The Puddles

Writing is a constant in the life of an elementary school child.  But how many adults continue using this skill after their schooling is over.  Each one of my children come home at the end of the year with a journal that they have kept at school and have written in each day.  Most of it is not the “Dear Diary” kind of stuff that we assume journaling is, but most of it is a free writing kind of style where they write about whatever is on their mind.  But everyone should have a place where they can share their deepest emotions without judgement.  A place to get out all of the thoughts and ideas rolling around in their head out.  My children are coming to an age where they will be dealing with so much emotionally (growing up and becoming their future self) that finding an effective and expressive way to deal with it is good.

Since my kids were little (like age 2), they have been keeping a journal about their days.  In those days, it was just a daily picture with a sentence underneath it that they would dictate to an adult.  But they are all bound in a notebook for posterity.   When they transitioned into regular school, those journals became less picture and more written word.  We have even been keeping journals during the summer months.  I love looking back at some of those entries. But now the kids are starting to keep journals that are for their eyes only.  A place to put their deepest thoughts.  Even my non-writer Ben has requested a journal that locks like the girls. He is ready to move to that next level.

Journals are safe places. They don’t judge. They don’t “accidentally” share the information with someone else. They don’t remind you of all of your previous failures.  Each one of us needs that “soft place to land.” Family is the first place where that can happen.  But even there . . . humans aren’t perfect (even if they are family).  I used to keep a journal all of the time.  I look back at some of my entries and marvel how much I’ve grown or how much I worried about the little things.  The best part is to read and see how I’ve become the person I’ve become today.  But over the last several years, I haven’t written.  I don’t know why.  Possibly because my husband is my best friend and a wonderful person to share everything with. (I pray for all of my children that they can find a life partner like I have.) But I’ve lost something by not writing.  So this summer, we are going to go back to our roots. Journaling has always been a part of our summer routine, but the purpose was always to maintain their writing skills. Instead of daily writing assignments, where they journal and I read them, they are going to write and only have to show me that they did it (a flash of the page to prove they wrote something.).   And I will too.

All of my children are good writers and story tellers (they get it from their father).  So I hope my fostering the skill of keeping of a journal and writing every day in it that they will hone that skill.  It may be antiquated.  But it is just as important today as it was 100 years ago and my children will be better people because of it.

I have never had such a tumultuous year before. At least when it comes to the emotional welfare of my child.  Young girls who I have known forever are behaving in such a way that I never thought they would.  I’ve read and seen movies about middle school girls who act like that but I always thought that these young girls would be different.  Most of these girls come from good families with parents who are active and involved in their lives.  Parents who have set good boundaries and have high expectations on how young ladies should behave.  Then why do they do it?  Where are we, as parents, going wrong?  Or are we the problem?

I don’t know. Perhaps in 20 years, I can look back and find a good solution to deal with these girls.  But right now it is a daily battle to keep my daughter from imploding.  These girls know exactly how to attack each others weaknesses and to bring them to their knees.  This is guerrilla warfare.  They attack and then quickly retreat.  We parents who are standing guard rarely witness such an attack.  It is done and over with before we know it.  Then we spend the rest of the time trying to heal the wounds that these attacks have created.

When I have witnessed some of these attacks, I do not stand idly by.  I stop it.  I will use the moment to model better behavior.  By talking to the girls about how different words, different body language and different tones of voice can convey the same message but without the emotional damage.  Because I am a volunteer at school, Girl Scout leader, Sunday School teacher, and youth volunteer, I feel like I know these girls and can have that kind of conversation with them.  But I never have a conversation with them without then calling their parents to let them know what happened.   I can’t tell you how many times that this is how the conversation goes, “I am surprised that my daughter behaved that way. She knows better and I expect better behavior from her.”   And yet . . . they still make poor decisions to bring each other down in order to build themselves up.

I remember feeling isolated and bullied in school.  I ache so deeply knowing that my daughter is feeling the same way.  She has no safe place at school . . . at least emotionally.  Girls who used to be her friends now bully her.  My daughter is not perfect.  I know that she too may have made some bad decisions.  But I as a parent am doing everything possible to help make her a stronger person, so that she doesn’t have to tear someone down in order for her to feel better.  I know that she doesn’t always act in a model way, but we are trying to grow her up to be a fine young lady that brings positive to society. So why is it that we spend every moment that she is home doing damage control from what happens during the day?

