I've Got This

In the last month or so, my son has started high school, started playing baseball for school, and has been given house keys.  And he is handling it all like a champ.

Those that know me, know my son, like his mom, can be an anxious kid.  This mom, however, has always had a goal to not let him suffer from it the way I have at times.  My many years of “You’ve got this” have now turned into “I’ve got this” and I couldn’t be prouder.

While anxiety is a struggle, understanding it personally does really help when dealing with it in someone else.  When my son is uncomfortable with something new, I instinctually know why, and can give him the tools and the coping mechanisms, and, most importantly, the security, which I wish someone had given me.

He likes to know the details:  What time are you going to be here to pick me up?  Where will you be? What time will you get to the game?  What if it rains?  Where do I store my equipment bag during the day?

Having the plan is key, and having a cell phone for when the plan goes astray is a wonderful thing.

In this last month of changes, a month that has made me an anxious mess, he’s been prepared.  I was a lot more nervous about the first day of school than he was (he played summer baseball for the school so he would know some other kids before going).  Anxiety about going out for fall ball was quickly alleviated by some answers I got from some of my fellow alumni about the program.  Realizing he could do those things, he’s really started to not need me anymore on anything else.  He’s got this.  He has taken things to the office for me, found out information about downloading text books we bought online, figured out software he needed for school, and a million other things, all on his own.  When I told him another player’s mom would be picking him up to drive him to Away games, he was fine with that, no complaining and no questions asked, though he used to not even want anyone but me, not his Grandma, not his Dad, no one, picking him up from school at all.  He does his homework without prompting, and WANTS me to look up his grades so he can gauge how he is doing. 

When we gave him house keys last week so he could stay at his friend’s house after we left for some errands, I let his friend’s mom know what we were doing.  He got mad at me, “Mom, I’VE GOT THIS!”

When I left to meet a friend yesterday evening before his dad got here to pick him up for the weekend, I told him his bag and keys were on the kitchen table, and didn’t worry about it.

He’s got this.

It makes me so happy to have a confident teenager.

That’s why they have wine.

The Gift of Confidence

Confidence.  It really is an important thing in life.

I’ve always been strong willed and independent and marched to my own beat, but I didn’t always have the confidence to show it.   I remember both high school and college fondly, I really did enjoy my life, but there are things that when I think about them, I want to slap myself for.  Things I should have done, not done, stood up for, had influence on.  Things that I was just too shy and not confident enough to do.

Right now, at the age of 48 and ¾, I consider myself a confident person.  I still have some things that make me uncomfortable (talking on the phone, attending events alone, public speaking….), but that is more because I’m just an introvert.  Now you can’t get me to NOT express my opinion, to not take the action I feel is right, to not feel like the most important person to make happy is myself.  It took a long time and a lot of work to actually make it here though.  Having a child was actually a big help, when the only way you can make it through the grocery store is to sing along with the song playing on the speakers, LOUDLY, to appease your toddler, you have no choice but to let go of a lot of that pesky self-consciousness.  Having people actually finding my sarcastic wit to be funny when posting online was actually another big help, technology has been my friend.

I am proud of who I have become.  I am proud because I really, truly LIKE myself, and I really, truly, don’t care if anyone else does.  That, to me, is really what confidence is.

I know that in some political opinions, making sure your child has self-esteem is considered some kind of crazy notion, but, really, I think that is the biggest benefit you can give your child to get them through life.  Real self-esteem, that which comes not from just telling them they are great all the time or spoiling them or especially not teaching them that they are better than others, but that which comes from realizing we all have strengths, that we all have flaws that we have the capability to overcome, that we are worthy of love, especially love that comes from within.  That is what builds confidence.  It took me years of therapy and surviving bad choices that got me there, I’d rather try to give my own kid an easier road.

What made me even think about all this?  Blow drying my hair this morning.  Yep.  I’ve always hated my hair.  Its baby fine and easily gets split ends and ties itself in knots once it reaches a certain length (which is not even to my shoulders).  I listened to people who told me I should have longer hair, even though I felt it looked terrible and was really a pain to do anything with.  I usually just pulled it back in a ponytail because I couldn’t stand it.  I didn’t have the guts to try to find a style that might actually work with my hair.  A couple of months ago, I decided I wasn’t going to worry about what anyone else thought.  I got my hair cut short, and not just short, but cut in a rather alternative style.  AND I LOVE IT.  I’ve gotten negative feedback on it.  I don’t care.  This is the first style I’ve ever had in my life that I actually think looks good on me and works with my hair.  I feel good every day when I leave the house.  I feel confident.

