Mom used to get so frustrated with us kids that she would scream. The she’d break down in tears. It was like everything inside her finally came out. Her face twisted up. She held her arms away from her, her hands balled up, and she hunched slightly like a bodybuilder showing his biceps. That’s when she screamed, more to get noise out of her than to quell whatever it was she was upset at. Finally, the tears came, hands flew up to the roots of her hair and she’d say something like, “I can’t stand it anymore!”
In my memory, it seems almost a physical depiction of Giving Up. Like her whole self had to go through a release. A welling up, explosion, then wilting.
Sometimes she was mad about something we did, although her meltdowns never seemed tied entirely to an event. I don’t recall any of us ever coming home late to Mom sitting by the doorway. I don’t recall her walking in while we were having a party or her catching us smoking a joint in the bathroom. Rather, it was the little things that chipped away.
She found a bong in the bedroom. She didn’t like my boyfriend. She was a grandmother at age 40.
Life was anxiety-producing. We kids spanned 13 years. My oldest sister was pregnant, married and out of the house; my other sister was away at college; my third sister a teen; my brother in middle school; I was in elementary school. (In hindsight, the little things weren’t so little.)
I remember when I was pregnant with Dee, I got the book What to Expect When You’re Expecting. Every night I read and re-read the sections that covered the particular number of weeks I was into my pregnancy. I also read ahead. Then when I got to that phase, I read and re-read that section.
I eventually got to the point where I put away the book. At seven months into my pregnancy, I even stopped going to see the doctor. I’d decided to birth my baby at home, and the midwife I’d picked out — the only one who did home births — was going away on a retreat for six weeks. She’d be back by my ninth month, just in time to work with me before the baby came.
I don’t know what snapped to cause me to transform from someone bewildered by pregnancy to someone with complete faith that I could birth my own baby. Maybe it was the sense that all the books in the world weren’t going to prepare me. Or maybe it was Jim and my last childbirthing class where we watched a film comparing US and European births. The US father was dressed in scrubs from head to toe, his wife laid out on what looked on an operating table under a stark light. The European couple was in a birthing center that resembled a lovely home. In the car that night, Jim and I both blurted, “The hospital birth looked scary!”
The point is, I finally figured out that I wasn’t going to figure it out. I just had to go with the flow. And once I went with the flow, I became calm. I knew what to do. I started to take responsibility for my pregnancy, and I prepared the best way I could, mentally and physically. When the day came, with Jim and my midwife by my side, I birthed Dee. In my bedroom. By myself.
What this has to do with Mom and her breakdowns is, I’m feeling a lot like what I imagined she used to feel right before she blew. And a lot less like I felt when I gave birth.
Earlier today I went to see Dee’s volleyball game. It went three rounds; they lost the last round by two points. It was close. Dee didn’t play well. Her serve was inconsistent, and her other hits were not solid either. All in all, it was a going-backwards for her. She started stronger four or five games ago, yet today’s game was her worst. I watched from the bleachers. She wasn’t the only one who wasn’t good. But a few of the other players had gotten great. The gap between them widened. It was hard to watch.
This is our first experience with team sports. Dee did rodeo the past two years. Rodeo is all about the girl and her horse. Dee’s horse is good. You can tell by looking at him. He’s honest, and he wants to perform for her. He does whatever she says. He senses when she’s ready, and every time he’s gone faster, she’s been ready. Watching her do rodeo was a thrill. She always improved in rodeo. Her barrel time got shorter, her finesse with the flags finer. She became competent before my eyes. I was in awe. Truthfully, I was in awe.
In the car home this evening, I asked her how the game felt. She shrugged. “Mmm,” she said.
“You guys did better,” I told her. “Mmm,” again.
“You were the captain this game, right?,” I tried. “Yeah,” she said, “one of them.”
“Well, that’s great, that means you guys led your team to an almost victory, which is way better than the past three games.”
She was silent most the rest of the way. When we were almost home she told me one of the girls who’s gotten great told her earlier in the day that Dee shouldn’t play volleyball. That same girl also told Dee after the game that they lost on account of Dee.
I tried to tell Dee from that girl’s perspective, Dee and the other players who weren’t strong were the reason the team lost. Dee missed the second-to-the-last point. She had a bad game. I didn’t want to gloss over the fact that Dee hadn’t supported the team the way the best players did. I wanted to point out that team sports are different from individual sports that way. That team sports are about two things: your game, and the team’s game. I didn’t blame. But I didn’t say that the girl who blamed was bad. Only that that’s how things are when you play in a team. It’s life.
