The grass had grown long over the past two weeks. The need for mowing was urgent, so I declared that Kiki and Link must do it today. Kiki mowed the back without complaint. She is practiced at mowing because it was her job all last summer. Link is in charge of the much smaller front lawn. Mowing is newer to him. He was ready and willing to get the work done, except for one major problem. There were multiple wasps buzzing around in the grass. Link is bee and wasp phobic. He isn’t allergic to them, but the very sight of them sends him into a panic. His preferred reaction is to flee for the house whenever he sees one. His fear is strong enough that there have been times when he wanted to play outside, but didn’t because there might be a wasp out there. Faced with wasps in the lawn that he was to mow, Link froze. He did not flee into the house, but neither did he start mowing. Instead he stood on the sidewalk and dithered in fear.
I am afraid that I did not react well to Link’s paralysis. His increasing size speaks to the instinctual part of my brain which says “we need to be preparing this one to jump from the nest and fly” The problem is that this proto-fledgling would dearly like to stay in the very center of the nest, cuddled in the downy feathers, and let me continue to drop food in his mouth when he squawks. The more logical parts of my brain are also urging me to prepare him for the things that are to come. I worry about him displaying his fears in front of peers who will not be kind. I worry about his ability to work through his emotions in healthy ways. I really want to help him learn the tools he needs so that his quirks will not turn into neuroses. I was also frustrated because the point of paying kids to mow the lawn is so that I don’t have to take the time to do it myself. And yet I ended up having to stand over Link to make sure the work got done. How exactly did that save me any time and stress? With all of those thoughts churning in my brain, I was unable to stay focused on the fact that this is a learning experience for Link. I did not remain encouraging and kind. I was angry and frustrated. Most of my words and actions expressed that frustration to Link. Having mom mad at him did not help poor Link manage his fears. It was not a particularly happy event, but the mowing did get done.
Link and I are in one of those phases where our natures are in conflict. It is his turn to be the child who is driving me to distraction. They’ve all had turns before. They’ll all have turns again. It gets especially interesting when multiple children take simultaneous turns at driving mom crazy. One of the most frustrating things about the conflicts with Link is that I can see that half the problem is in me, not him. I am very goal oriented. I always have been. I identify the things I want and then plow through all the obstacles even if they terrify me. Sometimes the fact that I’ll have to do scary things is part of the attraction of the goal. I like stretching myself and seeing what I am capable of accomplishing. I want to run with long strides into the future. Link is different. He is careful. He moves toward the future with small steps. He wants to assure himself of security and safety. Sometimes he laments the fact that he has to move forward at all, because he can see the wonderful things that are behind him and he does not want to move farther away from them. Logically I comprehend that Link’s approach to the world is as valid as mine. Logically I understand that Link must find his own way and that I should trust him. Emotionally, I keep trying to push him into answering his challenges as I would answer them, because my solutions feel so obviously correct. And they are. For me.
I don’t want to be the pushy mom, but I can’t help it. I can can see so clearly how if he’d only work on this, then it would solve that problem. We particularly come to trouble when I’m pushing him now, hoping to prevent problems that he doesn’t comprehend could even be problems for him. Cleanliness is a good example. I push now to teach him good hygiene habits because I know that someday he’ll want to impress a girl. But I can’t use that argument to get him to shower because he doesn’t currently believe that impressing girls could possibly be important. And yet, part of a mother’s job is to push. It is my job to take that middle-of-the-nest fledgling and teach him how to fly, how to find his own worms. The tricky bit is knowing when I’m nudging him enough for him to find his own way and when I’m pushing him to use my answers instead of finding his own. Even trickier is the fact that Link is a very trusting child. He can see that my ways look impossible to him, but instead of realizing that he needs to find his own solutions, he just feels like a failure for not being able to do what I want him to do in the ways that I’m pushing him to do them.
One comforting thing is remembering that Kiki and I had a couple of tumultuous years when she was in fifth and sixth grade. I think it is very natural for kids to go through a phase where they want increased independence, but only when it is convenient. They simultaneously want to retain all the perks of being little, and catered to. The expression of this emotional tangle is different for Link than it was for Kiki, but the landscape is familiar. I’ve covered this ground before. But just because I recognize where I’m at, does not make the hike any less weary. (Also, it exhausts me to realize that I’m going to have to hike this ground again with two more kids, and it will probably drive me crazy both times.) The really good news is that there is a lovely place at the end of this road. Kiki is now solidly in her teens and she is a joy to live with. We still have our frustrated moments, but I love the conversations and interactions that I have with her now. I love how responsible and thoughtful she frequently is. I love seeing her step forward and manage her own challenges. I have to believe that Link will get there too. I’ve seen glimpses of it. When he wants something he works very quietly and persistently to make it happen. He is a good kid. I need to remember to trust in that. I need to remember that his solutions are good ones even if they are not the solutions I would have picked. I need to remember that I said almost that exact same sentence when Kiki was this age.
Later, after the mowing was done and we’d both had a break, Link came to me and said “I forgive you for yelling.” His big blue eyes looked at me. He wanted to have an exchange of apologies. He needed to know that everything was all right between us. And it is. I gave him the hugs and apologies that he desired. I also told him a little bit about how we’re different and that being different is okay. I also told him that just because I get mad, does not mean that he is in the wrong. I’m not sure he’s ready yet to believe it, but at least he heard the words.