Tag Archives: my friends rock

Tornadoes and What-Ifs

Posted on by Amy Pybus
3

I think we’re all already in tornado shell-shock from what’s been happening around the country lately. I go between looking at pictures and praying and crying for the people involved, and having to shut the paper because I can’t look anymore.

From gazettenet.comI can kid myself that we’re safe as long as we live here, where tornadoes rarely hit and are rarely very powerful. Then Wednesday happens and I can’t be in denial anymore.

I had Michelle here with me in case I had to take kids in the basement. You never think that the worst will actually happen and I was convincing myself that it was just a precaution. But after hearing the warnings all morning and watching the sky turn green I knew it couldn’t hurt to have extra hands here. Plus a friend to take my mind off things. (And yes, protect me. Thanks Mich.)

I’d been worried all afternoon because I just wanted my kids home. Older was on a school field trip, riding a school bus right up the corridor where the tornado would touch down a few hours later. Younger was at school and I was at home with day care kids, feeling helpless if anything did happen. I needed my kids with me. Thank God they made it here safe and sound before the worst hit.

All we got here at the house was a lot of wind and rain, and it passed pretty quickly. We were relieved and joking around when Dave tried to call me four times in a row. I could hear him saying “Can you hear me?” over and over and I was yelling back at him. I tried to call him back and went to voicemail. I yelled “Figure out how to use your phone!” at some point. Michelle was half-teasing, half-serious when she asked if I had the mute on.

We went back to work and about twenty minutes later Dave burst in. “Do you have any idea what’s going on? Turn on the TV!”

And there we saw the video of the tornado hitting the river and flipping over trucks a few hundred yards away from where Dave was driving home.

The good news was we were all safe and the worst was over, and day care was still happening and there were kids to feed and change and send home. But at some point I had to stop and think, and the first thought I had was, What if that ridiculous phone call was the last time I’d heard my husband’s voice?

To top it off it was Younger’s birthday, and at some point Older came running in yelling that Younger had lost a tooth. What else? What else can happen today? I can only handle so much!

So I wrapped presents and Dave watched more news (away from the kids because we didn’t want to scare them) and we went out to birthday dinner even though we both felt pretty leery about going out before the storms were really over.

A hailstorm hit as we were driving home and the water was just pouring down. The wind was blowing and I eyed the 200-year-old, 40-foot tall, 12-foot round pine tree in my yard. If it ever goes… but at the same time, the trees protected some people I know by taking the brunt of the storm away from their house.

Of course we’d left windows open and the water was forming pools under each one. The boys helped me run around with towels mopping them up. Older was very upset that the couch was drenched and I told him it’s really NOT A BIG DEAL. As I wiped a puddle off a windowsill I thought, I still have a windowsill.

On Wednesday night I tucked my kids into their own beds. As I read to Younger I felt a warmth that I hadn’t noticed in a while. It was the comfort of home and safety and luckily, for me, today - security. I remembered what my father said when he called to make sure we were all safe after the storm: We are the blessed ones.

As I brought the kids to school yesterday I thought about what would happen if my home was flattened. I wouldn’t just lose my home, I’d lose my job. Everything I have revolves around this house. You always think first about what would be lost – all the pictures and memories, do I grab the laptop with the photos on it or my purse as I run out the door? (Preferably both, but after the kids and the cat.) But then you think about, what happens after? How do you go on from something that devastating?

I remembered a resident of New Orleans after Katrina who said the day after the storm that destroyed her town, she was sitting in the rubble of her back yard watching a spider re-build its web. She was struck by how nature just goes on, unphased by disaster. And we go on as well. The day after the storm it was a beautiful, sunny day and we were off to Boston for dad’s graduation. Life goes on – like I hope we would be able to if the worst happened.

There’s Something in the Glade There…

Posted on by Amy Pybus
2

Last night I had a dream that my Older Son was lost in the woods.

I had left him in the care of many other people but they still somehow let him disappear for hours, and when I came back one of the other kids told me he was gone. I put on my hiking boots and was heading out to look for him, my mind racing over the trails and which ones he might have taken, and how scared he must have felt when he realized he was lost.

Then a police car drove up and he was sitting in the back seat. His beautiful 10-year-old almost grownup face was calm and smiling slightly, filled with relief but still a little scared, and I knew it would break into tears when he saw me.

Then the police car turned and Older went off to reunite with someone else, and I was being questioned for how and why he disappeared.

This isn’t a difficult dream to interpret. It’s pretty much a straight line from my subconscious to what’s going on in our lives. Not that I’ve lost my son in the woods, but that we are heading into that metaphoric realm right now, in so many parts of his life. Sports, school, extracurricular events, friends, family; who can he trust and who will help him when he reaches out for it?

