Learning to Trust your Gut

A youth counselor. A pediatrician. A neighbor. A teacher. A priest. A classmate.

Respected elders?  Sometimes.  But several recent conversations, these were the people who tried to take sexual advantage of either me or friends when we were younger.

Last weekend’s conversation reminded me of the importance of teaching our kids to “trust their guts”.   Even as adults, we are so programmed from our youth to respond yes to “authority figures” We should remind ourselves and our children that is perfectly okay to say NO.

If we TEACH our kids to trust their feelings, and to listen to their instincts, it might help them avoid a potentially dangerous situation.  We are animals, and our instincts have evolved over centuries.  We need to teach them to listen to their bodies, which can give them warnings that only they can feel:

•  If a situation feels creepy, it probably is.  Get out, if you can.   It is NOT okay for a young classmate to expose himself to you—one, two, three times—while others smirk in the corners, watching the show created for you.
•  If you suddenly hear the waves in your ears, ocean miles away, your fingers feeling electric with awareness, take a step back.  When someone asks you to “just send them a naked picture” or “wants to take a few sexy pictures with you” know that when it feels uncomfortable, you can say NO!
•  That pit in your stomach, when someone touches you, even on our shoulder, when you want to pull away.  When the doctor asks you to strip down because you have a cold, ask WHY?
•  That shrieking internal voice screaming “THIS ISN’T RIGHT!!”  means “LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE.  I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE.”  And do it.  Walk away, run away.

Kids, trust your parents, or an older sibling, or a teacher that you DO feel comfortable with. Try to talk to someone if a person has tried to hurt you, coerce you, threaten you, buy you, or you just know that something isn’t right.

Parents, trust your kids.  When they stammer that they don’t want to be around a specific teacher, doctor, babysitter, neighbor, they are most likely saying it because  their internal warning signals have said not to trust someone they are “supposed” to.  Great for them, that they recognized these feelings.

Sometimes kids—and adults—can’t verbalize WHY they don’t trust someone, don’t want to be around them.  And that is OKAY.

These recent conversations were scary because of how many people I know were preyed upon, fortunately with no success.  But another weakened day, and any of us might have been victims.  A life-lesson for me that “trusting my gut” is still important, sometimes my kids can be wiser than me about certain people, and teaching them to “trust their gut” can be life-saving.

Take tonight to talk to your kids.  Share these words with them, if you wish.  It is that important to me. C

2/8/12–Two updates.  One is the sad fact that an elementary school in LA is replacing their ENTIRE staff after arrests for 2 teachers committing lewd acts, a third one today.  Two is that it is incredible how many people reached out to me on FB today to share their similar stories.  TALK TO YOUR KIDS NOW!!  Have the squirmy conversations now, strengthen your kids–and yourself–for life.

Trouble 201

Boy trouble.  Girl trouble. Schoolwork trouble. Sports trouble. Friend trouble.  Hair trouble. Outfit trouble. Decision-making trouble.  Sleeping trouble. Waking trouble.

As the kids get older, helping them navigate their expanding worlds and changing brains and bodies gets more difficult.  The choices and decisions now seem so much harder to make than which diaper to buy, when to offer soft foods, when to let them ride their bikes around the block alone.

We help them think through their options but hope for the best outcome for them, in the longterm.  We hope to help them grow undamaged, supporting them through their tears and questions.  A hug. A smile. A tear ourselves.

I thought today about those kids without support, who cannot or will not approach their parents.  I thought about those whose guardians assume they the solve their own problems, resolve their own issues.  I thought about those raised in a hostile world, no where to turn.  No hope.  Only loneliness, confused ideas, unresolved problems. cornered, unanswered.

Isn’t that our job as parents?  Step outside ourselves when our kids are in need, listen, guide them as they talk through their feelings, their issues, their concerns.  Then watch, hope they  continue to move forward. C

 

Sharing Times

We have just passed the Thanksgiving week and entered the hurdles approaching Christmas.  The seasons of giving and receiving and asking and celebrating.  I peruse the Christmas lists made,  and wonder that my kids—or any other I know–can really NEED anything this holiday season when so many others go without.  Food. Warm coat that fits. Blankets. Boots. A cookie. Pencils.

Though there have been rough patches this year: fears of less work, health issues, loss of friends, we have been fairly fortunate compared to others.  So does that mean my kids shouldn’t get to ask for the things they want to miraculously appear under their tree on an upcoming Saturday morning?  We should all have our dreams, our hopes, but on the day that ALL of our wishes come true then…what is left to wish for?

So, as we have been doing since they were young, we will peruse the lists and yes, they will find some of their wants met, there will not be black lines crossing off every item on their carefully constructed lists.   We will leave each items to save for, to forget, to dream about, one less item to lose or break or outgrow.  We will also reach out to others in need, hand picking gifts to wrap and give to those we do not know, help stock the food pantry, find organizations we believe in to support, and remind them–and us–there are others who need so much more.

Hopefully this giving Christmas cheer will continue into the new year, so the times of sharing of ourselves, our funds, our time, our possessions will carry on. Who knows?  Maybe someday we will be the family in need of food. Boots. Pencils. C

Pomp and Diplomas

Middle school graduation, not as traumatic as high school ceremonies, not as ridiculous as pre-school or  kindergarden graduations, but a rite of passage.  I sat surveying the HS gym, watching students go up for awards, listening to speeches I imagined being repeated in schools and grade levels around the country, perhaps almost simultaneously spoken words being said. Girls wore their summer dresses under the hideous polyester blue gowns (no hats or tassels to throw up or move), boys in clunky shoes and khakis, parents with flowers and balloons, most dressed for the occasion.

