Leap of faith

I have found most aspects of being a mother requires taking almost daily leaps of faith, especially when parental responsibilities.  Mothers are super efficient at multi-tasking, thanks in large part to the many eyes in the back of our head, and often think we can do everything associated with our children better than anybody else.  We accept the responsibility of being our children's biggest advocate and hope and pray not to drop the ball along the way.

I think one of the greatest challenges working mothers face is the one associated with child care.  I was blessed with the ability to stay home for three months and to work part time another two months afterwards.  Even still, it was hard for me to give this precious bundle I hadn't fully trusted myself with over to someone I was not married to, related to or known almost half my life.  The first week was probably the most gut wrenching ever, but my new mommy nerves settled and KIC did well.

From that first day with someone else providing for KIC's needs,  we had an idea in our minds as to what KIC's schooling future would be like.  All day childcare/preschool through to elementary school.  We (mostly me) had a very definite idea of the style of education that KIC should be exposed to.  We found a school that operated the way I thought I would thrive, therefore, KIC would thrive in that environment as well.  Except, somewhere along the way, KIC got lost.  She didn't hear very well for a long time, thanks to recurring ear infections that lasted well over 16 months.  She followed what her peers did, not really what the teacher said.  Even when she could hear well, the pattern had been established and trying to get a response directly from KIC was like pulling teeth.  She doesn't like to be wrong (I have NO idea where she gets that from), so she wouldn't even attempt an answer.  This would apply if you were asking her what she did five minutes ago or if you were asking her what color she was wearing.  She would say she didn't know, but could later be found reciting things like "blue + red = purple" to herself.  As a mother, it was very frustrating to know that she knew the concepts, but refused to demonstrate that she did.  KIC was no trick pony and she wasn't afraid to let you know.

I had to start considering a learning style different to what she was currently used to.  Her teachers were wonderful, but she wasn't retaining what she learned, at all.  Also preying on my mind, was the fact that every summer of her young life would be taken up in a school or camp environment.  It's one of the accepted aspects of being a working mother, but I couldn't help but think of my carefree summers and want that for KIC.

As it became clearer that we would have to pursue a different learning style for KIC, a tremendous opportunity came up to have someone we knew, trusted and liked give KIC the carefree summer of her young life.  Our focus was making the summer fun and pressure free.  Admittedly, my original request was to have KIC work on the areas where she needed the most practice.  Pretty quickly, that gave way to me relinquishing control and watching KIC bloom.  Make no mistake, KIC has always been a happy child, so I could never say she was miserable in the school setting.  But from the  very beginning of this new experience, KIC was somehow lighter than she had been while in school.  Each summer day was a brand new choose your own adventure chapter for her, and she was loving it.  Choices!  Fun!  And if some organic learning was snuck in, KIC embraced it.  It reinforced my belief that KIC needed something different.

So, now what to do?  KIC would always be welcomed at the old school, but was it what she needed?  How much trial and error could we afford, trying to find what worked for her?  The answer came quickly, but would require a leap of faith from us as well as from the person who had only signed on for a summer of fun.  Mostly on her part, cuz we Shoups are a crazy bunch.  I am not going to say that the Type A part of me came to the decision easily.  I am prone to fretting and fret I did, but KIC had improved in too many areas to be able to let my fears outweigh benefits so obvious, they smacked me upside the head.

All this to say, KIC will not be attending a preschool in the fall.  She will continue to stay at home and learn in a way that she cannot easily get lost behind her peers.  While her days of fabulous manicures and pedicures (!) and glamour girl picnics at a performing arts parks may be numbered, the door to her potential has opened that much wider.  We are extremely grateful for the opportunity and feel strongly that no matter how high this leap of faith is for all concerned, KIC has already come out a winner.  Please...with a mom like me, she can't help it!  ;)

Still the world goes round

For those not in "the know", a couple of months ago, I left my fancy White House job.  I had one too many late nights combined with one too many missed bedtimes and felt I needed a change.  I took a position with a company I worked for previously that was closer to home and promotes a better work life balance for all.  

Along about the same time I started my new job, we decided K needed something new with regards to her daily routine.  Originally, the idea was for her to go to summer camp through my new job, but when that fell through, we decided a summer of fun would be in order.  We were able to find a wonderful woman who would accept our crazy zoo AND give KIC a super fun summer.  Suddenly, it was like a burden was lifted from my shoulders.  KIC would have an entire summer spent, not with me comparing her to her peers and seeing where the weaknesses were, but instead, doing wonderful, fun, enriching things that neither Brent nor I have much opportunity to do with her.  Both KIC and her caregiver have embraced many new experiences this summer and KIC loves to share her stories with anyone who will listen.

The transitions, coming as close as they did, set the Shoup axis on tilt for a hot second.  I will admit, for my part, certain transitions have been harder on me than I anticipated.  I really did love my job at the White House and I love all the people I met there.  It was hard to avoid comparisons between the new job and my old job.  But I didn't fully appreciate how well my child had adapted to me being gone all the time until yesterday.

Me, pointing to a picture of Barack Obama:  KIC, who is this?
KIC:  I don't know.
Me:  That's Barack Obama.
KIC:  You used to live with him, right?
Me, smiling: No, I used to work for him.
KIC:  But then you left so you could spend more time with me, right? 
Me:  I sure did.  I love you, bebes. 
KIC:  I love you too, Mommy.