And who do I turn to for help when bad things happen? The teacher? Principal? The parents of the kid who bullied him? The grownup who saw bad things happening and just let them, instead of stepping in to protect the children involved? Or the adult who did something hurtful and made my child cry?

What do you do after the fact, when there’s really not much you can do about it? Do I confront them? Am I a lousy mother if I don’t? (Because really, I’m a big chicken and I’m much better at confronting children than adults.)

And then I get to sit and obsess over all the ways I have failed him. It’s my responsibility somehow. I am to blame for being negligent, for letting him get hurt when I wasn’t there. And for not doing anything to avenge him when it happened.

This is why superhero stories are so popular, by the way. In case you were wondering.

I’ve been asking my friends for help as our kids reach the age where the hurts of life start to have a real impact. I think we’re all equally confused but we’re trying so hard to help our kids. That counts for something.

The question for me is not so much what will I do to protect him out there, since I can’t always be there. Even sometimes when I’m in the room things are happening that I don’t know about. I have to focus on what I can do to give my sons the tools they need to face it all, and support them when they don’t understand why something awful happened. And of course try to help them figure out what to do when it happens again.

And as my husband says, when someone does something mean, there’s one positive you can take out of it: recognizing how not to behave.

Being someone whose career involves protecting children, I think it upsets me more when I see other adults who don’t. So even if you don’t know what to do, please step in to help kids who need it. Sometimes all they need is an adult to say, “Hey, what’s going on here?” and diffuse the tension. Do something – don’t just pretend you didn’t see it.

And now for today’s Broadway musical interlude. A sad little ditty set to sprightly music should lift up my depressed mood:

Into the woods, it’s time to go
I hate to leave, I have to, though.
Into the woods, it’s time, and so
I must begin my journey.

Into the woods and down the dell
The path is straight, I know it well.
Into the woods, and who can tell
What’s waiting on the journey?

The way is clear
The light is good
I have no fear
Nor no one should.
The woods are just trees.
The trees are just wood.
No need to be afraid there-
There’s something in the glade there…

- Stephen Sondheim

This Hurts Me More Than it Hurts You

Posted on by Amy Pybus
2

So I made my Older Son cry. I really really really hate when I do that and I really really hate when it happens even if he needs to get a message that he doesn’t want to hear.

In the interest of keeping his privacy and not using events in his life to embarrass him on the internet for all the world to see, let’s suffice it to say that he did something naughty, and it was over the line. I am probably one of the most relaxed moms in the world when it comes to possessions and their destruction. I accept that with two wild boys of my own and seven children who belong to other people in my home, things will get broken and/or damaged. But when it’s done on purpose, that’s a different story.

So I got angry, and I didn’t yell, but I did that even meaner “I am going to remain very calm about this but make it very clear to you how very mad I am and how very DISAPPOINTED too because you know better.” Oh yeah – I pulled out the dreaded “disappointed.”

And he took it and said he was sorry and then quietly went to his bed and hid his head under the blanket and started to cry.

OOOOOOOOOWWW-UH.

I hate that moment. I hate having to be hard on him, and feeling his pain when he is embarrassed and hurt. But it had to be done. And as I stood in the hallway outside his room, willing myself not to go in there, I told myself, sometimes you HAVE to be hard as a parent. And it does hurt me as much as him, or at least we’re hurting equally even though he thinks it’s much worse on his end.

The worst, hardest part is that I can’t cave. I have to stand back and let him cry a little, not swoop in and try to fix it. Sometimes our kids need to feel the pain, and that doesn’t mean we have to shame them, but we have to let them learn those lessons the hard way. It’s part of learning and growing into a responsible person. I hate to sound like crazy old Uncle Joe again, but we’re not doing our kids any favors by letting them get away with it.

BUT we always talk about it afterward and I never let him go to bed without that. We need to clear the air after we’ve fought, or I can’t sleep and he’ll have nightmares. I use one of my mother’s tricks – rub or scratch his back as he’s lying down in bed. She picked this up from one of her friends who used it on her sons to get them to talk about what they’re always hiding from us and not talking about in that boy-like way.

Isn’t it awesome how we moms can help each other out? More please. I need it.

So after a little while (of painful waiting) I climbed in bed with him and he let me. He told me he didn’t know how bad it was and I said it was a mistake and it’s OK because we all make mistakes, and hopefully next time he’ll know it would upset me. And that I always love him no matter what, and he knows that right?

