the creation of my blog, I’m switching over to posting here from now on. Enjoy. 🙂

It’s become pretty evident that I’ve become a mom of a little man. It’s funny and shocking how quickly children change from little bits to full blown people. And even though this is my second time in this game, I’m still overwhelmed with how much Ollie is NOT my super pudgy baby boy anymore. There’s something especially bittersweet about that considering he’s my last baby. I was nostalgic and sentimental about Lily’s leaving babyhood behind because she is my first-born and she is who ushered me into motherhood; but, knowing I will never experience any of these little firsts again kinda leaves a sting behind.

I think because he’s a boy, and history has shown that, in general, boys are wont to refuse affection pretty quickly, I’m particularly sensitive to his growing. I’m probably overly affectionate at times. I hug and kiss and cuddle my kids all the time. If we’re parting ways–for school, work, time at Grandma and Papa’s house–they gets kisses. No excuses, no getting out of it. Thankfully they don’t seem to mind. I just worry about the day when he will decline and my heart will break. He already is refusing hugs and kisses from Lily. Luckily he hasn’t changed heart with me yet.

Looking back at last year’s reflection, I laughed when I re-read how super lovable he was even then. And when I read that and see how he hasn’t changed, I think I’m crazy to think he’ll ever not give me love. He tells me he loves me–no joke–upwards of twenty times a day. I wish I could record his kissing sprees because he leaves me in stitches laughing at him. He will quite literally kiss me all over my face until I’m practically crying from laughing. And then he’ll smile his “I’m such a charmer” smile and putter away to go back to his playing. He is going to make someone a very fine mate some day. He’s such a wooer and romancer. He pets my face, tells me I’m beautiful, brings me random trinkets of affection, and lets me know he loves me more than anything. Such a sweet, sensitive soul he is.

And speaking of sensitive, he is all emotions. He hates being told no or chastised. He will immediately tear up from anger, embarrassment, frustration, or disappointment. For many people, it would probably be incredibly frustrating that he cries so easily and openly, but for me, I totally get it because I’m exactly the same. He just feel everything–good and bad–with such intensity. When he’s angry, he can see nothing but what threw him into that rage. When he’s disappointed, his world is collapsing. On the flip side, when he’s happy, nothing could possibly wreck his good time. His laughter is contagious. Even if you’re in a shitty mood, one tiny hijinx from him will have you forcing yourself not to laugh or giving in to his silly self. Usually the latter. He’s always been one of the most jovial, fun-loving people I’ve ever known. I believe he will be that person in so many people’s lives that they will rely on to brighten them up because he just does it so naturally. I’m so proud to be raising such a kind man.

Speaking of man…before I had my own boy to raise, I really thought that biological gender traits were utter bullshit. And honestly neither of my children are stereotypical girls or boys; but, there are things that he does that make me wonder what his chromosomal difference has produced in him. He’s a wild-man– a running, jumping, climbing, wrestling monster. It’s almost as if there’s something inherent in him that needs to fight. He wants to show how strong he is, how capable he is, how much help he doesn’t need. He wants to take care of me. He wants to wrestle the cats. He wants to build things solely to destroy them. It’s amusing and interesting. Biology is some funky shit.

But then there are the butterflies. He loves them so much. He’s not at all ashamed to tell anyone who wants to listen. He loves raising them, watching them. He’s got a deep-seeded nurturing bone in there. I’m so glad that he’s found this side of himself before meeting other boys in school potentially ruins that. So many people raise their kids to fit into molds, and I’m sure there will be some boy–or girl–out there who will tell him that butterflies are for girls. That painting nails are for girls. That pink Easter eggs are for girls. That jewelry is for girls. That he needs to act more like a boy. I’m hoping if that happens he’ll let them know they’re wrong. And then maybe hug them. Because that’s who he is.

I love that I can look into his eyes and see that the world has not crushed him yet. That he so freely allows himself to enjoy whatever comes his way. That he will bust a funky ass move in the middle of a restaurant with good music playing. That he will innocently, if not mischievously, investigate what happens when he throws the cats in the air. That he will find so much pride in counting to 60 or writing his name or changing his own clothes. That he will find whatever you’re interested in just as important to him as what he really loves. This kid will be your best friend simply if you ask. You don’t meet many people like him in a lifetime.

I don’t know what I did in a previous life to award me the children I have. They’re so uniquely different and complex and just fucking fantastic. And I get to spend every. single. day. with them.

My Bubba, my sweet little man: I wish you nothing but the most wonderful birthdays for your long, exciting, meaningful life. You bring out the best in everyone and show everyone around you what the most perfect and genuine love is. I promise to always do my very best to show you that perfect love in return. Happy 4th birthday, Oliver Poe. I’m so glad you graced us with your presence this day those four years ago. Feels like yesterday and also as if you’ve always been a part of us. I love you to the outer reaches of space and back.