I have started contemplating the many twists and turns of being a parent and doing it “right”. In Part 1 I focused on the big issues of parenting, including wrecking a child’s spirit and middle school dances. But I have been living the issue of listening to what a child, your child, is saying to you.
LegoMaster has been complaining of having a stomach ache since Friday. It is now Tuesday. At first I thought he had to poop as he is not a once-a-day kinda guy. Tried that-he produced, but he still complained. Granted he was not doubled over with a wince on his face, but he still mentioned it far more than his personality usually warrants.
So, I tried step two-are you hungry? He did eat as he usually does. He even ate cake and ice cream at a birthday party. But then again, I have been known to down a cake or three even if I am not feeling 100%. So it was probably not hunger.
On to step three:
When he arrived home from school on Monday and immediately began complaining, it occurred to me that there may be something going on at school that is worrying him. So the grand inquisition began, much to his dismay, and ended with a “MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! Stop asking me questions!”
There was a time last year that he did have a problem at school and hesitated telling us about it. To me, the issue was cut and dry, but then again, I am 42 and self-actualized. He was 6 and he suffered in his little boy way until he told us. Since past behavior predicts future behavior, I thought we may be on the right track regarding school/social issues. He did tell me Monday morning that the boys at his table were kidding with him (teasing, he said) that he was using the wrong color to draw with. Yeeps, I would have just looked at them funny and said that THEY were seeing the color wrong because in my eyes it was PERFECT. Then I would have turned my head and proceeded on with the project, ignoring any other mutterings of their silly mouths. But he is now 7 and thinks that since his “friends” say he is wrong, then he is wrong. So he is thinking that he does not want to be told he is wrong again and, viola, a stomachache. **
As a mom, I must help him with this social issue. We discussed, as only a 7 year old can do, what to do if the boys teased him again today. It went something like this:
Me: What exactly do they say?
Him: That I am using the wrong color.
Me: Do YOU think you are using the wrong color? Really truly the wrong color?
Him: No.
Me: So what can you do? Tell me anything that comes to your mind-good or bad.
Him: I can move desks.
Me: OK, what else?
Him: I can say “What you say doesn’t count.”
Me: Hmm, that’s interesting. Then what?
Him: I can ignore them. But I really want to move desks.
I notice that his brain can come up with many answers to solve the problem at hand. I also wonder why none of these things are the things he is probably doing. And I know this because I have witnessed what can happen with LegoMaster when his loving brother, Buzz, begins to pick on him. The end result is usually one of the boys in their own room. But I still have prayers that then will one day, do the right thing and ignore. Until then, we must problem solve.
LegoMaster goes to school and all seems right with the world until he arrives home. He is somewhat chipper, but he does tell me that he moved desks. Not the solution I would have chosen and quite frankly, I wish the teacher wouldn’t have let him escape but talked to the whole table about being kind, but it is done nonetheless. But he still has a belly-ache, and does not want to eat an afterschool snack. He also balks at dinner and chooses to lie on the couch. So, my little LegoMaster is sick. That MUST be it. He just needs rest-he was up a little late because of the Super Bowl last night. DadOfAllTrades is putting the boys to bed tonight as I am going to karate, so I kiss their precious faces and remind DadOfAllTrades that they should be in bed earlier than usual.
After I leave karate, I get a frantic call from DadOfAllTrades regarding vomit and walkie-talkies. Uh-Oh. I race home to find that LegMaster threw up as he was brushing his teeth, then again 10 minutes after he laid down. Oh-so he was vomit-in-the-sink sick. Why didn’t I think of that?
Was I listening? I mean, really listening to LegoMaster? Or was I trying to put some self-induced extra meaning on what was really going on? How as a mom am I to know? He did tell me his stomach hurt. I immediately went for the worst possible scenario. How am I NOT supposed to “plan for the worst and hope for the best”, a motto I adopted in college and have yet to give up because it is so true and serves me well?
I don’t think I will ever know. But I do know that I am happy that he kept telling me, saw me (us, including DadOfAllTrades) trying to help the situation by problem solving, and saw that we did not get frustrated by his constant repetition. Maybe that was what I was supposed to do. Hooray for me!
**As an aside, why do teachers call the class “friends” instead of classmates? I think it implies the wrong thing. As we all know, we do not like every single person we have to work with. Also, friends are a more intimate form of acquaintances. We, as adults, do not call everyone we know a “friend”. Why are they asking youngin’s to do this? Why set the kids up for failure in the category of understanding friendship at such an early age? Just a thought.
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