Rightness of Fit

Last year I read a book about parenting sensitive children, titled, appropriately, The Highly Sensitive Child.  It was an interesting read with great insights.  However, the author spoke at length about "Rightness of fit" between parent and child.  She said that it was hard for sensitive children to have non sensitive parents who don't understand what they're going through, saying there wasn't a rightness of fit there. Firstly, not much you can do about it after the fact - thanks for the motivating perspective!  Secondly, I completely disagree with the premise.  We each have important things to give to those around us.  We have our strengths, we have our experiences, and (especially as parents) we have love.  I appreciate educating parents on how to be better parents to their children, especially children with special circumstances, but as long as there is love there, the parent and child fit.  We make the rightness of fit.  We make  the right fit through the loving choices we make every day.  We aren't static.  We aren't the sum total of all of our labels.  We are unique and amazing human beings who need someone who loves us to help us become something even greater. 

I don't know if you have seen that Similac commercial that has been circulating about the mommy wars.  It is hilarious! I would link to it, but I'm too lazy to go look it up right now.  It highlights, in a humorous way, parents doing the best they can (and being a little crazy in the process, as we all tend to be).  Consider it homework. 

Speaking of homework, today was an exhausting, long, frustrating, and wonderful break through of a homeschool day.  It was the kind of day that gives you a glimmer of hope that maybe you are doing the right thing, that you are the "right fit" for your kids. 

Last semester was not as productive as I had hoped.  I just knew Joe would excel and shoot ahead if given the opportunity.  And he just kind of floundered.  I worried.  Had I made the right choice? Was I robbing him of his bright future?  Would he hate me forever?  Would he end up living in my basement forever or shuffling down the street in a bathrobe muttering, "Stay in school!  Just stay in school!" ?  I had flung him into the deep end and told him to swim.  He flailed. 

This semester, things started differently.  I had a lot of the same ideas, but we seemed to finally be settling into a flow.  Not a routine.  A flow.  The kids began to take a more active roll in their studies and they have started to come alive.  Today I was helping Joe with math.  We looked at where he was and where he would be by the end of the year, and he got excited!  We talked about his goals and what he could do if he continued to work hard.  He got his planner out and wrote everything he needed to do this week, and he worked hard all afternoon.  I had to drag him away from his math homework tonight because he was so excited about it.  (Ok.  That's not that unusual.  He's always loved to study.  But there was an increased intensity there.)  He said this afternoon, "I didn't think homeschool was going to work, but now I see that it was a good choice.  I'm glad we're doing this."  Yay!!!! 

In the last month, 3 of Mary's leaders at church told me that they have seen such a difference in Mary over the last year.  18 months ago, I asked them to not assign Mary talks or prayers or scriptures anymore because it was a disaster every time and she internalized it.  A month ago, she volunteered for the closing prayer.  They said she is calm, happy, and participates. 

There have been moments, scattered through the days and weeks, little rays of light, showing reasons why this is the right path for our family.  I may not be the person whom I would even personally choose as the best qualified to be parent to each of my kids.  I'm kind of mess.  But, I love them.  I am trying.  I am learning.  And they have a permanent and perfectly shaped spot in my arms and in my heart.  That's not a "right" fit; that's a perfect fit.

Love Her!

Pseudo Philosophy Thought of the Day

The me that you all see isn't an "after" shot. It's a "before" shot. Be patient with me!

My Crazy, Wonderful Crew

I know it's not Christmas, but here you go. 

(Again - stupid blogger hates pictures from my phone. It makes them all blurry. )

It Takes All Kinds

I'm finally getting around to my long-promised post about our Charleston trip.  I loved Charleston!  It just had a really great vibe.  I must say, though, that next time I will NOT be driving downtown.  What a mess!  Tiny, narrow streets, and lots of one way streets, and lots of foot traffic.  Plus, there is so much to see that I felt like I missed so much from driving around. 

