Voting age birthday

 Dear G,

I don't know why it is that your older sister's birthdays seem to come slowly, while yours come flying out of nowhere. I suspect it is because she flew solo for almost four years before you came along. Those days dragged on forever sometimes. Once you arrived, and then your brother two years later, life has been on full throttle for me. Time hasn't stopped or even slowed down much since you arrived. 

You've experienced a lot of changes in the past year.

You finished up junior year without issues, although I think this is mostly because the first two years of high school wore you the heck out in terms of drama, and you've decided school is just for learning. You have never been a "joiner," but you had made friendships. Once those seemed to be more trouble than they were worth, you decided to forego those. You get in, you get out, you relax at home. That is your school day.

I can't say I blame you. You are sensitive guy, like your dad, and that is a wonderful thing to be...but maybe primarily as an adult. I am sure it is horrible as a teenager. Most teenage boys are in the thick of machismo---beating their chests to prove they are guys to other guys. None of them have the emotional wherewithal to accept that whatever kind of guy they are is the guy they are, and they have nothing to prove to anyone. (I suspect I need to also relay this memo to a certain Secretary of Defense who seems to think that being a man means no feelings and macho-macho all the time.)

I digress. 

The upshot of avoiding drama is that you're on track to graduate a semester early. You got a job in July, despite all my worrying that it wouldn't happen, and have been working close to 30 hours a week as part of your co-op, plus keeping your grades up in your other classes. Dad and I are really impressed with you!

I'm proud of the way you pack your lunch the night before work and leave your work clothes on the table so you can grab them on your way out. You do an excellent job of staying on top of your responsibilities. And when I see you at work, I see you in a different light, not as your mom but as a customer, as a stranger. It is kind of fun to see you through that lens. I think, "What a handsome young man with a nice smile." 

Your job has given you topics of conversation including the gigantic apple you were amazed to show us and the workplace gossip that you share with us. 

You got your license after a few hiccups, but I think that was anxiety rather than not knowing what you're doing. Trust me, there are plenty of people on the road doing crazy shit, and you're not one of them. I'm proud of you for being careful. Now just watch out for the bozos. 

I enjoy our movie nights together and the conversations that come from those evenings. We've covered a lot of ground, from silent films for your film class to zombie flicks (28 Weeks Later) to war films (All Quiet on the Western Front) to mind-blowers like Tenet. 

I remember several years ago when you couldn't stand the idea of becoming a young man and fought it with everything in you, and now here you are,...a young man. You still have about six more years worth of prefrontal cortex develop on tap, but you have come such a long way from your days of tantrums and unmanageable anxiety. 

I don't know what the next few years will bring in terms of college and jobs and all that. I suspect I will go into them as I have since you were little: a little afraid of how you will do, wondering if it will overwhelm you. But in every situation, my worries were unfounded. I worried about kindergarten, and you did great. Then middle school. Then high school. This isn't to say that there weren't problems and unhappiness; those are part of life. But we managed them together, and we will continue to do that. 

You are a smart guy and, more importantly, you are sensitive and open to ideas. Sure, you still like to dig in your heels about change that you can't control but you are able to take a joke about it. Like when you say you want to move to Sweden as an adult, and I remind you that you hate the idea of me renovating the kitchen because it is too much change but sure...go ahead and change entire countries. 

You are one of a kind, G, and I'm so glad you're ours.

Love you,

Momma

Young and sweet, only 17

 Dear G,

This past week you turned 17.

I've said this before, but I have a harder time believing yours and M's milestones than I do N's. I'm not entirely sure why. I suspect it is because I had three and a half years with just her, when time moved so slowly. Once you and your brother came along, time started moving at lightspeed. 

Plus, N hit her adult size by middle school, while you and your brother continue the normal slow-grow of maleness, in which one week you are tiny, the next you tower above me, and within six months I need a small crane to give you a proper hug. (I have been the smallest  one in the family for awhile now, at least in terms of stature.)

So where is your life in this moment?

Well, you've had a bumpy and busy six months or so. 

You experienced an unpleasant falling out with some friends in the spring, which is good training since these things can and do happen no matter your age. You worked your first job this past summer, which provided you not only a paycheck but the experience of tedium which all jobs have at least some of the time. You took the permit test and have spent about seven hours behind the wheel, which I think has further cemented your desire to one day move to Europe and use their great public transportation system. 

You are taking eight classes this school year, including an AP, a dual-credit, and an online one, and you are very focused on school being for learning, not for socializing. You are your father's son, for sure. 

One thing that has surprised me is your desire to try some new clothing, which might not seem like a big deal but totally is. You come from at least two generations of persnickety clothes-wearers (me and your Nana), and while I will not be sad when I no longer have to be involved with your clothes purchases, I am proud of you for trying new styles and textures. 

We continue to have movie weekends, and it is fun to hear you pronounce virtually of them as being in your Top 10. Fortunately, we have raised you to be willing to laugh at yourself so when we poke fun of you for saying this, you are (mostly) willing to enjoy the joke. 

Even harder for me to believe is the reality that in less than a year you will be an official adult. I don't think either one of us is really prepared for that, but as I've learned, you move at your own pace in your own time. You have come such a long way since the days when you threw temper tantrums--I am thankful every day for the doctors, nurses, and therapists who have helped (and continue to help) you become comfortable in your own skin. 

