The Kids Are All Right
Yesterday, I took Linc in for some more tests on the autism study he's participating in at University of Illinois (he's in the control group). He's been totally digging the whole process; he considers himself a research scientist like his dad and his big sister. I was a little worried about the tests we were doing this day, though... it involved a physical exam by a stranger, and a blood draw, neither of which he's done in his memory. He'd seen Clay donate blood, and wasn't at all concerned about the prospect of doing it himself. Maybe a week ago, I tried to let him know what to expect for his own draw... and he stopped me, saying, "I don't want to talk about it. Don't tell me when we're going to do it." I wondered if this was avoidance, or some sign of fear, but it wasn't at all. I think he totally picked up on my own fears about needles (I was held down for shots and draws as a child, and to this day I have what I suspect is a panic attack when I need to face the business end of a needle... shaking, nausea, tears). But he was very matter-of-fact about it when the time came... he hopped right up into the seat, and was very interested in the whole process. He made a little face when the stick came, but the phlebotomist was good... she got it in one try. They took 12 vials (!!) and he was more bored than anything else. He said, "Maybe if you have a bandage, I could have one?"
When he left the little cubicle of the clinic, into the crowded waiting room, he announced loudly, "I'm glad I did the blood test for my brain study, Mama!" Several folks chuckled, and I heard another phlebotomist from another cubicle comment wryly, "I don't think I've ever heard THAT before!"
I was so incredibly proud of him, I was teary.
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Julia has sent me a few messages over the last few weeks that have also made me tear up. One's on FaceBook, on a post asking people about what gives them joy: "Being an adult. You always used to tell me to quit trying to grow up so fast, but if I'd known how awesome adulthood is, I'd have tried even harder. It makes me happy that I have the emotional and intellectual resources and experience to handle life on my own terms. Honestly, you probably deserve more of the credit for that than I'd like to admit." I won't post the others... they weren't as public as FB, but they made me feel just as teary. It's been terrific, watching her follow her dream while providing for herself, building relationships, exploring her world. She arrived on the planet just itching to take off and fly, and it was definitely a baffling job trying to ascertain when it was OK to let her risk a crash and burn, and when to sit on her until I could see the flight feathers were safely established. I'd had some measure of confidence with Cord, who'd been an entirely cooperative and undemanding kiddo for the most part, and Julia turned all that on its head. Nobody I knew had a kid like this, and generally the pervasive advice was to break her, discipline her, rein her in, teach her a lesson. I mostly ignored that advice and spent her childhood trying to work with her to figure out what was going to be best for her, while at the same time trying to maintain my own sanity and relationships. In no way did I guess right for the entire trip, but when she says stuff like the quote above, I think that maybe I hit the mark more times than I missed, and I'm really happy about it.
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Linc just started drawing human figures this last week... he's been drawing faces, and a few top-down map-style drawings of rooms and furniture, some Cubivore drawings, and lots of scribbles that he calls windstorms and tornados. So it was pretty cool to see him doing whole people (I think my other kids started doing it a little earlier... I wasn't worried at all that he was delayed, but I was curious as to when he'd start it). It's kind of cool... he made the first few days' drawings of stick figures, but these last two days, the bodies and limbs have been filled out as solid bits. Monday, he had two friends over, and he had a disagreement with one after he got hurt. He sulked while the other two ate lunch, then he delivered a note to me in the kitchen: "FORM LINC" written on the top (he's been making "from" as "form" sometimes), with three big beaming faces drawn underneath. I correctly interpreted this as a message from him that he felt better and wanted all three to play together again... they all went out and did his stomp rocket peacefully. Art therapy in action!
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I spoke with Cord last weekend. I can tell he's lonely and having a hard time being isolated at my dad's house. I wish I could figure out a way to get him a car so he could drive himself... he won't drive my dad's stick shift truck (and while I can drive a stick, I'm not even sure I'd try to drive it... it's very old and has a lot of little quirks). He's doing great in school, and is working as a tutor for the same SRJC tutoring program that his dad and I worked for when we met in 1982 (in fact, I think the same guy is running it, or at least still working for SRJC). I'm thinking of driving out there... I haven't seen either of them for more than a year now. He's making friends there, though, and I think he's settled in California.
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I love the pic Julia sent me of her wearing the tanktop I made for her for Christmas. I think about every single bit of that yarn going through my fingers (some pieces went through several times, in fact), that I thought about her so much while I was making it, that it's one of the biggest things I've ever made (and it wasn't hard, it just took a long time). It was a lot of fun to make it for her, choosing the yarn and the pattern and keeping it secret for so long. It's a lovely yarn, soft and springy and just gorgeous rich deep tones of color, and I love to think about all that fibre, that my fingers worked on, keeping her warm.
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Clay is doing great. We had some rough stuff this last year, but he's handled it with great grace and dignity. He could have totally gone the other way... surly and sulky and angry, and he even would have been justified after a certain point... but he's chosen the high road and I'm terribly proud of him for it. He's landed a job as a lifeguard at Wright Community College starting this semester, and he's taking a full load of classes. Even though he's not 100% sure of what he wants to do with his life, he's following some interesting leads: cooking and baking, travel, language, music. He's a really smart kid, but he's also very physical and good with people. He's gotten straight As the last few semesters, and he's totally conquered the Chicago public transportation system. For a big hulking dude, he's also compassionate and kind (I got a ton of compliments on his behavior when we were in Kansas City, and I know he's helped strangers more than once late at night on the El). He's patient and good with Linc and his friends, and he's been really helpful with our poor old dog (who asks for walks at inconvenient times in really awful weather, and sometimes has to go out several times a night). He has days where he's obviously champing at the bit to get on with his life, but mostly he acknowledges how good he has it here and is verbally grateful for it. The only fly in the ointment is that he's still really angry at his father, and I'm not sure how to help make it better. Maybe I can't... maybe it's something they are going to have to work out, or not. But while I think Clay is kind of at loose ends right now, I feel confident that he's got the tools and smarts to grab hold of whatever it is he decides to do, and do it well.
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Sometimes I wonder if there's a way to take what I've learned as a mom and help others. Mothering is an art, and the dance between each mom and kid is so varied and complex. I do think there's a difference between mothering and parenting, but that's going to be a topic for another post down the road. While everything isn't perfectly rosy, I feel pretty good about where each of my kids are on their respective journeys, and my part in helping them get there. Many of you reading this are part of the support system that allowed me to do this job, gave me encouragement and advice and feedback and great examples, and I am deeply grateful.
I don't know if I've said this before here on LJ, but I'll throw it out there now anyway. I didn't have many friends who had kids when I was getting started as a mom. I had some ideas of what my parents did that I wanted to emulate, but I also had some pretty strong ideas of what I didn't want to do, and I wasn't sure what my alternatives were. The thing I did then, and the thing I most strongly encourage new moms to do right now, was to fiercely interrogate the mothers of the most interesting people I knew. They gave me so many great ideas (no TV, unschooling, homebirthing, gentle discipline, attachment parenting, respectful communication from birth, extended breastfeeding... I could go on for hours; I paid special heed to things that showed up more than once). The point is that none of my tools were unique to me. I cheerfully swiped them from hundreds of other older, more experienced women. I still do it to this day.
I've pondered a book... I have bits of one already in progress. I'm worried that the rose-tinted glasses of time would render it more sentimental and thus useless to new moms in the trenches, though. Hmmm...