Dave witnessed it all and was trying to make me feel better. He said there are some things Older should know already. He was trying to support me, knowing that what I really wanted to do was run to him and say “It’s OK honey!” and smoosh him with hugs and kisses as soon as the tears came. He knew I wasn’t going to cave but I still needed to hear that I’m not awful. And I’m still the enforcer of consequences. No playdates for at least a week.

Not terrible, but when we’re leaving school and they start begging me and I have to remind them they don’t get them this week, they’ll be embarrassed again. Their friends might ask why and they’ll have to explain it. And I have to let that be. No rescuing.

(And have Younger son negotiating that it wasn’t his idea or his fault so why can’t he have a playdate? Well, you just get the benefit of learning from your older brother, so watch those lessons closely because someday I’m sure you’ll be able to use them to outwit me.)

The funny thing is that these events coincide with a lot of parents telling me they feel guilty for yelling at their kids lately. (Except Michelle, who never feels guilty for it and always makes me feel better when I do. Thanks Mich!) We have somehow bought into the idea that we don’t ever have to be angry at our kids, and if we treat them nicely all the time they will never misbehave, and we’ll all be happy all the time la la la.

Who came up with that!?

It’s not reality and it’s not a standard that ANY of us can live up to. We are all under a lot of stress these days and we lose it (especially when you have little people in your house who are always demanding things and not listening!). And we may not like to see anger in our kids, but it’s there. We are all human, we all get mad, we’re all allowed to yell. We’re not allowed to hurt each other with words or in any other way. We have to deal with our anger in a healthy way, and teach our kids the same thing.

Every time I lose it I go back later and talk to the kids about it. “So. I got really mad before.” They’re dying to talk about it! They want to know why, and tell me why they think I got mad, and what I said, and how they felt, and what they did, and how mad they thought I was, and how scary/funny it was, and how “Mommy, I was just like this: (dumbstruck)” and on and on. Oh they love to break my mental state down. And that’s OK – if we’re talking about it, we can understand each other. If I throw a fit, storm off, and don’t speak to them for the rest of the day, what do they learn?

And finally, we always say we’re sorry and talk about how to make it better. Randy Pausch wrote it brilliantly in his book, “The Last Lecture.” He said, “Proper apologies have three parts.

1. What I did was wrong.
2. I feel badly that I hurt you.
3. How do I make this better?”

I’ve hung on to that last one for dear life. If anyone fights with someone in my house, they don’t have to apologize to me. They have to go make it better with that person.

So let’s review. I got mad and Older deserved it and I didn’t even yell and he got a natural consequence and we talked about it and after our hurt feelings felt better we were all happy la la la. And sometimes I yell without really being mad, and Older doesn’t deserve it (nah, he usually does), and we talk it out and it’s OH-KAY for us parents to yell sometimes. As long as you are loving those kids too, don’t beat yourself up. We have the rest of the world to do that for us. Just remember – this parenting is hard work!

Stop Me, I’m Talking for No Reason Again

Posted on by Amy Pybus
1

I had a problem with NO ONE LISTENING TO ME the other day. I don’t know why that happens. I don’t think there was anything different in my delivery. Is it because one kid decides not to and gets away with it, and the others know it immediately, and they all go “woo-hoo happy fun do what you feel day!”?

That is really annoying.

It started early, which I guess is how it always starts. Just one of those days. My boys were getting ready for school – let me re-phrase that. I was desperately trying to get my boys ready for school, and I hear Older Son’s newest mantra: “Hold ooo-oooon!” His latest obsession is the Fossil Fighters video game and he can’t put it down when “I’m in the middle of a battle!!!”

I actually heard myself saying, “I will throw that game away if you don’t stop playing!!”

I would never throw my kid’s game away. First of all, that’s just plain mean and ridiculous. But second, I paid for it and it cost a lot of money. It would be stupid.

I think Older Son knows this, because he didn’t stop battling.

I give up on him and move to the day care kids, because at least I can get them loaded into the buggy. Miss D and Miss A are fighting over the front door. I tell them to back away while trying to wrestle Miss C’s shoes on (lately she has decided that only SHE will put her shoes on. Unfortunately, she can’t put her shoes on).

Younger Son is pleading for help finding his show & share object that I told him to find six times already, you know, back when we had an hour to get to school.

Miss D and Miss A are still fighting over the front door and it’s getting to where someone is going to get their fingers slammed. My I’ve-Had-It voice comes out: “CLOSE! THE! DOOR!” They both look at me with that teenage attitude face – Whaaat? Then they commiserate: OMG. I mean really, how dare she!

Finally we are all outside except for Older Son. I heave the buggy onto the street, pulling my back in the process. I yell to him that We! Are! Leaving!

There are times when I’m afraid the neighbors are going to call the authorities on me.