You have always been sensitive and empathic, and while these are wonderful qualities, they can make it hard to live in this world.  I hope if you've internalized anything in these 17 years, it is that your dad and I love you so much and that we want to help you become the best version of yourself you can be. While the struggles you've experienced haven't always been about happy events and conversations, these have led us to understand you better, you to understand yourself better, and all of us to more firmly solidify our bond. 

Enjoy your new games and your key lime pie!

Momma

You made it to 16

Dear G,

You just recently turned 16, and I have to admit, I'm a little surprised. Given our struggles when you were younger, I wondered if I wouldn't throttle you long before you reached this milestone. Sometimes I am amazed that the person who towers over me now and has a pretty mature emotional outlook used to be the kid who couldn't control his feelings at all.

I'm not going to say I haven't learned anything from mothering your sister and brother, but being your mom has taught me the most (so far, anyway) because of your struggles. 

One thing I've learned from you is that kids are who they are and there is a lot of awesomeness to be proud of. You have always been a unique thinker, a sensitive person, and those are wonderful traits; we simply had to get your brain settled down enough so that those things could take center stage rather than anxiety. Unfortunately, anxiety feeds off anxiety, so your feelings set my feelings off, and that was never a great combination or experience for either of us. 

Being your mom has made me realize how critical it is to get as much help as soon as possible for kids who struggle so that their struggle doesn't have to become a lifetime one or one that cripples them. I'm thankful we had the resources to do that. I'm thankful we were open to the advice and help of professionals. Our only concern was helping you be happy and comfortable in who you are. 

You've gone through a lot of changes in the past year. You started high school and have done excellent in your classes; you adjusted like a champ. You had a girlfriend and experienced a breakup, which you also handled admirably. 

Because you've always had a very strong identity, I have sometimes felt like I knew exactly what you would do, but yet, as you get older, you increasingly surprise me. Like going to next week's event up in Indiana, which you originally said you didn't want to do (which didn't surprise me), and then changed your mind (which did).  I think it will be a fun experience for you, and I can't wait for you to tell us about it afterwards. 

I like to think that pushing you a little out of your comfort zone throughout your life has given you a sense that you can move out of it on your own even without our prodding. You did great on our family trip to Scotland and surprised me there, too, with loving haggis and climbing up to the Old Man of Storr, which I thought for sure you would complain about both. 

Another thing that has surprised me is your newfound desire to watch movies, which either you, me, and Dad or you and Dad have been doing at least once every weekend since June. It is so funny to see you discover films that we love (like Inception) or to hear you and your dad go on and on about Stanley Kubrick or space travel after watching 2001: A Space Odyssey. 

You have always been a bright, thoughtful, conscientious kid, but you are adding maturity to that which only makes you better. We are excited to watch you grow and change even more in the next 12 months. 

Love you,

Momma

The Foo, Smiths, Smashed Pumpkins, and a 15-year-old--birthday edition

Dear G,

Boy howdy! 

If I didn't know any better or hadn't witnessed the last couple years with my own eyes, I would think that a master race of aliens had visited our home and did a little switcheroo with the boy who used to live here. He has been replaced by a young man who is cool, able to laugh at himself, and better able to handle his emotions. 

Trying out your sister's boyfriend's sweet new ride. 

Today you are 15, an age that I might not have expected you to live to mostly because I thought I was gonna ring your neck with my bare hands many, many times during your earlier years. 

You love a Great Lake. 

Your fashion sense is...interesting.

You handsomed it up for 8th grade promotion in the spring. 

You started high school last month, and while your first days were not great, you have since gotten used to the flow, even being able to sleep on the bus going to school. You keep your earbuds at the ready and listen to a panoply of music that you are happy to share with me. You are, in fact, the official disc jockey of the car whenever we go anywhere. 

You've listened to the Foo Fighters, The Smiths, Radiohead, and are now on Smashing Pumpkins, and it is really great to know the sounds you like. Listening to it has helped me know you better as well as remind me of some really great music I'd forgotten. You are a blend of what I always called "whiny British music" that your dad always enjoyed and the grunge that I tended to lean towards. 

Your favorite class is Philosophy, and you're always telling me interesting things you learn there. Last week, you brought up the Trolley Problem and are now writing about the ethics of Mikhail Gorbachev. You have always been a deep thinker so it doesn't surprise me in the least that this is the class you most enjoy.

You continue to be a hard worker in school who doesn't procrastinate. You inherited many, many of my not-great qualities, but I admit I like that you don't put things off. (Ask your sister how crazy I make her because she tends to be less "in a hurry" than I am, and I have trouble controlling my anxiety. But I'm working on it.) I think you're like me in that you want your to-do list to be as short as possible or nonexistent.

Look at those lovely, expensive teeth. 

Since last year, you have gotten a girlfriend, and that has been a learning experience for both of us. You have tried more and different food in the last six months (which is annoying since you would NEVER try new foods when I asked). But you've also had some confusing and uncertain moments, and I'm so glad you talked to me about them. You are learning that relationships can be great, and they can be awful, and they can be confusing. 

I am incredibly proud of the young man you are and the one you will transform into during the next year. You have always followed the beat of your own drummer, from your long hair to your Steve Jobs-like commitment to wearing the same type of clothes day-in and day-out. That isn't always an easy road to walk, but you have never seemed to care what other people think (including me sometimes). That is admirable in a lot of ways and something it takes other people much longer to understand the freedom of. 