It’s a great feeling that no one, no one, should have to wait until they are almost 49 years old to experience.  I am thankful for all that happened in my life because that is what got me to exactly where I am right now, but who knows what else I may have accomplished. Make sure you do all you can to give your children the gift of confidence.

That’s why they have wine.

The Days of Princesses and Chicken Nuggets

As this was a holiday weekend, everyone in our home had a 3 day weekend.  The teen, he got even more, as he got a “hurricane day” on Thursday (his school, in the next county, was actually open, but I kept him home, the schools in ours were closed), and Friday was a scheduled day off for a Teacher Work Day.  On Saturday, my husband asked the teen if there was anything he’d like to do, anywhere he’d like to go this weekend.  Nope, nothing.

You’ve got to know what to ask.  I asked him yesterday if he’d like to go to Disney Springs, as I knew he was intrigued about a new store there, Trophy Room, affiliated with Michael Jordan.  He said yes, as long as he could “relax” on Sunday.  Relax? I’m not sure I’ve seen him leave his room since Wednesday after school, but at least he agreed to put on shoes and leave the confines or our property for a while.

We are Disney passholders, I can’t even count how many times we’ve been there over the years.  Today, however, I was a bit amused by the differences between when my son was younger and now.

At 5 years old, he would be awake at sunrise, ready to go.  At the parks, we HAD to wait in line to see Mickey, and even more importantly, Minnie and Daisy Duck, and perhaps a princess or two.  Every gift shop that had stuffed animals was a must do, and I’m pretty sure we never left without a new one.  Ice cream and popcorn and candy called his name at every possible location.  When at Disney Springs (which was then called Downtown Disney), we spent most of our time in the toy store, the pin store and carts, and the water fountains that the kids could run in.  I’ve even had to buy him new expensive Disney clothes in one of the shops (hmm, perhaps that was his plan), because his wet clothes from the fountains he spent HOURS in would irritate him to the point of tears.  When he got hungry, we’d get chicken nuggets for him at McDonalds.  He spent the day saying “I love you” and hugging me because he was so happy.

Today, he had one goal, to go the Trophy Room.  I had to wake him up at 9:30 this morning, and he slept in the car all the way there.  Though he has a good bit of money still left from Christmas and his birthday and for getting all “A’s”, he bought nothing there. He wanted nothing to eat, and when I got lunch, which was a bigger portion than I could eat, he wouldn’t even eat half (though he did eat my entire side of homemade pickles).  I couldn’t tempt him with cupcakes or candy.  As far as McDonald’s, it’s no longer there, and that is alright as he hasn’t eaten at McDonalds in years, because it is “not real food.”  As we walked through the new part of Disney Springs, with which we are not familiar, I asked him if he wanted to look at the directory to find his store.  He said no, that I should just pick a direction, only for him to tell me 5 minutes later that I picked the wrong one.  He spent our time telling me I was blind because I didn’t notice that there were a lot of people in FSU shirts, and that I didn’t notice a selfie stick.  He didn’t want to go in the toy store at all, and about the time we reached that far, he asked if I was ready to go.

At least he still enjoyed smelling the soap with me in Basin, and getting his free chocolate sample in Ghiradelli.

Kids grow up so fast, take advantage of every moment. That’s why they have wine.

*And I do know he still actually had a good time, because when we got in the car to go back home, he said “I love you, Mom.”  That is Aiden-code for “Thanks, I had fun.”  That, and he was a little taken aback when I told him when he and I go for an overnight at Disney next month, after I drop him off at school in the morning, I’m going back to Disney Springs to do some shopping while he’s in school.  A mom needs a little quiet shopping time sometimes, where she doesn’t have to worry about what team’s jerseys people are wearing!*

The Rise of the Bullies

You have to be nice and you have to be respectful.

Those are the rules my now teenage son has had since he was a toddler.  That’s it. When you follow those, you don’t need a lot of other rules.  You don’t lie, you don’t be mean, you share, you listen to authority, you do as your parents say, you do your homework on time, you follow through on promises….it all falls under that umbrella.  Does he break them sometimes?  Sure, he’s human, but on the whole, he’s a pretty nice, respectful kid.

I tell him that people don’t have to like us, and we don’t have to like them, but we need to be nice and be respectful to them, even if they are not to us.  It doesn’t mean never expressing our opinion, never disagreeing, or letting anyone use us as a doormat.  You just do those things without being a bully.

