For as eager as I was to have school start again, it sure has been a bumpy road. In my naivete I thought/hoped/assumed they would all settle nicely into their routines, embrace healthy friendships and unequivocally respect authority.
What a humbling experience the first few weeks have been. I'm pretty sure I've learned as much as they have with certain life lessons.
Growing up, I don't think I ever saw my parents cry. Swear, yell, shriek, sure... but never cry. And up until last week - excluding the time we told them about the divorce - I don't think my kids have ever seen me cry. I always feel like I have to hold it together, stay strong, put on a face that shows them I'm in charge and I've got this.
The beginning of last week was tough. I came home from work in a sour mood. I'd already dealt with the principal for one of my children's bad decisions, and I was feeling overwhelmed. My back has been hurting me for months, and my allergies were kicking my ass. I rummaged through the cupboards and couldn't find any Benadryl.
My friend Jill happened to call, right as I was sprawled out on my bed, trying to hold back the tears. As I was explaining to her what had been happening the last week, my son Wyatt flung open my bedroom door...completely oblivious to the fact that his mom was having a "bell jar" moment.
"Mom," he demanded. "Are you or are you NOT going to be making us dinner soon?"
"Jesus," I told Jill on the phone. "I have raised a tribe of ingrates." I showed Wyatt my angry eyes and told him I'd be out soon.
After dinner I was back in my room, wishing I had Benadryl and an IV drip of morphine for my back. My pity party started back up again. I was sitting in front of my closet when Chloe waltzed in. She took one look at my tear streaked face and said, "Oh, allergies?" I nodded and she left. Later I went to Kwik Trip to get a fountain soda (because they make me happy). I brought Sophie along with me. She saw me digging in my purse for quarters and said, "Mom, I can pay for it if you don't have enough money." It was so sweet of her to offer that I burst out laughing. "Honey, I can afford my Big Gulp. But thanks for offering." Just then Chloe called me on my cell phone. "Mom," she said excitedly. "We found your allergy medicine!"
As soon as I pulled into the driveway, Chloe and Wyatt came running out. She was clutching a packet of over the counter allergy pills, and he was running with a glass of water. It sloshed outside the cup and ran down his arms, but he didn't seem to notice.
All four kids decided I needed to rest on the couch. Frankie covered me with a blanket and Chloe administered the pills to me. She leaned down and whispered, "Do you know how I know it wasn't allergies and you were really crying?"
"How Lola?" I asked her.
"Because it was all wet underneath your eyes, that area right above your cheeks."
I nodded. "Yep, you're right. But thanks for finding my pills anyway."
Then miraculously the kids went to bed without fighting.
The very next night I had to address an incident that involved the River Falls police. Apparently my three youngest children decided it was perfectly acceptable to run around on the roof of our elementary school while playing there on a Saturday afternoon. Just as their dad pulled up to take them home, a cop showed up because he had been called from a concerned neighbor who saw my little hoodlums on the roof. Their dad sat all four of them down and flipped out on them, and I was ready to do the same.
"I don't understand how any of you thought this was acceptable," I began. "And do you know what the worst part of it was, the absolute most terrible part...?"
"That the cops were called and we might have a record?" Wyatt ventured.
"No, it's not that the cops were called. Although that isn't one of my most proud moments either. What's the absolute worst part is when your dad told me about the fence that you had to crawl over to actually get onto the roof. Those 12 inch metal rods that stand up and are supposed to deter you? If one of you would have stumbled and slipped, those rods would have IMPALED you and you would have died!"
My voice broke and for the second time in 24 hours I started crying in front of them again. They stared at me, completely silent. Nobody said a word.
A mental health professional recently told a group of us parents: "Elementary aged children are in a precarious group. They're becoming more independent and are recognizing their abilities to do things away from their parents. The problem is, they don't really have a firm grasp on their new found independence and how to handle it responsibly. They're like little monkeys with machine guns."
After I had (hopefully) scared the shit out of my kids with the metal-rod-impaling speech, I went to the store to buy some milk. While I was gone, they had hurriedly crafted a card for me, which they all signed...including their last names. That part made me laugh.
While I was recalling my last few days to my friend Nicole, she wisely said, "You know, Vanessa. It's not such a bad thing for your kids to see you cry. Now they know you're human and you have fears, too."
It warmed my heart when she said that.
I love my friends.
And I love my little monkeys, too.
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