I'm glad you had a good celebration yesterday, and I hope the homework gods smile on you today and you aren't overwhelmed with work,

I love you,

Momma

Here's to all the first-day sucks

Normally, I do a first day of school photo, but not this year. 

This year I didn't care. 

Partly because my schedule this month is insane.

But mostly because I know this is a hard year for G since he started high school. Most people dislike change, but he REALLY dislikes change. And like his mother, his anxiety just becomes a horribly shitty mood. I'm old enough now to know that I need to shut the fuck up, but he is 14 and hasn't learned or instilled this habit in himself. 

G had a fairly horrible first day. Now, was it actually fairly horrible? Not sure. If 100 people had his first day, would they agree that it was horrible? I don't know that either. G is a bit of a drama queen and has a low frustration tolerance. 

But several things worked against him:

1--He dressed like he was going on a hike in Siberia when he lives in the South in August (despite his mother urging him NOT to dress this way).

Hoodie=check
Long pants=check
T-shirt under the hoodie=check

Plus a mask (since our area is in COVID red)

2--The bus was packed and it took a long time for all the buses to arrive.

3--Another kid threw up on the bus.

So G got a little motion sick and a lot hot and frustrated. (Although I told him his first day could have been worse because he could have actually puked on the bus like the other kid.)

And then he felt overwhelmed with the 7 classes and the new building and the syllabi and the "Here is what we're going to do this semester" which to G sounds like:

HERE IS WHAT WE EXPECT YOU TO KNOW RIGHT THIS SECOND AND YOU HAVE 10 PAPERS AND THEY ARE ALL DUE IN 2 WEEKS. 

During the school days I was wondering how he was doing, which caused me anxiety. And then after school, I had to listen to him complain and be out of sorts.

There is a saying that a mother is only as happy as her unhappiest child, which means my first three days weren't as stellar as they might have been. 

A teacher drama that has lasted all year

I think the vast majority of teachers do great work--they are dedicated and committed and possibly even a little bit crazy to put so much of themselves into their profession. 

(I say this as someone who, 18 years after leaving the classroom full-time, has not gotten to a point where I feel I can dedicate myself to it in any way, shape, or form the way I did before my children entered my life). 

And perhaps, like so many teachers, this particular teacher who is driving me nuts has just had a fucked up last two years, and his motivation has tanked. Who could blame him?

But for the sake of argument, let's assume I have a case for really not thinking this teacher knows what's up. 

The first time I emailed this teacher was on August 25 when both boys had him for related arts. This was approximately 10 days after school began and both boys had a slew of zeroes. 

I'm like, "How can they possibly be fucking up this badly this soon?

So I emailed the teacher to see what was going on. 

He replied that he had just entered asignments into IC. Unfortunately, he entered in zeroes for everything instead of just entering assignments (which you can totally do; you don't have to put a score at all to hold places for assignments. The kids' other teachers do it all the time without entering any score). 

The second time I emailed this teacher was in late September when M got COVID. 

M got a 25/50 on an assignment. Here is what I emailed the teacher:

I saw that M got a 25/50 on a resume assignment. Since he has COVID and had to quarantine 4 days last week (and won't be back until October 4), I wanted to ask what he misunderstood about the assignment. I looked at the instructions on Google Classroom and didn't see where it said he needed to do two resumes. 

The teacher said he had reviewed the requirements in class and that he could go over it again with M when he returned.

I had issues with this because 

1. M had missed 4 days of school that week and was going to be out for another week (at least) due to being positive for COVID. I didn't know what day the teacher went over this in class; if it was Tuesday-Friday, M wasn't there. Also, by the time M got back to school, this assignment was going to feel like ancient history.

2. The teacher said, ""I wrote a list out of requirements and told students to write something in each category, " but the teacher didn't post this on Google Classroom (or even take a picture of what he wrote on the board). This was early in the year when every kid was missing days for quarantining/contract tracing. I couldn't help but think that not only was M missing stuff; so was every kid who was out. 

October was quiet, but I emailed the teacher again in November when M was given a "C" for a final grade. 

My problem wasn't that he got a C; my problem was that his grades were an 83.33 and a 99.07 (for mastery and progression). There was no conceivable way those averaged together would end up as a C. 

When I emailed the teacher and asked him why M got a C, the teacher replied "You're right; M didn't deserve that." 

I didn't like this language. M should get what he earned. The teacher using that phrasing made me wonder if he was just handing out arbitrary grades. (This came after this teacher was suddenly gone from the school and didn't return until like 3 weeks ago. I assume some kind of internal investigation of some kind happened.)

And then G, whose grades were a 100% and a 99.07%, was given a B by this teacher. 

It was at this point that I emailed the counselors and said something along the lines of WTF?

Unfortunately, G was placed in this teacher's class again this grading period, even though he already took this related arts class earlier this year. He didn't like this teacher before because of all the grading stuff (and he just thinks the teacher is a jerk), and having him again is not a good thing.

G took a test in the class and didn't finish it. Because the test was on Google Forms, if you haven't answered all the required questions you can't submit it. G didn't submit it which was stupid, and he has been informed in a gentle way that it was stupid. When I asked G why he didn't tell the teacher that he wasn't finished, he said, "It wouldn't have mattered." 

Did I mention G thinks the teacher is a jerk and is really over being in this class?

(Having spoken with this teacher in person this week, I can attest that he totally threw shade on G. This is the first time ever that a teacher has thrown shade on G. I'm not saying it isn't deserved. What I'm saying is that G may take after his mother and not suffer bullshit without letting someone know that they don't have a lot of patience with it. G isn't an outright dick; he's just not being especially friendly.)