It was a reasonable event to honor the almost 400 students, most of whom are moving to this very school we were seated in, in three short months. They will be the rookies again, another passage that repeats in high school, college, a new neighborhood where you move and know no one, a new job–being that kid who doesn’t know the ropes, the shortcuts, and learns by observing and asking and imitating.  

Earlier in the day, the thought of that graduation was overwhelming, that I would have a high school student soon–and all the perils and trials and joys that can bring.  But watching the kids during the ceremony, I knew that they were ready to move on to the bigger school, having earned more freedom to choose their paths, find their way, and grow yet again.

I looked down at my Tara, my oldest babe too big to sleep on my chest or burp or tell how to dress, but I am so proud of who she has become, having moved schools in the dreaded 5th grade, making close friends, having academic and athletic success, and then seeing who she is growing into, wondering what the next four years will bring.  

There will be success and hard work and mistakes as she learns to become and adult.  But hopefully we will be back in another four years as she finishes high school and gets ready to leave home for college (not ready for that yet!).

C

Body Parts

The human body can be beautiful, it can be grotesque.  One assignment for school has been to shoot body parts, but none of the entire face.  Here are a couple of mine, with my daughter Devon my muse.

love the texture, the simplicity, the color, the neatness–and the messiness simultaneously

 and my favorite…

 C

“I will never….”

Ah, the self righteousness of the inexperienced and the innocents.  From the mouths of blatherers both well-intended and inspired and in the unspoken words but obvious body gestures come the thoughts of those who have yet-to-experience certain phases of life.  Parenthood, I’m thinking about specifically, right now.

We all know them, and we have been them ourselves, whether we admit it or shake our heads no.  My friends and I sometimes joke now about never saying “I will never…” since it might come to pass that “I will… ” in fact do what I pinky swore not to do.

There are the things people say before having children like “I will never take drugs during childbirth-give my baby formula-lose my temper with my child-use disposable diapers-let my child run my life-stop staying out until 3 am (well, that one might be true…)-put my child in daycare-be a stay at home mom-work outside the home”.

When you hold that tiny infant, hope to protect it from all the evils and bad influences that surround him or her, you don’t remember all those “I will nevers” as you manage to get through each day, perhaps adding another child or puppy or lizard to this mix.  Watching friends and strangers in the world, thoughts then become “I will never buy my boy a toy gun (but then realize that boys turn ANYTHING into a weapon)-let my child get really hurt in the playground-use the TV as a baby-sitter-let my child have a sleepover until he/she is 10-feed my kid chicken nuggets and other beige food several times a week-let my child wear designer clothes-walk to the bus themselves.”

The list gets longer as the children get older.  “I will never let my son play tackle football-spend a fortune in time and money on travel sports-be as involved in their school as my mom was-let them be too busy-nag them-when they are teenagers, let them go to the mall/amusement park/Chicago/movies with no adults-ride a car with a 16 year old driver-ride their bikes on sidewalkless busy roads-yell at my child-worry enough to check their text messages.”

How many of your “I nevers” have you done?  In hindsight, I will try to abstain from the “I nevers” since life is so unpredictable. The list I would have for when my eldest turns 16 would be sickeningly long.  I do know that I will never knowingly let my kids host a party that involves alcohol while they are underage, and after seeing my neighbor’s daughter go out recently I will never let my daughters go out in THAT dress. 

And I hope I will never have a blue grey curly perm when I am in my 70′s.  But no promises. C

Sayanora Summer

While there may technically be 25 days left in summer, for millions of American families the summer is technically, officially Over.  School starts today.  For us and many of my friends, it feels like summer really ends in early August, when schedules begin again, and we start prepping for school. 

Football practice–5 days a week for 8 year olds?– cut into any evening events, soccer camp, buying school supplies (including 3 packs of baby wipes and 22 boxes of Kleenex for the teachers), haircuts, shiny new shoes, Back to School Day, dental appointments or physicals, and even buying books for myself as I begin my first college class in 20 years all cut into the languid days of summer. 

I relish our free Sundays, which don’t fill up until this weekend with soccer and football games, fall ball and tennis for other friends, knowing that they end now.  We have made a conscious effort to enjoy our free time–swimming, biking, boating, and spending with friends–knowing that the Busy days start now.  Relax, while time is again speeding up, too soon, as the glorious days of summer beckon us from outside our windows. C

Soccer Knees

The thought of practicing “diving headers”, while the ground is soft enough to swallow cleatless-shoes and drops of half-frozen rain skitter from the sky, makes me shiver.  To my daughter, this was the most fun practice she had all season.  In mud from the front of her face to the heels on her socks, she was still giggling as she hopped in the shower to scrub down.

While she was writhing in mud,  I was cheering on my son as he scored a goal during his soccer game, wrapped in a down sleeping bag, wearing my hat and gloves.  This would be followed later in the day by opening baseball day in the same stop-and-go relentless windy rain.

My friends and I watched that never-ending baseball game yesterday,  knowing it was part of the mom (and dad) job description to suffer through the game hoping for one successful hit or a catch, the latter rare for 8-year-olds.

Yes, my weekends and after-school time is filled watching endless soccer, baseball, and basketball games, concerts and dance recitals,  boys climbing trees and me cleaning the scrapes that follow the fall, tennis in the driveway, practicing spelling words, which is the new High School Musical poster on the wall?, tears after a bad game, testing the newest cookie recipe, wearing handmade jewelry, and paging through scores of school sheets.

It’s time-consuming, it’s wonderful, it’s spontaneous, it’s sometimes maddening, it’s eye-opening, it’s stressful, and I hope for them to succeed in each endeavor they try.  It’s my job, and I love it and the things my children teach me.  I laugh with them, cry with them, cheer with them, scold them when they need it, and hug them even when they don’t. 

I will suffer through the rain-filled days, because I know tomorrow may be sunny. With maybe a surprise sparkling rainbow in-between. C