Spring, and New Beginnings

The crocus are all open in our neighborhood, and there are tiny green leaves on all the Willow trees. I love this time of year. Winter here isn’t really that long or harsh, but it’s gray, and such a dull palette really gets to you after a while. Snow would help, because a blanket of fresh white can make an otherwise drab winter day look dazzling, but we don’t have that very often. By March, we are ready for green. And we gladly take the yellow, purple and magenta that come with the crocus and forsythia, with the promise of more colors to come.

Spring arriving this year feels like last spring, but, as happens every season, I notice how much the kids have changed since the same time last year. We celebrated the very first warm weekend day with a bike ride, and no one was in a bike trailer! With everyone able to power themselves along the trail, we noticed how all our family outings have changed slowly over time and will continue to change. We no longer carry diaper bags or time excursions around naps. We no longer hike with a 30-pound child in a backpack. And now, with everyone capable of pedaling their own bicycles, there is a tremendous sense of freedom and hope for more ambitious adventures to come.

Last weekend we also made a new joyous discovery. Along with the green peeking out on the landscape and the lovely bike trip, we have found that are boys are now big enough to be a source of labor! Who knew? Jim and I went through piles of old books last weekend and found many that we don’t want anymore. We piled the out-of-date guidebooks next to the novels we never liked and left several large stacks on the top of the third floor landing. Then we ignored the pile because neither of us could find the time to transfer all the books downstairs where we could figure out what to do with them.

The books caused me stress every time I walked by them and wondered how long they would be there. Then Jim had an epiphany. “Hey boys,” he said. “We’ll give you two dollars each if you carry all these books downstairs.” They were thrilled! They made about eight trips each, lugging book after book down two flights of stairs. They were ecstatic about their hard-earned money. The next day Jim handed the boys shovels and they very willingly went to dig holes in the yard and help plant raspberry and blackberry bushes. What was truly remarkable about these two events was that the boys were actually helpful. The work they did really contributed something. It was also remarkable that they didn’t complain, although I imagine the novelty of realizing they could be helpful will wear off and they won’t always be such eager beavers.

I miss having babies now that I don’t have one anymore. I risk throwing my back out every time I lift Hugo. But, as sure as the seasons come and go, kids grow up and change. With the prospect of spring and new beginnings upon us, I am embracing this new phase of parenthood, with two boys that are truly family participants now. 

And They Are Who They Are

Before I had kids I would have told people that I’d have no problem with any kind of child I had: outgoing or shy, athletic or artistic, straight or gay. I enjoy all kinds of people and always have, as long as they mean well and are kind. I felt that I could accept any kid I got, and then help instill the values that my husband and I find important: being kind and honest, open-minded, hard working, and generous, etc. I figured that the reason some parents struggled with they way their child is was because they had rigid hopes for the child that didn’t necessarily fit with the child’s interests, for example, they would only be happy with a child who wanted to become a doctor or lawyer and captain of a varsity sports team. You get the idea. And I knew that would never be me.

And it isn’t me…not really. My kids are very different from one another and I truly am amused, amazed, and delighted by them just for being who they are. But, I worry more about Jasper probably more than I ever will about Hugo, because I realize that his experience being a person that is a little different might be harder for him. I thoroughly appreciate him, that’s not it. What other child, upon hearing I brought home a DVD on the history of government, squeals with glee and wants to leave the dinner table to watch it right now? I love that about him. He just can’t get enough knowledge, and now I pretty much have to google every question he asks me because I don’t know the answers. But, although his lofty intellect far exceeds his years, his social skills do not. I cringe on the playground when he walks around by himself and doesn’t approach other kids. He does have friends, but he does much better with them one-on-one. If there is a group, he doesn’t know what to do. If a friend he usually plays with plays with someone else, he won’t go over to them. He just doesn’t know how. I see how painful this can be for him and my heart aches, and I find myself secretly wishing he were just a little different. Why can’t he be more outgoing? Why can’t he be more comfortable around other people or in groups?

I get angry at myself for having those thoughts. But I do see what a much easier time his little brother has. He’s not shy. If he wants something, let’s say a snack or a chance to try out a skateboard, he will march over to boys five or six years older and a foot taller than he is and ask them. His interests overlap with other boys’: ball sports, roughhousing and race cars, so it’s easy for him to find someone to play with. Fitting in, for him, is just never a problem. I remind myself that it’s my job to parent the kids I have, and that they do not enter the world fully formed. Everyone has challenges, and my task is to help my children navigate their way in the world and to give them tools to face their challenges.

As I walked my son to school this morning and he talked about his difficulty on the playground, I told him that lots of people feel shy. We talked about ways to start conversations, and how it’s just nice to say hello. After school we stayed to play at the playground to take advantage of the beautiful weather.  I saw Jasper wander around alone for a while. He didn’t go near any other kids and my heart just sank. An unfortunate mother on the playground got an earful from me as I unburdened my soul to her about how I worry about him. But then, Jasper found his friend, Hannah, and they played off to the side together. Then I noticed another shy boy see them and run across the field to hide behind a tree to watch them. In this moment I saw another painfully shy kid with no idea how to approach two other children he knew he liked to play with. I thought, here is a teaching moment! I need to tell Jasper to invite that boy to play. But, before I ever made a move I saw Jasper go over to him, and before long they were all playing together and soon after that a couple more kids joined in. Needless to say, I was overjoyed.

On the walk home Jasper told me that at the playground he saw someone behind the tree and he went to see who it was. He said that when he saw the other boy he said, “Hi Rowan, do you want to play with us?” And, sure enough, Rowan did. Jasper was so proud of himself, and so pleased with the positive result. I surged with pride then, just so happy that he tried out this new skill and that it worked. So tonight, I can rest a little easier knowing that we have made some progress on this hurdle, even though I know there are many more to come.