Then G was doing some online assignments and was scoring 50s and 70s on things. He says the teacher told students if they get a green check, they get a 100 percent. The teacher told me something different when I went in for a conference this week. I watched G do two of the modules to see if there is a quiz of some kind and shows them exactly what they scored on it. For these two modules at least, there was NOTHING of the kind. I have no idea why he got a ten points higher on one than the other, nor does he. 

It was already established in November that I couldn't trust this teacher, but I can't trust G because he has a jaded attitude. 

G has gotten "the lecture" that he has to do everything to the absolute best of his ability because if G screws up, the teacher can say it is G's fault. And based on my experience with this teacher this year, I'm not 100 percent sure that it is. 

The school choice SAGA continues AND can schools PUHLEASE think of better questions for admitting kids?

Item #1 on today's blog agenda is my comment that despite folks lamenting how much our district needs and wants kids to attend their "neighborhood schools," they lie.

They "say" they want neighborhood schools, and then they bend over backwards into something out of the Kama Sutra to get their kids into any school but their kids' neighborhood school. 

They say, "We want neighborhood schools!!!" 

They mean, "We want neighborhood schools.....except for my child."

These parents say crappy stuff about their neighborhood school whether they have stepped foot in said school. And some teachers, YES, teachers, contribute to this nonsense by telling students and parents that some schools are better than others. And some of those teachers I'm almost certain have never set foot in some of these schools that they denigrate. 

And then the kids believe all they hear so that they have ZERO desire to attend their neighborhood school which leaves parents who are totally ok with their kids attending their neighborhood school (ME) being forced into navigating applications and all the other shit that goes along with choosing high schools. 

The paper that one diploma from the "best" school is printed on in our district is EXACTLY the FUCKING SAME as the paper from the "worst" school. 

Yes, you have arrived at Carrie's blog, V2: My kid doesn't want to attend his resides school. 

His reasoning is this:

1--I don't want to attend my resides high school. (He doesn't know why, although I would say it has something to do with all the junk parents and their kids and sometimes teachers says.)

2--He wants to go where there is a computer program. (Ok, that I can understand.)

3--He wants to go where his friends are applying. (Same thing his sister did even thought she ended up not even having classes with any of those friends like all four years but whatever.)

Since I'm been through this rodeo, despite how much it bugs the shit out of me, I'm like, "I don't have the energy for this crap a second time. Apply where you want, but I'm not driving your ass anywhere."

Item #2 on today's blog agenda is why do the applications ask questions that are so heavily focused on the extroverted among the population? 

Like "Describe 3 groups or extracurriculars you have been involved in."

Which is bunk because 13 months of those three years of middle school were spent doing NTI when no one could be involved in ANYTHING. And do they want to hear about what he did when he took swimming lessons at the Y when he was two???

But also, my middle kid isn't interested in being super involved person. (He is very, very, very much like my husband who has zero interest in involvement with most of the human race.) 

He is never going to join spirit club (unless he is interested in someone romantically who bends his arm to go to spirit club.) He is never going to join a sports team (and for that I say, THANK YOU, JESUS!)

I have grown into my introversion; I didn't always use to be like this. For many, many years, I was a good-time girl (although not a drunk, orgy-involved good time girl.) I like to go out and do things. 

But I firmly believe since becoming medicated and going through therapy that my constant busyness was to quiet my mind. Keeping myself busy meant I didn't have to deal with my thoughts and my anxiety (and I think this is why a lot of people have glorified busyness...so they don't have to deal with what is going on inside themselves because it is painful and scary.)

Why can't these application questions ask things like:

"Do you think it is more important to be a leader or a follower or is there a need for both? Explain? (Because by god, we can't all be leaders. And sometimes leaders need to sit their asses down and let other people do things.)

Do you consider yourself a person who gets their energy from people or from being by yourself? Explain. (Because this asks kids to consider some pretty important self-reflection prior to high school.)

I don't know if Albert Einstein actually said this, but there is a quote attributed to him that I like, especially since he was Albert fucking Einstein. And who cares whether Albert liked to go out partying with friends? He had a brilliant mind and some of that came from taking the quiet time required to think. 

"Although I am a typical loner in my daily life, my awareness of belonging to the invisible community of those who strive for truth, beauty, and justice has prevented me from feelings of isolation.”

We have such a joiner, chatty, involved mindset that we don't even understand that our questions leave out entire segments of students who may have lots of insightful things to offer but we ignore that they could even be parts of the equation. 

Birthday (not a) boy (but edging closer to being a man)

Dear G,

Something happened in the last 18 months.

Yes--global pandemic, but I'm not referring to that.

Yes--social justice movement, but I'm not referring to that.

Yes--doofuses trying to overthrow the election, but I'm not talking about that. 

What I am referring to is that as you edged closer to 14, you grew taller than me, started wearing men's sizes in clothes , and are totally baritone (no longer squeak). Teachers who had you in sixth grade have been astounded that you walked into the building this school year as, like, a full-grown man. 

And that's not even the most amazing part.

It's that you have matured so much. 

I know teenagers get a lot of grief and people often say they don't like teenagers, but one of the best things about teenagers is that they can and do understand quiet reason and explanation. It used to be that if there was something you didn't like, you'd throw a complete duck fit.