Honestly, I don’t think I did so well. Honestly, I’m at that stage of wanting a book to tell me what to do. And, while I’m being honest, I have to say I don’t want to go to the next game. If Dee keeps getting worse while the other girls get better, it’s going to get harder for Dee.
I know I need to let go. I let Jim practice with her tonight. She came in after about twenty minutes saying she learned to serve. I wanted her to show me, but I also didn’t. I’m at that place where I need to snap. Just like I did at seven months pregnant. I need to believe that she can do what she needs to do, and whatever happens she’ll be fine. I need to trust that Jim can be her father and help her. And that I’m going to be fine, too.
A part of me wants to do the Mom meltdown thing. The other part of me wants to rely on my own self for the journey. Then there’s the voice saying, “IT’S JUST VOLLEYBALL, FOR GOD’S SAKE!” Even so, I don’t know what Giving Up looks like for me right now.
I’d be interested to see a sketch from ya, ‘bonesy. Both of what Mom looked like doing the bodybuilder pose (tho’ your words paint a vivid picture), and a picture of what ‘the flow’ might look like or feel like. Thanks for sharing the story; it’s truly not an easy road, raising kids, especially when we want to do things differently from how we were raised. What would the girls do if you re-enacted Mom’s Giving Up? What would Jim do? What would the turklets do?
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Personally, I hate team sports. Was always the last chosen. Dreaded every game. Was eventually given the honor of “scorekeeper.” I was a great runner though. For many years, just competed against myself, so I always won. I sent my kids to a non-sports high school, though to my surprise, my oldest son was an Ultimate Frisbee Champ. But their emphasis was on the fun of the game. Personally, I think it was not in the vein of “team spirit” for that girl to blame Dee for losing. If it’s a team and everyone is doing their best, it is wrong to pick out one player to blame. That’s anti-team spirit. That girl was just being what we have all experienced, a Mean Girl. That Dee has the courage to still play and try her best after that is amazing. She is much braver than that smart-ass will ever be. Hooray for Dee! But there’s no reason you have to watch it. Send the parent who is least emotionally involved with the whole thing. No sin in that. It’s called good, strategic parenting. Hope I didn’t overstep boundaries with my opinion.
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For what it might be worth…
There is no parenting manual. No one can possibly tell you, nor convince you, what it will be like.
I always took solace in the fact that my kid had never had a parent before, and really didn’t know if I knew what I was doing…
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While reading this I wanted to tell you that all good parents examine their interactions with their kids and question their parenting skills. It is one of the things that keeps us being good parents. Then I looked at the title and thought I may have missed the point.
“Giving It Up To The Pen”
What an interesting concept to use the pen to placate those emotions and doubts you have as a parent. Breaking the chain we make while watching how our parents dealt with stress by finding something more suited to our own philosophy on life.
Giving it up to the pen – what a great way to sum it up!
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Thanks for the comments on this everyone. They’ve made me smile and feel better. That’s worth a lot!
skywire: yes, I tried on the plane to Phx today to do that doodle. I forgot my pencil, so I haven’t finished it. Looks like a man, not Mom!
tiv: I don’t mind your opinion at all. It’s sound. It’s solid. Thanks.
leslie: I’ll remember that. You should write a book on that premise!
R3: thanks, and I’m so glad you got that point. That’s exactly what I meant. My titles are often strange and not clear enough. Yeah that this one landed.
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I think parenting is a learn as you go lesson. None of us can learn from anothers experience. You just have to go with the flow and try to do your best. You can’t beat yourself up. Always encourge your children and support them no matter how bad they do. They are doing their best and will try harder if they know you are proud of them no matter what the outcome. Everyone has their limitations and shouldn’t be expected to excel in everything. We just have to find our own nitche and do our best there.
Two many parents expect their children to fulfill their dreams and don’t let them have their own. There are many ways to let go and none of them are easy! I always hated when a coach would play the best in a game and others would have to sit out. How did he expect anyone to get good. First of all the team has to learn how to be a team and let each play their position that works for them.