By the time he got outside he was whimpering. I’m not sure whether to roll my eyes or let my heart break into the thousand pieces I can feel cracking in it. He said, “I would have been out here already if my laces didn’t break when I was tying my shoes.”

At this moment I feel two very opposing emotions. Furious that he’s still tying his damn shoes when the bell’s going to ring in five minutes. And the shattering heart, because I could hear the frustration, sadness, and stress in his voice.

Oh yeah, and really really annoyed because now I have to re-lace his shoes and the bell is going to ring in three minutes.

By the time I got to school I told Michelle that I was having a Fossil Fighters burning party at high noon, and did she want to come? She said “That sounds like fun!”

But it was good to hear that she’s dealing with this too lately. I heard her telling her son, “I’m only saying it once.” One of my clients told me that her son’s new thing is telling her, “I don’t have to listen to you.”

I guess it’s “that time of year,” especially with the school kids. They can taste the freedom and they’re done with school. So I’m fighting the usual battle of dragging my boys to school, but now intensified, on top of them ignoring me all morning. Love it!

The next time we were running late and I had to resort to putting them in the car they asked, “How soon until the bell rings?” and I said (with a little satisfaction at savoring the moment of their panic), “One minute.” And they panicked and said, “We’re going to be late!!”

And I said, “When I say something I’m usually telling the truth. I don’t do all this talking just for the sake of talking!”

Lego Indiana Jones is Fun

Posted on by Amy Pybus
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Boy oh boy do I get in a lot of trouble around video games. Older Son’s two best friends are big gamers, and they’re basically the friends who got him into them. So I’m not in trouble with my friends. But when I talk to other parents, that’s another story.

Nobody flat out tells me, “You shouldn’t be letting your kids play that.” But you can see it in their eyes. It’s like the little red flags pop up in their pupils.

I grew up with Pong. Then we had the Commodore 64 and Atari. Nintendo came around and I played Super Mario until 2AM. Then I graduated from college, got a life, and stopped playing.

Though I do remember one boring winter weekend in the decade before we were married, Dave and I went to Best Buy and somehow a Nintendo 64 fell off the sale rack into our cart. So we had to take it home and play a lot of Donkey Kong.

Then I got a real life – again – and stopped playing video games. Then I had kids and all I heard was how bad video games are for children!!! I didn’t have such strong feelings, having grown up on them and thinking I turned out to be a pretty normal person. But still, I held out as long as I could because I had to be a good little ’00s mommy.

And then one friend had a DS, and another had a PlayStation, and my sons had to have it, so birthdays and Christmas brought them wonderful surprises.

At first I was terrified of the PS2 controller. WAY too many buttons levers menus and even vibrating things happening there! So I stayed away. But when 4-year-old Younger Son started kicking butt on Lego Star Wars, I decided it was time to step in. Besides they were both laughing at the hilarious cartoons at the end of the levels so I had to see what all the fun was about.

And it was fun. First it was fun because they got to laugh at how bad I was at everything. I didn’t know who my character was (there is so damn much going on in there!), I didn’t know what direction I was going. Older Son was upstage left while I was wandering downstage right, and I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t steer (he was pulling me in, for those of you non-gamers). I pushed the wrong button all the time and they had to scold and yell at me until I got it right. It was so fun for them to know it all and for me to be the big dope.

But then I got good. I started my own version of the games and we would challenge each other. I got 46 percent done, you’re only on 43! Sweet Younger Son only wants to work on helping both Older Son and I improve our scores, he never wants to start his own game. Whose game he plays depends who he loves more that week (or who, in his opinion, needs his help the most).

When the Wii came along I wasn’t all that interested, it didn’t look as fun as the PS2 games and I couldn’t get my hands on it anyway (the boys were always fighting over it). But eventually they sucked me into that one too – we can all play at the same time! And they still love it when I lose my mind because I stink.

Dave doesn’t play video games, so this is the one arena where I’m the cool parent. Come on, I might be mom but he’s got ALL sports and wrestling. If I even TRY to play ball I hear nothing but, “You’re just not as good as Daddy!” So when the boys want to play Wii with a grownup, it’s me they come to.

So the moral of my story? Video games are good (if you can’t go that far, just try for “not evil”). My boys are not glazed-over couch potatoes; in fact, for a while Younger Son created a video game workout. While he was playing he would be standing on the edge of the couch, bouncing up and down in time with his character, as if he was actually inside the game. I have priceless video of that somewhere.

We don’t spend hours and hours and hours and wasted hours in front of the screen (unless it’s rainy/snowy or we just got a new game). They spend most of their time doing other things, and this is just one thing for them to choose.

And you know what? We have a lot of fun together when we’re playing them. That’s all that matters to me.