Now, if you are upset, you go find a quiet spot and chill. And then once you're calm, we can discuss. And usually, you understand where I'm coming from and you explain yourself in a way so I know where you are coming from. 

Of course, you still grunt a lot. And you start every sentence with "Basically." And you talk about video games and TikTok videos that go completely over my head. And we're still working on getting you beyond mozzarella sticks as meals. 

I really worried about how you would do going back to school while the COVID pandemic rages on and even worse than last year due to the Delta variant. But you've done great. Sure, you aren't eating at school, but I can't blame you. I don't feel comfortable eating inside close to other people, and you maybe have 12 inches between you and a peer. And you've had a couple little blips with tying your shoes but after talking about it with you, I've seen you working to manage your anxiety. 

Now, not all is glory. I was about ready to murder you on Friday night when you were finishing up assignments that, at least for two of them, should have been finished on Thursday. Your pre-frontal cortex is only a little over halfway baked; only ten more years to go. BUT, to expect anything different would be to expect perfection. 

And while, as my son you have a glow of hazy perfection about you, you are not a perfect person and never will be. 

I love that you talk to me in ways that I'm not sure other boys talk to their moms. You don't tell me your deepest darkest fears, but you come to me with questions and you bring up things you think about or things you like which gives me greater insight into who you are. 

It has been fun to watch you move from an interest in Korean music to Russian music to Bob Marley music. Now, you are increasingly interested in cars and learning about them so I told you to go get a job at Valvoline when you turn 16. You recently had to write a resume for one of your classes, and it was interesting for me to see what you envision for yourself. (I was NOT surprised that you want to work at Dairy Queen; it is your favorite place to eat at the moment.)

If there is a worst part to having you be more firmly fixed in teenagerdom, it is that you rarely allow me to take your photo. 

I hope this year is as good as it can be for you given all the continued uncertainty with everything. Today you will get your favorite food (what Blizzard will you pick?). You will open a present or two. It will be chill because of M's COVID test last week; we will save celebrations with grandparents until M is fully vaccinated in a few weeks. 

I know you know that your dad and I love you. We would do anything for you (except hide you from the police if you are a murder suspect; I ain't doing that. You do stupid stuff, you deal with the consequences of your actions). 

We will always support you (again, except in that murder situation). But even if we didn't hide you, we will always love you and want what is best for you to become the kind, intelligent, young man you are. 

Love, 

Momma

Missing travel and Grumpy G

Our family will be going on a very low-key trip some two hours from our house this summer. It is all the logistics I can handle with only three of us fully COVID-vaccinated. 

As I was thinking about how much I really am looking forward to being away from home, it occurred to me how downright unpleasant many of our trips have been.

Not the entire trip, of course. 

But when you travel with kids, somebody is usually unhappy at least some of the time.

For us, our usually unhappy kid is the middle one. 

He is notorious for hating hiking (which D and I have always enjoyed). When I say hiking, I mean low-key hiking. We're not backpacking. We're not hiking tons of miles. 

Really, we just walk in the woods a little bit. 

I went down a bit of a rabbit hole to find as many photos as I could of G being grumpy on trips. One day these will be collected into a book for him. 

In this first pic, you would think we had drug the kids out all day at Disney. Nope. We have long been the kind of parents that religiously made our kids nap even when it interfered with whatever good time we were having. This was early in the day. G just wasn't having it. 

Here we were during a stop at a botanical garden on the way to somewhere. The evil-looking kid in the center is G. He seems unhappy. 

Mostly G is known for his "lying down in disgust" pose. 

He's done it in Michigan. 

And Kentucky. 

And Colorado.

And at Kennesaw National Battleground in Georgia. 

And those aren't the only such photos I have. 

I'm pretty sure we might get a new one on this summer's excursion. 

A reason I'm not sending my kid back to IRL school now (that hadn't occurred to me until recently)

Every parent is having to make decisions right now that both they and their kids can live with regarding in-person school. 

I made the decision to not send my kids back to school for the remainder of this school year.

At its most basic, this decision is about the virus.  

But the decision is about a lot more than the virus, and it took me a little while to see this. 

My basic argument in my head was that all this seemed like an awful lot of work and struggle (especially for teachers and staff) for what will ultimately amount to 12 days of in-person school per child (due to the hybrid scheduling). 

In "normal circumstances," the first six weeks of school in August are aimed at establishing routines (that is 30 days of consistent 5-day-a-week school). To me, starting IRL school in mid-April (after Spring Break when everyone is mentally done with school anyway) seemed like an effort in futility. 

But it dawned on me (finally) that my feelings about this futility had a lot to do with what the virus did to all the work G had done pre-pandemic (starting in November 2019) to manage his OCD. 

He had been going to therapy once a week. 

He was dealing with his uniform and his shoes.

He was going to school ok and managing his anxieties.

And then COVID hit. 

No IRL school; no uniforms; no shoes; nothing normal.

No being around unknown people and having to manage his anxiety in the face of them. 

So a lot of those things that set off his OCD haven't been there for a year. 

Which is EXACTLY the wrong thing when you're doing exposure therapy. The goal is to EXPOSE yourself to the things that cause anxiety. COVID made exposure not happen. 

(If I was a better person, I would have forced him to wear his uniform and put on his shoes, but given all the pandemic and all my dad's stuff and all the STUFF, I didn't have the mental energy to fight with my child constantly.)

And part of the therapy is the consistent practice of managing your anxiety in the face of exposure. Consistent being the operative word. 

