"good enough" parent confession #1

This picture looks so sweet, yes?

On the one hand, it totally is. 

One day I am going to miss how he defines "mama snuggles:"

forehead touching, feet tucked under my legs, and one hand free to caress my face until he falls asleep

On the other hand, I am over it.
I wish a tonsillectomy healed in a day - maybe two.

We have been in this mode for five days.

{last night he slept on top of me, belly-to-belly and cheek-to-cheek}

 Day and night, he wants to be touching or held. 

He is not the only one.  

His older brother is jealous for the attention and tries to squeeze himself into any open spot I appear to have.  My husband is aware that I am maxed out but he wants to be close too.
{yesterday morning I woke up sandwiched between two kids beneath a blanket of hubby arm}

Needless to say, my physical, emotional, and mental spaces are all spoken for.

case in point: the little is all-upons, even as I type this post.

So, here is my confession #one:

I love being a mother.

I love attending to the needs of my family but

My stamina for the requirements of this role has limits:

I also need space

{to think & feel & escape} 

to "just be" with and for myself.

he said he wanted to run away from home

Being 8 years old is tough.

You are old enough to do so many things and yet, too young for a lot that life throws your way.

Our eldest is eight and he is, generally, a really great kid.

He communicates well and follows directions. He is enthusiastic, affectionate, and mindful.

He is also self-absorbed and immature but he is eight and spot-on for his stated age.

He does not want for much, except he THINKS he does.  

And, in the face of all he has - he wants more.  The holidays were hard because within moments of receiving gifts - even items he had identified as his heart's desire - he'd begin talking about how it is not exactly what he wants or start talking about how he is going to save his allowance so he can buy something else.
He does this after buying something with his own money as well.

This kills me. every. time. 

 In fact, it makes me not want to give him anything beyond necessities. 

So, when he started in with this song and dance recently, I told him:

"Dude, you sound so ungrateful right now; it makes me not want to give you anything or help you out with stuff any more..."

His eyes widened and he stopped spinning in his chair. 

He slipped off the seat and went out of sight.

Uh oh {I thought}
because that is never a good sign with him.

I kept going along with whatever was occupying my time at the moment and then he returned to the chair and started talking with me about a completely new topic.  

His speech was tentative but intentional.  

His topic carefully selected to test the waters - seemingly probing for affirmation of our relationship.  

All the while, spinning again in the chair.

Afters some time, he stopped spinning again and said, very quietly:

"When you said that you weren't going to help me anymore - I felt like I wanted to run away."

My breath caught in my throat and my fingers stopped moving along the keyboard.

I turned to look at him; he turned his chair so his back was to me.

"Don't look at me" he said.

"We need to talk about this, Bubs."

 "Yeah, but I don't want you to look at me."

"Okay. But for the record, I want to come over there and look you straight in the eyes while we talk."

He didn't move.
 

"I am sorry I made you feel that way.  That's a horrible feeling.  
{I still vividly remember those moments from my own childhood}  

I guess I am just having a very hard time with the pattern of you having a lot of stuff already, and then immediately wanting more or something different whenever you receive something new.  It really makes me feel conflicted - like you have no idea how lucky you are.

"But you say I can always tell you whatever I am thinking and you will listen and you will help me.  So when you told me you weren't going to help me anymore, I wanted to run away..."

The mother in my mind pushed the table over and ran over to her son, spun him around to face her and suffocated him in her embrace while gushing affirmations and assurances into his ear.

However, with his back still turned, I took a deep breath and swiped at the falling tears.

"Doodlebug, I will always take care of you. And I am always here to listen. Always.  The thing is, I have reactions to the things you say - because I have deep deep feelings for you - and sometimes my reactions are going to be exactly what you need or want. And sometimes they are going to make you want to run away. But whether you feel it or not, I am always here for you."

"I might want to run away again."

"I know.  But that doesn't change the fact that I love you and I will always take care of your needs."

{silence}

I resumed typing. 

He resumed spinning in his chair.

Time passed and we called him to dinner.

Before he sat down, he stopped by my chair, embraced my neck, and buried his head into my shoulder.

Then sat down at his plate, talking about the trophies he won in his video game earlier in the day.

Being 8 years old is tough.

the alpha wife

i am in a season of plotting and planning. 

this year will bring closure to some things {and} i have some decisions to make. 

the landscape of options is not what i thought it once was; 

things are a little more open, a little more exciting, a little more scary.

i was talking with a friend over the weekend about the breadth of this landscape and she kept asking after what my husband thought about all of it.  

he wants me to be happy

he is content for things to remain "as is" if that works for me but he will roll with change, as needed.

she pushed further, asking about his goals and his plans for the future and, reluctantly, i admitted, 

{we don't spend a lot of time talking about those}

which is not to say he has none

but

when i ask him for longer term goals, he routinely says:

Daph, you have ambition and drive for the both of us...and then some.

i returned home from my visit and after putting the kids to bed, we took up conversation over dinner and beer.  our conversation massaged many topics and eventually circled back to plotting and planning.

in a carry-over from the weekend, i felt a little self-conscious as we talked - worried that, in my ambition, i compromise his masculinity.  in being who i am, i overpower his ideas and desires for happiness.  

i expressed my worries and he replied:

Daphne, you are alpha. i am good with that - for you to be something else would be disingenuous.

i wanted to argue;

there are times i would like him to be more alpha in areas of our relationship. 

but to argue would kind of be for show because, i am alpha and i like it that way.

i regard my husband with great respect; my plotting generally takes his needs into consideration

 - annual goals for work, soccer, video games, proximity, & compulsions - 

we are egalitarian in how we manage our household and children but in all of it {to put a fine point on it}

i am alpha and he is beta. 

we started that way 15 years ago & it is how we work best. 

reality, however, is no match for my self-conscious ambition.

knowing my worries were not totally assuaged, he leaned into me before i fell asleep to say:

alpha wife, i am happy with you.

language matters

in big ways and in small ways, language matters.

most days i don't think about it much 

and i certainly don't think about how I adjust my language from one context to another

but the adjustments happen 

{unwittingly} 

and 

other people notice.

i was reminded of this when i started seeing a bed-bound client through my private practice.

entering my client's home and sitting at bedside was reminiscent of my work at the hospital 

{from whence i'd just come}

we concluded our first session and as i was walking out the door, i heard:

thank you...for referring to me as your client, rather than your patient.
i felt regarded as a real person while we met - not as a disabled, bedridden patient.
that means a lot to me.

thank you.

in that doorway, i thought of the duality of words.
on the one hand, words are just words - somewhat insignificant in the grand scheme of life; 
we use them "only" to transmit information
but
the what and the how of communication comprise the fabric of our relationships.
 a fact that is both obvious {duh, right?} and worthy of reminder:

in big and small ways, 
language matters