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Getting rid of things is empowering. Every time I get throw something away or give it away a part of my brain rejoices that I will never have to pick up that item or put it away again. I like shelves, closets, and rooms that have empty spaces in them. I feel overwhelmed and crowded when all the spaces are full. This is why I trashed the boys’ room today. I scraped all of their closet shelves bare and tossed everything into piles in the center of the room. This was the point at which Howard stepped into the doorway. His eyes went wide as he surveyed the mess. The process of sorting is frequently messy. But bit by bit the piles got smaller and more organized. bit by bit order emerged from the chaos. I was very pleased to haul out several garbage bags full of things that I will never have to clean up again. The boys were very pleased to realize that I’d found all the pieces to various games. It was with a sense of accomplishment that I vacuumed the floor. Then I walked out into the rest of the house and realized that every single room needs similar treatment. I’m going to have to buy more garbage bags.

“You really wore that?!” Kiki reached out her hands to take the crumpled dress I had just pulled from the box. It unfolded to reveal a prairie style dress with a rose pattern print, puffed sleeves, and a full skirt.
“Yes, It was my graduation dress.” I look at it and see what she sees. The dress is woefully out of fashion. I look at it myself and wonder why I ever wore it. But I remember selecting it. I remember loving it. And I remember getting compliments on it. I can still see the beauty even while I also see the flaws. It is a bit like being cross-eyed.
“Okaaay.” Kiki says amused as she puts the dress down using only the tips of her fingers. Obviously this is not the outfit she is going to choose to wear for “blast to the past” day at school, which is why I dug out the box in the first place.
Kiki’s hands dive back into the box, pulling out the two formal dresses I saved. They fared better. Kiki oohed and held them up to herself to twirl the skirts. It is possible that she will choose to wear one of them sometime when she has a formal dance to attend. But they are also set aside. They are not obviously from another era and thus not suitable as blast to the past choices.
In the bottom of the box was my wedding dress. Kiki pulled it out almost reverently. She held it up, admiring the long whiteness of it. Then carefully folded it back into the box.
Her blast to the past ensemble ended up being a baggy white turtleneck of Howard’s with a wide belt I’d fished out of the back of my drawer. An old sweater was sacrificed to make a pair of leg warmers. She topped it all with a big floofy red bow on her pony tail. It didn’t really look like an 80’s outfit, but she felt like she was wearing an 80’s outfit. That was good enough.

******

“I know why moms are more understanding than Dads.” Gleek announced as she leaned on the kitchen counter. Her eyes were still a little red from crying. Patch sat next to her, also a little red-eyed. They had just weathered the incident of the domino set which had ended with both squabbling children being set to their rooms by Howard. Calm had returned and they were ready to discuss the experience.
“Why is that?” I asked as I carefully scraped a blob of cookie dough onto the baking stone.
“It’s because moms have the babies.”
“Maybe.” I answered. “Dads can be understanding too. I just think your dad didn’t know the deal we made about counting.”
Gleek’s eyebrows lowered. “He shouldn’t have counted. I was going to do it.” Gleek does not like when grown ups count down after giving an instruction. Recently she and I struck a bargain that I would only use counting when my request is truly important or urgent. In return, she promised to respond immediately if I began to count. The deal was struck without Howard near by.
I choose my next words carefully because I am glad that the yelling, stomping, and door slamming are over. I’d really like to keep the peace that still seems fragile. “Perhaps next time you and Patch could talk things through instead of yelling and knocking over each other’s dominoes. Then Dad wouldn’t have to come out of his office and ask you to stop.”
Both Gleek and Patch hunch up a little. This is the only acknowledgment they will make that they know I am right. After a moment’s silence, Gleek says
“Dad’s can be understanding, but mostly they are awesome.”
Patch nodded sagely in agreement. “Yeah. Dads are awesome.”
I have to agree.

******

Patch climbed into my lap and tucked his head against my neck. I swivled my chair away from the computer so that I could give my full attention to this small person. His head was a little too warm against my neck. Likely a light fever as part of the sniffle-and-cough package that he acquired last night. I suppose it should not surprise me that my first grader was the first child to stay home from school sick. At least the barking, croupy cough had subsided. Now he was just bored and in need of mild comforting with all the playmates off at school. So we sat and I listened to him talk to me about his plans for the day. He was excited to have a whole six hours of playing time. I held him, glad that life has been more child focused lately. I have time to sit and hold my boy until he is ready to go do something else. It is so much better than constantly shooing him off to go find something else to do because I need to work. The snuggle did not last all that long. The minute we heard Howard’s shower turn off, Patch jumped from my lap to go make a request from Dad. I need to remember to treasure these small moments. They are over too soon.