To send G back to school now for two days a week in a hybrid schedule means to force him to deal with all of his OCD issues for six weeks inconsistently and then have a huge summer break (again, no consistent practice). 

It means to send him back to deal with all his old OCD issues and all the new anxiety issues from the virus. 

Prior to COVID, G would experience anxiety seeing his classmates and peers act out in school and not do what they were asked to do by teachers. How will he handle seeing this happen with mask-wearing or social distancing? 

Last year, he rode the bus home. How will he handle that, being in obviously close quarters with other kids who may remove their masks and hide behind the seat? 

G could barely manage the uncomfortable feeling of his uniform so I'm not sure he could manage 7+ hours of mask-wearing.

I know there are lots of kids who need to go back and have some semblance of whatever they describe as normal. But there are, I suspect, an awful lot of kids for whom going to school before COVID was an emotional labor that they maybe aren't super keen to return to especially because all the COVID protocols will heighten their anxiety even more. 

My kid is one of those. 

OCD itself is tantamount to rolling a stone up the hill to only have it roll back over and over and over again. It is a labor at all times, and I really do not have the desire to intentionally make ourselves Sisyphean in April of the nearly over school year. 

He's mostly unclean, and now he's 13

 Dear G,

You are now in the greasy stage of your life. 

Thirteen years ago, you were in what I call the "wormy" stage of life when you just wiggled and slept and didn't do anything to make me think you were a vertebrate. 

You were a worm, but a cute and chubby one. 

Anyway, now at 13 (officially) your hair is literally so greasy that I refuse to hug you some days until or unless you take a bath and wash it. 

You are approximately 2 inches shorter than me now when barefooted and you are rock solid. I know this because when you sometimes come downstairs in the morning and sit on my lap, it is like a gigantic boulder of butt muscle has planted itself on my thighs.  I know this will only get worse the bigger and taller you get. 

But it will one day make for some hilarious photo recreations. 

You are more and more a young man. (With nice hair, I must say.)

Last week you got braces, which you wanted to go ahead and get done because as you said, "7th grade sucks anyway."

The older you get, the more like your dad you become.

Like the pandemic and online school has totally been NBD for you. You and your dad are both like, "What? Talk to people? Like....in real life?" Staying at home and playing video games is what you were born to do. 

The pandemic did put a huge kink in all the work you had done with your OCD therapy, but you are doing ok. The two of us went out to buy you new shoes last weekend and we finished in 30 minutes. And neither of us yelled or came out bloody. It was a miracle!

You also got new shorts and shirts (size men's small) this summer and have worn them without incident.

Sometimes you are a giant pain in the butt, but we realized at some point that without you in the family, we would have like zero memorable stories from vacations and stuff.

If it wasn't for you getting your hand stuck in the lobster statue in Edisto Island, we might not even remember that trip, for example.

If you hadn't thrown yourself dramatically on large rocks in the Rocky Mountains because we made you hike and you were overwhelmed (and also a drama queen), we'd have no hilarious pictures to look at now.  

And this summer you were the only one to catch a big-ass fish when we had our family vacation!

You have always, always forged your own unique path, which has been a lot of a headache and also funny, but usually only when we're past it. 

Except for this which always was and always will be hilarious. 

(Gangnam Style, yo)

Being your mom has made me learn a lot about patience and anxiety and the need to be chill since together we are both very low on chill. 

Being your mom has helped me be a better person, I think. 

I'm so proud of the young man you are becoming, and I hope I can guide you to be genuinely yourself in a world that likes to pigeonhole people. 

I love you, weirdo.

Momma

That annoying middle child made me proud

Yesterday was kind of a banner day for G, and he doesn't often have banner days.

He woke me up before 7:00 am, fully dressed in nice-for-him clothes (khaki pants and a collared shirt), telling me he had already practiced his speech for the regional science fair. He even wore a long-sleeved shirt under his collared shirt which, had I asked him to do this, would have been sensory hell for him.

He had been working for weeks on wearing these pants and getting used to them so he could attend the science fair dressed appropriately.

Even though I offered him his Ipad to play with while he waited to be judged, he turned it down.

He found friends to have lunch with and left his mom alone (which made mom really happy).

I was super proud of him...not because he got some special award or won anything at all...but because he showed responsibility, didn't complain, and took being in an unfamiliar setting with unfamiliar people in stride.

OCD treatment, Part 1

Along with my medication, I have found motherhood to be a pretty good way for me to deal with my OCD and its incessant desire to have certainty.

There is nothing certain about motherhood, which is why I nearly lost my mind 15 years ago.
You can do everything "right" and your kid is still a mess or gets sick or is an asshole.
Also, what is "right" when it comes to parenting a kid?
Who knows.
There are no guaranteed "rights" or "wrongs."
What I do that is "right" for my oldest is a definite "wrong" for my middle or youngest.
Or vice versa.

I have become much more comfortable with the certainty that I cannot control my kids or their outcomes.
The only certainty I have is that it is all uncertain.
I have to be ok with doing what was in my power to do, even if it is not everything and even if it doesn't work.
I have to be ok with saying "I tried."

I keep reminding myself of this as G and I work on his OCD treatment.

This past week was the first in which G had homework for his OCD, and it has been a doozy.
If G defined this homework, he would probably call it torture:
He had to wear pants for 2 hours every day and tie his shoes "the standard way" and wear them 2 hours every day. (The "standard way" is the bunny knot, possibly a double knot; not his convoluted tucked and rolled travesty of shoe-tying.)