Bullying has started becoming out of control, specifically on the internet.  And I’m not just talking about kids, I’m talking about adults, many of which would never speak the same things in person.

It is completely possible to share parenting ideas, discuss politics or religion, or post something funny while still being both nice and respectful. Some days, reading through my Facebook feed, you’d never guess that however.  There is a huge difference between saying “This is what I believe” and “Anyone who doesn’t believe this is an idiot.”  You can express your political opinion without commenting on the attractiveness of the politician.  And when you call anyone judgmental for disagreeing, tell them they are not allowed to feel offense, or that they can’t be your friend if they say anything that slightly opposes you, that is the icing on the bully cake.

A lot of bullying seems to be done through memes.  Maybe we feel that if it’s not actually our quote, it isn’t so bad?  I often read these things and wonder, if you were chatting with me at our kid’s baseball game, would you say to me that I’m just a simpleminded person who believes in sky fairies and thinks I can just pray to win the lottery?  At a birthday party, would you tell my 15 year old his disability is made up and he’s just a brat with horrible parents?  At work, would you tell me you are obviously smarter than me because I didn’t vote for the candidate you did?  No?  I didn’t think so, so why are you doing it on the internet?

There really is something to the idea that people are often too easily offended, but the key word there is "easily."  Sometimes we are truly being offensive.  Those being offended by your post have the right to be, just as much as you have the right to say what you want, or excuse it as "just being honest."  Do you really need to be purposefully hurtful to express yourself?

I enjoy discussion on various topics.  I have online connections with people of various backgrounds and beliefs.  I am offended by little, and I not only recognize, but appreciate good sarcasm.  I will often read your posts and links that reflect a different opinion than I have with great interest and sometimes learn some new stuff.  However, I am really getting tired of the bullies.  I start reading something that sounds very intelligent, and then it ends with “and you are stupid if you think otherwise.”  Even if I agreed with you up till then, I’m just completely turned off by the post after that. 

I’ve started quietly hiding certain people’s posts, unliking pages, and in some cases even “unfriending” online the bullies – not someone who has a bad day and says something they later realize they shouldn’t have, but those that continually put down others in their posts.  It makes you feel again like there might still be hope for humanity when you aren’t bombarded by the negativity every day.

Just be nice and be respectful.

That’s why they have wine.

What Happened To Compassion?

As I sit here online applying a Passholder discount code to our reservations this fall at Disney’s Yacht and Beach Club resort, I can’t help feeling a little guilty.

Guilty because Disney is my happy place, my escape, the place I can go and actually not think about anything going on in the rest of the world or the rest of my life.

Guilty because my son recently listed Disney on a school project as his favorite place to go on vacation.

Guilty because we are Florida residents and passholders who have been to Disney more times than we can possibly count and have always had a good experience.

Guilty because we’ve sat on the resort “beaches,” at night, on various bodies of water, goofing around and having a great time, since my son was a toddler.

Guilty because my now teen and I have joked about alligators being on the shore trying to scare each other.

There is a family who went to the Walt Disney World Resort this week hoping for fun, happiness, and a lot of great memories.  That family had something very tragic and random and heartbreaking happen.  This will never be their happy place, their favorite vacation, happy memories.  They have to go home without a member of their family.  Their little boy will never be a teen like mine is. This wasn’t supposed to happen.  They are filled with grief, anger, sadness. 

And they have all the perfect people, parents and non-parents alike, judging them and scrutinizing their actions, and having to place blame somewhere.  They were just spending time having fun as a family, drawing closer to each other, and relaxing.  This was a freak act of nature. They deserve our prayers, our understanding, and our tears.  Can’t we even do that?

That’s why they have wine.

We Are ALL In This Together

A terrorist attack happened on US soil, a terrorist attack, A TERRORIST ATTACK, on the early morning hours of June 12.

It is scary.  It is sad.  It’s difficult to process.

When this happened on September 11, 2001, we united in shock as a nation.  We didn’t know what to think.  We didn’t know what to do.  We didn’t know how to react.  We said we would never forget, but, somehow, we seem to have forgotten.  We’re not a country united, we are a county torn apart.  In the last 36 hours or so, my social media feed is filled with posts scolding people for not reacting “correctly.”