Dawn sneaks up on you. I am awake before dawn most days during the winter months. All the windows are dark when I peer out to see if there is any sign of light yet. Sometimes I can not be quite sure. I stare into the darkness trying to decide if it is lighter than it was before. Frequently the answer is “No.” But I do not have time to stand at the window watching for the first signs of daylight. There are things that I must do. Children must be awakened, breakfast must be served. The next time I look out the window I can see that the world outside is lighter, dawn has arrived and I can see clearly.

This has been my experience over the past few days. Everything felt dark. I could not see my way clear to manage everything that was in front of me. Life felt like an unending stream of dirty dishes, important decisions to get right, dirty laundry, children to soothe, bathrooms to scrub, and closets to organize. All those spaces of time which I’d anticipated had filled up with mundane tasks. But I worked onward despite the bleakness. Then yesterday I looked around me and realized that dawn had arrived while I was busy. Things are better. The kids have begun to settle in. They don’t come crashing through the door all needing my immediate attention. The organization and scrubbing are starting to catch up with the accumulated mess. And best of all, I got out of my house to converse with wonderful people. Twice. Dawn has arrived.

The shiny newness of the new school year has worn off, but things have not yet had time to become habit. This means effort without the added energy of excitement to carry us through. At least that is how Kiki and I feel. Link, Gleek, and Patch are all still pretty cheerful about heading off to school. In related news, all of the things I’ve been spending time on lately (kids & house mostly) are really important, but lacking in short-term rewards. I think things will feel better tomorrow when I complete some of the organization projects. Right now everything is in a state where it is messier than it was before I started working on it. In fact that is true of the school year and helping the kids too. It is all pulled apart and taking up three times the amount of space than it should. I just need to remember that I’ll get it all put back together and everything will fit again.

When I am stressed it helps me to write all the thoughts down. I pin all the things down with words and give them shape. Once I know what the shapes are, I can begin to see how all of it will fit.

Kiki:
Discussions about friends/school/emotions
Company at 6:15 am when she is up before anyone else
Nudging to remind her that homework should be on her schedule
Occasional check-ups on the status of her grades with accompanying consequences/assistance if they are below B level

Link:
Research and consultation to select a different medication for him
Consultation with his teachers at school to make sure everyone is working together for him
A twelfth birthday party
Extra hugs and snuggles
Quiet space where he can talk about the thoughts that are in his head
Praise when he steps up and takes responsibility

Gleek:
Extra effort and patience to steer her actions without scolding
Extra help to find constructive things to do when she is bored
Requiring her to slow down and have some quiet time when she needs it but doesn’t want it (probably daily after school)
Time set aside where the two of us can talk about the thoughts and feelings in her head so she can feel less emotionally tangled
A new lamp for her bed so she can turn it off by herself when reading time is over
Help finding ways to let her be in control of as many things as possible so she’ll be more willing to follow along in other areas

Patch:
10-15 minutes each bedtime where I just listen while he talks about whatever is in his head
Help managing his friendships so no feelings get hurt
Daily reading practice even if he doesn’t want it
Adjust meals so that he is more likely to enjoy eating dinner
Hugs and snuggles
A drink pouch in his backpack every day so that he has something to drink at lunch time when the other kids are having chocolate milk

All of the above:
More emphasis on personal hygiene, particularly teeth
A cleaner house so that we all have pleasant spaces in which to manage everything else

It looks like my major job this Fall is to use the six hours while they’re at school to clear the decks of everything else so that I am completely available when they come home. I think a lot of this will settle out once we hit our stride with the school year, but I need to be prepared for a long haul if necessary.

My children have turned into gaping pits of need. I feel like I have spent most of this week pouring time and energy into these pits with no evidence that they are filling up. Where these pits come from is not entirely a mystery. We’re just coming off of six months where I did not neglect them, but I had no time to spare for minor childhood traumas such as “all the crackers are broken.” My unresponsiveness on small-but-important-to-them issues has created an emotional deficit which needs to be addressed. Then there is the beginning of a new school year which fills them with stimulation, and excitement, and the stress of new expectations to meet. Kids always need extra support and reassurance while they are settling into a new school year. The third factor is the largest. Several of my kids have moved into developmental phases where they are growing fast and pushing forward. This new growth manifests as either pushing limits or increased anxiety. It forces me to shift my parenting techniques to manage the changes.

Unfortunately, knowing how the pits were dug does not provide me with the infinite amounts of time, energy, patience, and sympathy needed to fill them. All I can do is keep shoveling even though I’m ready to fall down from fatigue and hope for a landslide to come help me out. And to think that I spent some time this summer feeling guilty for not spending much creative/emotional energy on the kids.

I sat on the couch with my son’s head in my lap. A soft tear leaked from his eye to disappear into the fabric of my skirt. The fount of worries and concerns that have been gradually accumulating in the past months finally over flowed. I stroked his hair gently as we faced the fact that in one week he will irretrievably turn twelve years old. The twelfth birthday is a landmark, a rite of passage. He will no longer be part of the children’s programs at church, instead he will attend Young Men’s events. He will take up some congregational responsibilities as well. Link has every right to feel anxious about what is coming.