After a conversation like that, where I realize that KIC not only recognized my absence, adapted to it and appreciates my presence, it puts things into perspective.  The truth is, she'll love me no matter where I work and moments like this are fleeting.  Suddenly, I don't yearn for what I don't have anymore (as much), I appreciate (again) the gift that is my child.

You gotta know when to hold it

KIC isn't always a reliable source. She's selective about what she shares (see: My little spy), but the when is always sketchy and it's usually only what she wants to share, not what you want to know. I'm sure, in time, we'll be getting more details than we ever wanted to know, but until then, I'm content with little gems like this.

KIC: "My friend, XXX, had an askident. He pooped on the pwaygwound!"
Me: "He did?!?!"
KIC: "Yeah, he did! AND! XXX XXXX stepped in it!" (this is confirmed by the teacher double-bagging the unfortunate soles...haha! See what I did there?)
Me: "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh mannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. I'm sure your friend XXX will be okay."

At this point, I'd like to mention that the school served the following throughout the course of the day:
- Blueberry muffins
- Yams
- Baked Apples
- Pineapples

If I had all that in the course of a day, I might be pooping on the playground too. Also, I'd like to learn some lessons from XXX. He apparently pooped while ON THE GO! That is TALENT!

Back to my conversation with KIC. As we walked down the steps to leave school, we noticed some crackers on the steps that had been ground into the tread.

KIC: "Someone spilled their food!"
Me: "It's okay. Since I'm sure it wasn't you, we'll be okay."
KIC: "Yeah, it wasn't me! You know what, Mommy? I was a good girl. I kept my poop in my bottom!"
Me (stifling a laugh): "Yes, baby, you did keep your poop in your bottom."

Can you list that as a resume skill? Knowing when to hold your poop? Cuz if so, KIC's got that particular talent DOWN and isn't afraid to tell you about it.

A Mother's Creed

I have found that as a mother to any creature (well, maybe not fish), we are often vulnerable to judgement from outsider's. It's not that we make ourselves vulnerable, it's that people feel it's appropriate to comment on what we are doing. You learn to smile, nod and ignore it (if it's unsolicited) or take it with a grain of salt. But sometimes, in your weakest moment, a kernel of doubt wedges itself in your brain, and in your heart. The following tidbit is for those times:

A Mother's Creed
I am a mother first, a wife second and a friend always.

I am not perfect, nor should I try. It is my duty and obligation to make mistakes - otherwise, how will I learn?

I will not always be patient, wise and kind, but I will always love my child (whether furry or human) through thick and thin.

My house will never be featured in "Tidy Homes USA", but friends and family will always be welcome.

My meals will never not always be from scratch, or even made at home, but judge me by the time spent with family, and not by the meals that I serve.

My child may not have the prettiest ponytails or coordinating Gymboree outfits, but she is sent off to school with a hug, a kiss and an "I love you" every morning and that's what I hope she remembers.

I work full time to help provide for my family while my daughter goes to school all day - that won't change and we are all okay with that.

At the end of the day, nothing said or done will change the fact that my child is my legacy and she's who matters most. In the meantime, we learn together through this parenting.

If it ain't broke...

... don't try to fix it!

I read a post at amalah.com that really struck a chord with me. In a nutshell, she's talking about her son's educational future and some of the challenges they face with her son's autism. In it, she says: "so we keep chugging along and showing up and doing everything we possibly can to help, to guide, to aid.

But not to "fix."

Because you can't fix something that isn't broken. And my child is not, and never has been, broken."

I think, as parents, we should all take this view. Challenging? Absolutely. Maddening? You're not doing it right if your child doesn't drive you mad every once in awhile. Lucky to escape with lives (and hair) intact? Well, that's a post for another day, but the point is, no matter what teachers or doctors or family and friend say, you should never view your child as "broken." Embrace them, embrace how they are different and spend less time trying to "fix" what isn't "broken." Guide them instead. Guide them towards spirituality, morality and confident self-awareness. You'll spend less time worrying about how they measure up to their peers, or whether or not they are where they should be developmentally and be able to make room for things that are more important - the child themselves.

Just a public service announcement from your not-so-famous Aunt Kelly.

This hurts me more than it hurts you

I remember hearing that when I was growing up and feeling like it was a complete crock of ... Anyway, I was face with that very situation this morning. On our way to school, KIC found a cookie. She asked me if she could have the cookie and I explained we don't eat cookies for breakfast (unless you're in college, but that's a whole different ballgame). She agreed and we discussed when it was appropriate to eat cookies (after lunch, after dinner, when you're sad, when you're mad at daddy - oh wait, that's me). I was very proud of her for helping to establish boundaries!

Imagine my surprise, then, when I opened the car door to see the telltale Oreo cookie crumbs around her mouth. As I stood there in shock, she opened her mouth to reveal even more evidence. I explained why what she did was not appropriate and meted out her punishment - no tv tonight. I left her in her class letting her know that I was fine with her, but that she shouldn't have eaten the cookie after I already said no and reinforced no television for the evening. As I left her classroom, I could hear her heartbroken sobs and that's when I realized - this really does hurt me more than it does her. I wanted to rush back to the classroom and tell her everything was okay, but it wasn't okay and even if I did that, I'd be consoling myself more than I would be consoling her. I walked away, brokenhearted, knowing that she'd be fine in a couple of minutes but feeling like Mommy Dearest. I know when I get home, she'll be giggles and smiles and happy to see me, but that moment will weigh on me all day. This really did hurt me more than it hurt you.