He (and I) tried every day.
Some days he could wear shoes for 2 hours and some days he could wear pants for 2 hours, but he could only tolerate uniform pants for 20 minutes tops.
And he struggled with doing both at the same time.

For someone who does not have OCD, this all sounds absurd.
"Put on pants and move on with your day!"
But there are people for whom throwing on a pair of pants is like....an ordeal.

The whole not wearing pants thing and only wanting to wear one pair of shorts is a relatively new phenomenon; last spring and summer he wore whatever.
I think middle school had something to do with it--the uniforms, the new place, the weirdness of middle school boys in the bathroom, having to change clothes for physical education class.

Some of it is his changing body.
He is in that awkward stage where it is hard to find clothes that fit.

Unfortunately, in dealing with OCD, we are making it very unhappy, which means G has been having bursts of anger and irritability.
No one likes feeling anxious, which is why the compulsions begin....to make the anxious feelings go away.
But they don't go away for long, which means the compulsions get worse and more involved.

At the moment, we're pissing G's OCD off royally.

Seeking additional treatment for OCD

I have sometimes thought that G's OCD may require me to seek additional treatment for my own OCD.

I can feel my own internal anxious discomfort increasing when he does his compulsions.

After watching him straighten and fix something repeatedly, I have to fight the urge within myself to start fixing things in the same room (albeit things he wasn't fixing).

Partly, I stop myself from fixing the armchair covers when he fixes the couch cushions because of the mental picture of the two of us in my head. It just seems absurd...us OCDing in circles around each other.

I also have to say to myself, "Fixing stuff is not going to restore order into your life or his. You just have to feel the discomfort and deal."

G has been on medication for his OCD since he was 6-years-old.
While his dose has increased over time a bit, I'm not 100 percent convinced that his dose shouldn't be increased even more, but his psychiatrist has seemed hesitant to up it.
I like his psychiatrist, but I got the feeling that since G's grades are ok, everything is ok.
As if grades are all that matters.
But G's issues have never affected school, really.
While this may not always be the case, G has always struggled more with functioning at home.

School provides more routine and structure than what life outside of school provides, which might be one reason why I always loved school.
The whole reason I wanted to be a teacher is that I liked the idea of organized chaos---there was a bit of unknown but there was a whole lot of the same old stuff happening.
I sometimes wonder if the same isn't true for G.

My feeling that we were missing something that we could be doing for G led me to discover that there is a clinic locally that deals with nothing but OCD.
I took G for a consultation after he asked again when he could see the psychiatrist because his symptoms (like rewriting his "rs" and "ns" on his schoolwork) were driving him crazy.

Today, he did the first part of the assessment to determine his OCD subtype, and he will soon begin exposure response prevention therapy.
It is hella expensive, but I'm hoping that seeking treatment at a place that does nothing but OCD will help him (and us) find more peace.

("The Types of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder," Owen Kelly. https://www.verywellmind.com/what-are-the-different-types-of-ocd-2510663)

If I develop a drinking problem, it's my middle child's fault

In my 15 years of mothering, I've gotten pretty good at feeling like I sorta know what I'm doing.
The kids have survived all these years, right?

But I have decided that getting my middle child through middle school is going to result in me developing a serious drinking problem.
I can't even begin to think what a nightmare getting through high school will be.
I think at some point, I will move into an apartment and leave my husband and G to their own devices, figuring out how to fix dinner together.
That's assuming the stress of raising this kid to near adulthood doesn't actually kill me.

I love my son, but he is an ass.
Some of his assness is because he is 12.
Some of his assness is because he has OCD/anxiety and takes his frustrations with these out on the people he knows will love him no matter what.
Some of his assness is simply his personality.
He is the trifecta of assness.

Tonight he did one question in an ELA packet.
One question took one hour, mostly because he was being an ass.

He wants to mansplain how to write open-response answers with text evidence like I have no freaking clue what I'm doing.
Like I haven't read and annotated this book--which I have.
Like I haven't taught this book to middle schoolers--which I have.

He asks for my help and then argues with me while I'm trying to help him.

It's like all the stuff I learned about parenting my daughter doesn't actually count because she and G could not be more different.
I didn't worry about her getting through middle school.
I didn't become one of "those moms" that get notifications from the grading portal all the time.
I didn't have to go to conferences on non-conference days to figure out why the actual heck my male child cannot seem to get his paper turned in when the kid doesn't even use his locker.

I am now all of those things, and I hate it. 

Well, bust my spleen; you're a total preteen

Dear G,

This 12th birthday was a non-event.
You were feeling puny as a result of your flu shot on Tuesday.
I have been thick in the dress code drama that began on Saturday at your sister's school, plus she had three games this week.

On Friday night, however, you had rallied, so Mamaw came over, and we celebrated in a low-key fashion.
We ate the "12" cookies I had picked up.
You opened cards from your grandparents and the gift from me and Daddy.
We watched the N, G, and M show and found our favorite videos of you being cute when you were a wee one.

I don't tell you nearly often enough how proud I am of you.
You have always followed the beat of your own drum.
Some of that drumming has been the result of your OCD, and that hasn't always been easy.
Some of that drumming is your own unique personality that you share with others without too much thought to their opinion of it.
It took me many years to get to the point where I didn't worry about what people thought of me, so I admire you for being that way at such a young age.