We talked about the specific things that worry him. I did not say “You’ll be fine.” because that phrase is singularly useless in reducing anxiety. It actually adds the anxious realization that not only does he have to face the worrisome thing, but that mom expects him to be fine with it. Instead we talked about worry in general. We talked about how it is possible to see clearly how things are going to work out, but to still be worried about it. We talked about how sometimes worry can keep us up at night. We talked through specifics about the responsibilities that he has coming so that he at least knows what to expect. We decided to make an appointment to talk to the man who will be his Young Men’s leader so that Link can talk these things through with him.

As I spoke with Link, I realized that something has shifted in our relationship. I have stopped sheltering him as much. I have stepped back from taking care of things for him and instead I am moving into a supportive role where he is making his own decisions. This was most evident in the portion of the conversation which discussed his medication. We talked through all the effects of the medication both good and bad. I told him how I’ve been considering taking him to a specialist who may be able to help us switch medications to a different one which will alleviate the bad while retaining the good. I do not know if Link will need medication his whole life, but if he does, then he needs to learn how to see the whole diagnostic picture so that he can make his own choices. I never want him to feel like medication is something imposed upon him.

Our conversation did not fix anything. Link is still worried. He is going to stay worried until we get past the birthday and he gets settled into his new things. But I think that talking through all the thoughts and emotions did help some. If nothing else, he knows that mom will listen to his worries.

I was feeling bad about the state of my house, so this morning I dressed in grubby clothes and started scrubbing bathrooms. I’d barely finished the first one when I was called to come help with an emergency move-out. The woman involved is in the process of getting divorced, she works, and she has five kids. She was completely overwhelmed. Judging from the state of the house she has been beyond overwhelmed for a significant period of time. Ten to twenty congregation members converged on her house. We bagged, boxed, carted, and threw away. It was complete chaos. Nothing was sorted neatly. It is going to take the family a very long time to find everything. Most of the stuff is headed for a storage unit. The family has a place to stay for the next two weeks while they find more permanent housing. I am sure that things were packed that the family is going to need. As I was sorting dirty laundry from potato chips, I pondered how fortunate I am and how I should be spending more of my energy reaching out to my neighbors. It is good that we all came to answer the crisis, but it would have been better if we’d all been helping a little all month long so that there need not be a crisis at all.

I have realized that the new found spaces in my schedule are not actually spaces. They are maneuvering room. This week they filled up completely with family/friend/social things. This is fine since those things have all been sorely neglected in recent months. The kids in particular need a lot more space for awhile. Every day they’ve been bursting with things to tell me. I need to make time to listen. They need extra attention while they settle in to the new school year. I still need to settle in too. I wonder if I’ll start feeling like I’ve achieved a life rhythm next week.

The ninth grade guidance counselor was amazing with Kiki. She listened to everything that Kiki had to say and several times complimented Kiki on expressing herself well. Then called in a kind and cheerful administrator so that we could move Kiki out of the classes that she was concerned about and into classes that Kiki will enjoy much more. We didn’t even have to rearrange any of Kiki’s other classes. Kiki walked out of there with a spring to her step and new confidence in her eyes. Now she and I both know that her counselor is an excellent ally.

For Link we’ve scheduled a round of testing just to see where he is currently. We’ll then take those tests and have an IEP meeting to discuss what to do for him for this year. I strongly feel that he needs to be out of resource. It is what he wants and I want to see how well he keeps up. I think he will be fine. This is a good year to test before Link heads off into the wilds of Junior High. I also met with Link’s doctor today. We’re keeping the medication status quo, but I think Link feels better about it because the doctor took time to really listen and talk directly to Link rather than just talking with me.

Gleek’s teacher spoke with me on the phone and it sounds like they are beginning to develop the structure and relationship that they need to get through the year together. I still need to keep tabs on this to make sure that both of them continue to feel good about the relationship. I may need to volunteer in the classroom at some point during the year so that I am more in touch with what is going on there.

I may be running out of “benefit of doubt” to extend to the new elementary principal. His extensive letter on exactly how parents are allowed to pick up and drop off kids has been followed up with a long letter describing the shiny new discipline policy which involves the use of a time out room (under a different name.) I agree in principle with most of the changes he is putting into place, but the implementation of the policies will determine whether this is a beneficial change or a dictatorial regime. My kids miss their old principal already. I sympathize, but I’m waiting to see how things shake out. I am also curious about how the teachers feel about these new policies. The teachers will be the ones doing the implementing.

We still have lots more adjusting to do. More than I expected this year. But I’m going to sleep better tonight.