So what is the correct reaction?  If I read through those posts, I am to presume it means to hate all religions.  To not understand that being Muslim and of middle eastern descent are not the same thing.  To ban all “machine guns” and “automatic weapons” which already are prohibited to be bought by your average American and were not used in this attack (nor any other mass shooting that gets referenced).  To not find this to be an attack on Americans or our country, but that it was an attack solely on gays (because somehow they don’t fit in the American group?) To not, God forbid, go to your kid’s soccer game or be proud of an accomplishment they had or stress out over your job or make dinner….or any other normal activity in your life.  To feel guilty for not changing your profile picture to show support, because, hey, that just makes everything better. To not dare post a fact, because then you are not thinking of the victims.  Even to find this to be a great reason to blame all Christians, especially if they are Republican, for our issues.

I’m sorry, I can’t make my world all rainbows and unicorns again by changing my profile picture, pretending that people would not still be able to find a way to kill if guns didn’t exist, and dressing in black (or should that be rainbow) and do absolutely nothing but mourn for, well, how long is the correct reactionary period anyway?

This is an event that obviously touches a lot of people.  We all react to fear and grief and shock differently.  I write, I talk.  I, as with any other hard issue, don’t react emotionally.  I try to gather details, try to make sense, try to think of what might be the most practical solution.  And I do that while I’m watching my son play baseball and folding the laundry and doing errands and getting the stuff done I need to get done at my job.  Other people may react differently.  And that is OK.  It doesn’t make us enemies.  We are all victims of this attack, and our real enemy is likely laughing at us for making their job easier as we tear our own communities apart.

I pray we can realize we are ONE nation, we are all human beings, we are all in this together, gay, straight, liberal, conservative, black, white, religious (even Muslims!) or atheist.

And I’ll do that while I’m continuing to live my life and being proud to be an American.

That’s why they have wine.

The Small Things Can Mean a Lot

Tomorrow my son graduates from 8^th grade.

I’ve heard people my age talking about how we didn’t graduate from anything until high school, that we didn’t have dances, that we didn’t get gifts for finishing what we then called Jr. High, and that it is crazy that we make a big deal out of it now.  I admit, I have had some of the same thoughts.

Is 8^th grade supposed to be that much of an accomplishment?  Do we need to buy fancy clothes our kids will never wear again to watch them go up on stage somewhere the school shelled out big bucks for to hold the event?  Does the 8^th grade dance take away some of the specialness of high school homecoming and prom?  Are we making our kids expect gifts for every little thing they do?

I’m still very excited that my son is graduating. 

His school doesn’t have dances.  Graduation is in the lunch room, they won’t be wearing caps and gowns, and parents donated money to have a cake and sodas afterward.  My son goes to a school for children with various learning and neurological disabilities.  For us, yes, this is a huge accomplishment to be celebrated, especially because he is not attending there for high school.  We were told he is ready for, and needs to, attend “regular” high school, that they cannot provide him with the more advanced resources that he is ready for.

He went to a normal public school for all of elementary, and his “first” year of 6^th grade.  I can’t even begin to count the number of conferences I’ve had with teachers, principals, and ESE staff over the years.  Not the projects that caused severe meltdowns, the homework cried over and then never turned in, the tests failed, the being taken advantage of by other students, the notes and calls from teachers, the lies, the tantrums.  He was actually even suspended once in the 3^rd grade.

I seriously had days, tearful days, when I couldn’t imagine that he would ever make it this far.

When he came about 2 percentage points from failing the fifth grade, I started pushing.  Pushing teachers, pushing his doctor, aggressively pursuing anything I could find that might help him.  He is bright, funny, sensitive, caring, he is a GREAT kid, but all of that was getting lost somewhere, and that’s not who people saw, sometimes even me.

He started on medication.  It helped a lot at home, but at school he was still having issues, both socially and academically.  He wasn’t developmentally ready for middle school.  He failed sixth grade.

That is when I moved him to his current school.  There, he has had peers at the same developmental level as him.  There he has had individual attention to teach him in the way his brain works.  He has made a lot of friends his own age, and has had some extra time to catch up to what it is to be a young teen.  He has gotten all A’s for THREE years, with the exception of one B+.  His behavior issues have disappeared.  He recently got the student of the month award for the month that celebrated integrity.  He does his homework without prompting and in the last year, even with very little help.  He doesn’t lie to me, argue with me, and in fact he goes out of his way to help me and show he cares.  He is a pleasure to be around the majority of the time (he IS still a teenager!).  I don’t have to hide in the bathroom and cry anymore.

And I am so proud.

While we still always have to deal with some issues, he has worked so hard to overcome his obstacles, and I think he has even exceeded his own expectations.  So, I took the day off to not only attend his graduation, but to take him to do something special afterwards.  And we got him a gift.  

Graduating from 8^th grade IS an accomplishment.

That's why they have wine.  You need something to toast with.