Some of her friends that have been her friends since we moved here in first grade are no longer the kind of friends that she can turn to for emotional support.  Each day when she says that she has no friends, we have to figure out who at school are safe places for her to turn to when she is feeling isolated.  We sit down and list the friends that haven’t turned on her.  Not in a negative way.  More like, “Ok. So who in class can you hang with when you need to find a friend? . . . Good. See there are people there who care about you!  Even if you don’t have many friends at school, your life is full of friends.  Let’s list everyone who cares about you because you are you. . . . That’s great.”  Then we talk about the good things that happened at school.  She can list a negative, but she has to follow it with a positive.  (By the way, we have been doing highs and lows for years!  But in the last year this has become an integral part of  of our daily routine.)  We have gratitude journals. We have her in counseling. We try to find ways for her to connect with these girls outside of school so that these bonds of friendship can become stronger.  We have filled her life with strong female adults who mentor her.  It may seem like we are micromanaging her life.  We are in some ways.  These girls at school have torn her up so emotionally that she hates the very things that have brought her joy in the past.  School. Girl Scouts. Library. Life.  She doesn’t want to be a part of any of it.

“The least, the last, and the lonely.”  That phrase has been repeated in my house since the kids were little.  We have taught her that our job in life as Christians is to reach out to this group.  But now . . . she is a part of that group.  The fringes of society that many would just rather have them go away then try to bring them back into the fold.  But that is our job.  As parents. As Christians. As humans. So why is it that others don’t feel the same?  Why is it that we would rather justify the actions of our children then try to teach them to do better?  To be better.  There are days that I want to send each one of these parents back to middle school for a day to remember what it feels like.  Perhaps that will help them remember what it feels like to be on the outside of “normal”.  Odds are . . . it won’t. Because we are humans and our memories are short.  We either forget what it feels like to be ostracized or we remember so deeply that we use our children to leash the pain out on others that we ourselves felt as children or we feel it is a right of passage that all must go through in order to reach adulthood.  

But I am tired.  I desire a world that is different.  I desire a world that doesn’t put such cruel tests in front of my child in order for them to reach adulthood.  I never thought that I would even fathom the idea of withdrawing my child from school and turn to an alternative like homeschooling, private school, or a transfer to another school.  But we have been trying to deal with the drama by helping our daughter, conferencing with teachers, and talking to the parents of the other girls.  But I am discouraged by the lack of results.  It feels like too much.  I think it might be time just wave the white flag and surrender.  Maybe we should just recognize that this situation is not fixable by us and that the best choice is to retreat.  It may be time to hunker down and get her out of the current situation.  Allow her the time and distance to heal.  We can pray that a summer apart from this group of girls will  give her the chance the build up her resources so that she can once again face this group of girls again with her tank full.  I too must find some time and space to refuel my tanks.  Because right now I am ready to resort to the less mature side of myself.  The side that taps into my inner middle school girl and tears these girls and their parents up.  Vengeance. Retaliation. Salting the earth. Burning bridges. These phrases run through my mind, but my common sense says that these solutions aren’t good. But I may not be able to hold out much longer.  So I too must seek serenity. I too must fill up my resources to better handle the emotional toil on my daughter. I too must turn to God to seek wisdom on how to best to handle all of this. My most earnest prayer would be that we could skip ahead 10 years, but that is a foolish prayer.  We will get through this.  We will build our daughter up so that she becomes a strong woman able to conquer anything that she desires to do and that she contributes to society in a positive way.  We will pray that we will remember the lessons that we learn dealing with our first daughter so that we can apply them to our second daughter when she too reaches this age.  I know that many others have travelled this road ahead of us.  So I know that we can do this and that we will do this.  And with our head held high, we march forward into an uncertain future knowing that we are doing the best that we can to help our daughters be the best that they can be.

I love being a wife and a mom.  But sometimes it is really hard.  It feels like you have to be rock in a constantly shifting sea.   Struggling to fight against the constantly shifting waves and to not loose my footing.  My kids are near the end of their cute and cuddling stage. I can tell that they are starting to enter the next stage of life.  They are trying to figure out who they are.  They are starting to test their chops at sarcasm.  Their friends are exposing my kids to more and more things that we have tried to shield them from.  But, I can’t shut out the world.  All I can do is to try to give them the tools that they need to deal with it.

Why is it that self-worth is so often the first part of their personality to take a nose dive? How do I teach my kids to be brave and resilient in the face of criticism when I struggle with it myself?  I know how hard it is put yourself out there and to have that part of you stomped on.  It can wear you down.  How strong is their foundation?  Can they stand up against the tide?  I constantly worry that I am not doing enough to build their character to handle the tough situations.  I wish I could be with them every moment of the day, but that is unrealistic.  So how can I give them the tools to deal what life gives them?

There are adults that I know who don’t deal well with others and I think to myself that their childhood must have been rough to create an adult like that.  But then I know adults who are pillars and I want to glean from them everything I can about life so that I can equip my children with those qualities.  I have such a short time with them.  Soon they will grow up and be on their own.  I need to do everything that I can to train them to be the best adults that they can be.  It isn’t easy.  I mess up a lot. But I’m trying.