I worried (and still worry) about how you are adapting to middle school, but you seem to be doing fine.
You aren't complaining about the uniform.
Your grades so far are good.
You have friends.
You have adjusted so much better than I expected.
I'm not too surprised, though.
I worried about you entering preschool and elementary, and you did fine in both those places.
I can't understand where you got all your anxiety from.
Har-har.

As you get older, I enjoy you more and more (although those cute videos of you when you were a toddler, preschooler and young elementary school child make me long for those days a bit).

With all the dress code stuff, you told me, "You're a Karen, but a good one."
You make us all laugh on the regular.
Here are some of your recents:

--When you talked to N about being nervous to start middle school, you told her you were worried about getting lost in "hidden corridors," which I thought was pretty funny since you aren't going to Hogwarts.

--When Slips got into a Calvin Klein bag, you said she got into a Calvin "Clean" bag.

--Daddy was going through a phase of watching Babylon 5. You called it "Baby Lon 5."

And you remain the king of misheard lyrics, although your brother is catching up with you.

I hope this year is a good one for you, a year that sees you develop and mature.
A year that you discover new skills and talents you have.
A year you continue to be compassionate to others.

We love you bunches and bunches,

Momma

Anxious mom sending her anxious child to middle school

Here is what rational brain keeps saying:

You worried about how he'd do in preschool, and he did great.
You worried about how he'd do in elementary school, and he did great.
You are probably worrying about how he'll do in middle school, and he'll probably do great.

Irrational brain, however, is over here beating this drum:

He's going to be miserable. His OCD will go off-the-chain. He is going to start failing classes. It is going to be an even bigger vat of suck than what middle school already is. 

I think part of the reason I haven't been crazy gung-ho for school to start is because of G starting middle school and just not knowing what this is going to mean for him, for me, and for our family.
This year I have been happy to live in a little bubble of avoidance.

G's modus operandi has always been to do great at school, to hold it together there, and then lose his freaking mind at home. Become tantrumy and belligerent.
This is not unusual for kids with anxiety.

He had gotten to a point where this wasn't happening other than a rare episode.
I don't want to start this again, even though I know we have a physician in place now to help us.

So with this school year, I'm not over-the-top exuberant to have my house to myself again because even though I have been able to clean with the peace of knowing that it will stay clean until approximately 2:45, I'm an anxious pile of goo at the prospect of how G is, how he's feeling, and how he will react or decompress when he gets home. 

I'm raising Eric Cartman

Sometimes, in the midst of having one child come crying over suckers, you get a chuckle out of another child.

It's not a "legitimately funny haha" chuckle.
More of a "Jesus....(insert eye roll)" chuckle that comes from knowing your child's personality quirks and finding something funny to make these quirks tolerable.

G and M went to a neighbor friend's house with another boy, and they all (evidently) decided to play basketball.

Now, my boys are not athletic in the least, although M could be athletic.
G is an amalgam of all the two-left-footed people in our genealogical history combined into one human.

So when the four boys agreed to play basketball (inside), G thought it was supreme unfairness for him to have to play against either of the other boys who aren't his brother because he knows he sucks. He also knows his brother has a malleable personality. G could tell M, "Let me make this shot," and M would stand back and let him have the shot.

I texted the boys to come home for dinner and M texted back,
"G is coming home because X and Y don't agree with him on basketball."

And the first thing that popped into my head was this:

I shared a shorter version with the boys.

M replied, "Well, yeah."

We love our G, but we also know what we're dealing with.

We've got all the misheard lyrics

My kids probably have some talents, but the one I appreciate most is their ability to totally botch song lyrics.

I keep a journal for each kid of cute/funny things they've said or done over the years, dating back to birth, and I think 90 percent of the entries in the past five years are misheard and mis-sung lyrics.

The king of the mis-sung lyrics is G.

He is heavy right now into Queen, which has produced this:

Rushot!
Pushing down on me,
Pushing down on you,
I said don't stop.

We won't even discuss what Rushot is.
At first, we thought he was singing Russia, which might have actually made sense.
And I guess if you don't know what Rushot is (and we don't) you might actually want it pushing down on you and say "don't stop" when someone is pushing it on you.

G's misheard lyrics dates back many years.

A few years ago, before Papaw died, we visited his sisters in the country.
When we stopped for lunch, we heard Beyonce's All the Single Ladies.
Later, when we returned to the car, G started singing, "I'm a cigarette. I'm a cigarette."

As G gets into more and more music, I'm certain I'll have many more entries into his book.
Music lyrics and their bastardizations have become a bit of a tradition and source of wonderful memories for our family. 

Teachable moment from the blog (gender & hair)

G told us yesterday that this week an organization came to his school and separated activities into boys/girls. When he walked by someone to take his card for where he was supposed to go, the person handing it to him said, "Here you go, young lady."

G said he just kept walking with his head down.
He didn't correct the person.
He said it really didn't embarrass him (either he is so used to it that it doesn't bother him anymore or we are helping him be a well-adjusted person who has a positive self-image--I vote for a little of both).

D and I encouraged him to speak up in the future, to say politely and calmly,
"I am a boy with long hair."

We told him that by doing so, he will gently bring people's attention to their lack of observation and their gender tagging.
We told him that by doing so, he will be helping other kids, be they boys with long hair or girls with short hair, who may feel VERY embarrassed when similar things happen to them.

G said to me, "I'm really glad you wrote that blog, mom."

I don't often feel like I'm winning as a mom, until moments like this when I do.