 

The trip got off to a rocky start.  The kids were whining and bickering before we even crossed the South Carolina state line.  And it continued.  We dropped Matt off at his conference and then attempted to check in to our hotel so that we could change out of pajamas, but the room wasn't ready.  We headed instead to one of the plantations in the area.  In spite of the crankiness, we had a wonderful time.  The kids enjoyed seeing all of the buildings and fields, and several people in period costume were on hand to describe various jobs during the late 1700's.  So great!  And the trees!  I couldn't get over the trees! Gigantic, moss covered oaks everywhere. No pictures or words can really do them justice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 That night, after a short and cold trip to the park with dad, we went back to the hotel to (finally) check in, get some showers, and go to sleep.  After a not very restful night, we breakfasted, dressed and checked out.  And then, we were off to Fort Sumter! I can't begin to tell you how awesome our trip to Fort Sumter wasn't.

 

The ferry ride went quite a bit better than expected.  But, I was expecting to have to fish my three year old Tasmanian devil wanna be out of the Bay at some point. They had two floors of enclosed seating.  So, dry and successful.  Yay!  When we got to the Fort, the kids were off in every direction.  My fault for not having reiterated the rules of field trips before hand.  Rookie mistake.  We gathered everyone up for a brief moment of safety instruction from the forest ranger in which he mentioned several times to NOT roll down the grass hill.  He mentioned it twice.  I specifically address each child and asked if they had heard said instruction.  Each responded in the affirmative.  I asked again.  Yes, they understood.  And they were off again.  The four older children ditched me while I stashed the stroller and try to cajole Ben into walking so we could climb the steps to the top of the fort where the kids had gone.  He wanted to be carried the entire trip.  The - Entire - Trip!  If I didn't, he would turn into jello and collapse on the ground in a heap.  Unfortunately, I also had Kate, who would have none of my carrier so I had to carry her in my arms up the stairs.  By the time we got to the top, the kids were standing at the top of the infamous off limits grass hill.  I turned away to call Ben off of a railing when I heard Emily wailing.  I turned around to see her standing there.  Wailing.  I grabbed Ben's hand and half dragged him over to Emily.  She had apparently been looking at something and tripped, rolling halfway down the hill.  That's when we all discovered the WHY behind the rule.  Emily's cute pink tights were COVERED in burrs.  Covered.  I had no tweezers.  We were sitting at the top of a fort somewhat surrounded by three pole railings and I had six kids under twelve (one, being the aforementioned Tasmanian devil).  I somehow convinced Kate to sit on the cannon base next to me while I used two keys as make shift tweezers.  It took me ten minutes to get all of the burrs off.  Emily's wails had reduced to a constant wimper, 2 parts pain, 1 part devastation over her scarf that was in the middle of the burr-covered hill.  In the mean time, my eleven year old (my level-headed, remarkably responsible, cautious eleven year old) tried to climb the railing that kept tourists from plummeting over the 30 foot cliff, even though his younger brothers were next to him.  I yelled across the yard for him to get down.  Emily resumed wailing.  Ben was running around (in between me grabbing him and sitting him next to me).  Finally, Emily was burr free and we got off that ridiculous battlement top.  And into the museum where five of six children were whining and going in different directions, pulling their all-to-familiar herding cats routine.  Thank heavens Joe had recovered from his momentary lapse in sanity! I was never so happy to get on a ferry in my life.

 

We got in the car, after more whining and wandering.  I sat in the parked car and breathed.  The kids whined and yelled.  I breathed some more.  Then we drove.  For two hours.  I was not about to get out of the car any time soon.  We went through a drive through and the kids fell asleep.

 

The breather was just what we needed.  We parked and headed to the board walk.  The ocean is such an amazing thing.  It's power and size make you feel small.  Sometimes it's nice to feel small.  Small world but small problems. But, in your smallness, you feel connected to something so immense and important.  It's disconcerting but comforting. 

 

 

Matt met us at a playground and we headed for home.  On the way we stopped to see the Angel Oak.  I seriously can't describe it.  Being around something so ancient and still alive and more than awe inspiring.  It almost felt like a spiritual experience.