Of course it’s great to win but it’s just as important to learn that life has it’s ups and downs, you have to learn how to deal with all of it. You have to work your way up and when you fall , pick yourself back up and keep going.
I know I have failed in many things, some with my children and a lot in life. But I can’t change what has been but I can learn and try to do better with what time I have left. I think we would all change things in our past if we could.
Give your children lots of HUGS and I LOVE YOU’S and life will be good no matter how bad it is. Your partner’s in life ,too.!!!!!!!
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YB
JUst because your MOM didn’t walk in on you or wait up , don’t think she wasn’t aware of what was happening. I may have been sound asleep but I would hear when my children came home. I knew when they were doing pot or drinking or making out. I rarely confronted them but they knew how I felt about what was going on and they had to deal with that ,whether I said anything or not.
When they were real young it seemed I was always confronting one or the other for something. And when they were older there were a lot of times I wish I had done things different. Or could have done things different, sometimes we don’t have a choice.. Now that they are grown , I’m very proud of the way they have turned out. They look back an remember. Now they are learning about dealing with life and children and making their own mistakes as we all have to do.
You and Dee will do great! JUst support her no matter what, as you are doing.!
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It’s always an interesting moment when you recognize yourself doing or almost doing something that your parent did when you were young. I remember my mother completely losing it when I, once again, didn’t clean my room. And I remember me almost losing it when my toddler again broke something that I valued. Parenting calmly is so important, and sometimes so bloody difficult!
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The good thing about this coach, Amelia, is she’s playing all the kids. Which is probably why the team isn’t winning. And that’s creating some tension, but it’s the right thing to do.
I think one of the things that’s happening to me now is the in-my-face-and-heart dawning that Mom wasn’t weak. We drove her crazy! And yeah, she’s in me. And Dad, too, who was calm but had his quirks. But, in the words of Popeye, I yam what I yam. (In my words…I yam toe jam!) 🙂
My next post is going to be on personal hygiene, because the other byproduct of parenting besides angst is losing one’s capacity for grooming oneself : – ).
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pmosusse
Boy did your comment bring back memories. When I tried to get my children to clean their rooms. There were times when I really lost it. It could be very frustrating. It was very hard for the boys( four in a room and different ages). The girls had it easier being 7 yrs. apart, one was away most of the time , when it became time for the youngest to clean her room.
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I have a child who played competetive soccer and also started out without alot of confidence and I have to tell you that the sport, itself was what made her gain her confidence. I like that this coach is playing all of the girls because that is what creates team spirit, cooperation and confidence in each of these young ladies. The more they play together, the better they get….you’re always going to have one of these smart aleck kids that put the blame on someone else, but wait till her turn comes…and believe me, it will..I think the fact that Dee continues to practice and continues to want to play will be the factor that makes her become a better player. Go to the games to support her…I was there..I didn’t want to see my child hurt, but that little girl that began with no confidence and was not that great a player eventually became a 1st team All-District player and a 1st team all State player in her senior year of high school in soccer. Hang in there!!!!
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You know, it’s true we have to learn these lessons for ourselves (me as a mother, Dee as a child who’s becoming an adolescent), yet it helps to hear what others have gone through. Thanks.
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On a lighter note –
There was always those things your parent swould say that you swore you would never say to your kids and then one day it comes out of your mouth and you choke trying to push it back in. Mine was “shut up or I will give you something to cry about”, this made no sense to me because I already thought I had a legitimate thing to cry about.
I decided early on that I needed my own tag line for my kids to cringe about and for the longest time I thought I had it in “Life isn’t fair, get used to it!” Until one day my 5 year old son used it on me and I realized that I needed to find another. I am still searching but I am sure that some day I will take the time to ask my kids to see how I faired.
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The first thing that popped to mind is what my nephew says, which is like a version of how we used to say, “yo mama.” Hey says, “your mother,” or “your mother is why.”
You could say “your daddy,” or “your father.” Like, say your child says, Why do I always have to do my homework! You say, your daddy is why you always have to do your homework. Or, your daughter says, You’re ruining my life!, you say, “your daddy.” Give it a try. (hee hee)
Hey skywire, when I have a Mom meltdown, the turklets gobble, Jim becomes the mother hen, and the girls hover. It’s not a pretty scene, which is why I’m trying to figure some other move ; – ).
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I had a T-shirt that said, …”I’m the Mommy, that’s why…”
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