This is the question that Ainsley has  asked several times now.  Her friend died this week when she was struck by a car.  It is so hard to see Ainsley struggle with this tragic death.  She came home yesterday after finding out and she just tried to stay brave for a while.  But she had been brave all day and she just needed to let all go.  Daddy came home early and he and I met her off the bus so that we could talk.

“She’s never going to get to grow up.” “How do they know she’s dead?”  “Why did CPR not work?” “Whose fault is it?”  and her most vigorous plea . . . “It’s just not fair.”  No, Ainsley. It is not fair.

But her faith is strong and she knows that God is a part of all of this even though he certainly didn’t cause any of it.   She knows that her God is hugging Jazmin in heaven right now, not because he needed another angel but because something bad happened and he wanted to comfort her.  She has drawn pictures and written a letter to send to the family.  She has requested prayers for Jazmin at church and prayed for her family and all those who hurt because of this loss.   She took a rose today to place on Jazmin’s desk and wants to bring pictures tomorrow to decorate her desk because that is what Jazmin would like.

She is hurting through this journey and I hate that all we can do is walk with her and love her as she heals from this sadness.  I cry with her and hold her close as I selfishly thank God that it wasn’t Ainsley.

It is amazing how resilient children are.  She will move through this.  She says that she wants to help others in her class who are more sad than she is.  She wants to help them to not hurt so much.  She worries that her friend’s family is hurting so bad that they won’t be able to be happy again.

But we found this picture of her and Jazmin and wants to print it out so she can carry it with her.  This way she can’t forget her friend.

It has been a long and wonderful day.  The kids each had a friend spend the night.  Six kids at dinner was a table full.  It was great to see them all laughing and enjoying each others presence.  How many more days will we have like this?  I realize that we are closer to the end of our child rearing days than to the beginning (maybe if only by a little).  Maybe it’s the fact that I’m starting to feel the passage of time, but I relish these days.  I love having a house full of kids.  It makes me appreciate the quieter times.  It was a good day in May.

All three came up with a Tree of life shirt to wear today. On their own. Without prompting. And did you notice they are not at church? My first thought was . . . Do we train our train our kids right? Great advertising! My second thought was . . . We desperately need a new design on our tshirts. And my third thought was . . . The Lake family owns too many TOL shirts.

One of our favorite traditions that we have taken with us from Nebraska is May Day baskets. Last night the kids and I made 100 May Day baskets to take the school to share with teachers and friends.

The real tradition in Nebraska it is that the kids make the May Day baskets then take them to a friends house and put them on the door, ring the doorbell, and run away. If the person inside the house catches the kids before they leave, then they get to kiss the kids . My favorite part of this holiday is that the emphasis is on the kids making the baskets and giving them and not on receiving the baskets.

Ben was having fun last week and took the camera to record his latest build!

Check it out here.

This common medical affliction has descended upon our house with full force.  No one is happy today.  Everyone wishes they were back at camp.  Which is a total 180 from what happened when I picked them up from camp yesterday, Ben and Madie couldn’t stop talking.  Ben was a chatterbox.  He was so proud of himself and all of his accomplishments (more about that to come).  He had made so many new friends.  He loved everyone in his cabin.  His counselor, Adam, was fabulous and the entire experience was beyond great.

I got to camp about an hour early because I wasn’t entirely sure where the camp was and there was NO WAY I was going to be late.  My arriving early meant that I was able to see some of the final activities for the kids.  I was able to spy on the kids for about 20 minutes before they knew that I was there.   I just stood on the hill overlooking the field where they were all gathered and tried to fight off the tears.  There was Ben with his superhero cape on (they made them at camp) flying around from friend to friend talking to everyone.  If you know Ben, you know that he is an introvert so for him to feel so comfortable to be talking and laughing to so many people meant that he was among friends.  All of the kids were smiling and playing.  Madie was busy running around talking and having people sign her pillow.  When they finally saw me,  they couldn’t stop talking over each other to introduce me to their new friends and counselors.  They were ecstatic about everything.  Their friends, their experiences, the food, the songs, etc.  I was thrilled to see them both so happy.

Today (and half of yesterday) that happiness has turned to sadness, especially with Ben.  He is so sad.  Here was a camp where he wasn’t different.  Today he turns back to reality where his entire day is spent being “different”.  He is pulled from regular class to go to a different class for his learning disability. He is pulled out of recess to go to the nurse for his daily blood pressure check.  He doesn’t participate fully in PE.  He can’t go outside with his friends today because it will be over 85 degrees so he will go the library and play computer games by himself.  This weekend was different.  He was just like everyone else.  The camp was structured for kids like him.  He wasn’t the different kid.

His sadness makes me sad. I go over to hug him and he just slumps against me and says he wants to go back to camp.  I know that I need to just give him time and he will get out of this slump.  I can’t fix it.  He has to do this himself.  All I can do is love him and let him know that I am there if he needs me.  And don’t worry . . . I’ve already put next year’s camp on my calendar so I make sure that he gets to go again!!