Thoughts at 8 Years: The Struggle is Real...ly Worth It

I saw a shirt recently that read "I survive on caffeine and chaos".  Life is normally a mix of chaos and calm.  When you have children, chaos tends to tip the scale.  My life is no different.  I have one teenager.  The female child is a complex one. Raising her is probably the hardest thing I have had to do.  We are alike in a lot of ways, some good, some not so good.  She has concerns I did not have as a teenager.

She has Dyslexia and ADHD.  She's smart and scattered as a good book I once read regarding teenagers and ADHD suggests.  She's creative and disorganized.  She stuffs brilliant work into the back of her binder past the due date.  Her art desk looks like a tornado hit it; but the pictures are beautiful.  It would drive her father up a wall if he were here.  But he's not.  And this year, for her, he has now been gone longer than he was here.

The relationship with her brother?  His love and loyalty for her I believe is limitless.  He can be upset with her; but he will try to protect her if he thinks I might be too harsh.  She doesn't quite realize how powerful she can be in his eyes; but she loves him immensely.  Every so often she will admit he is her best friend.  She has an artsy, quirky personality.  She's pulled her brother and me into her world.  We listen to her music when she isn't here.  My son is just as likely to ask Alexa to play "What About Us" by Pink as he is to ask Alexa for the PJ Masks theme song.

Music and Art provides a sanctuary for her in this world.  It's a struggle I know.  School isn't really set up for kids like her.  She wonders why she can't just take her English, Art, Math and Music classes.  She tolerates World History because the beauty of these other countries speaks to the artist in her.  She'd never take another Science class if she would get away with it.  One of my greatest challenges is somehow getting it across how important these annoying little assignments are.  I often think, "Oh the Places You'll Go," as Dr. Seuss said.  How do I get you to the right path?  I ask myself that question more than one time a day.

The right Art Classes, I'm ready.   Choir practice, okay.  Read that book, I'm on it.  A bit of volleyball on the side, that's cool.  She is also super competitive.  Assistive Technology so you can get that essay done...how does it work again?  Study for that Biology test.  It's mom again.  If I nod in agreement then lean back in the chair, put my headphones on and close my eyes, maybe she'll go away.  Her father did the same thing when he wanted me to be quiet.  I wonder if she fully understands how much I love her.  She may not until she is on this side.

I also have an 8 year-old.  The male child is my Science kid.  Daily I narrowly avoid injuring myself stepping on a Lego or stumbling over some new invention.   He creates entire battlefields in almost every room in the house.  It would drive his father up a wall if he were here.  But he's not.

When he locked in and building, he is also creating stories and adventures.  Writing that story down on paper...I might hear, I don't want to as he streaks out of the room like a track star.  He's also Dyslexic with ADHD.  He's a determined little boy.  Despite it all he has worked to become a strong reader.  He does time and a half with school because multiple days a week, he sits through lessons I have reconstructed to cater to him.  I have so much material I'm getting stuff in the mail offering me an educator discount on materials.  But I get the privilege of seeing him learn new things, grasp new things and experience that I knew you could if you were just given a chance feeling with him.

He has started down a path of athletics.  He is more serious about it than his sister.  He knows his father played multiple sports and he has successfully pulled me into that world.  Soccer is his love right now.  It's probably the one sport his father didn't play and that's fine.  He's having fun and it is a decent source of male bonding as he gets older.

It is tough to balance.  Sometimes I can't be everywhere.  Have I accepted it?  Yes, although I admit, grudgingly.    Twists and turns and even a change in jobs.  Two things have helped us a lot.  One was Ariana growing up enough to babysit.  The other was me finding a job in my field where I work from home.  I have had at least a 30 minute commute for almost 20 years.  Now that brought on a new one as I now put in close to 50 hours some weeks.  But even when I'm a starter on "Team No Sleep" I'm grateful for a lot of things.  Getting to soccer practice, swimming lessons and a host of other things wouldn't be possible.  It wasn't as easy as it sounds.  I had not left a job in 25 years.  Jobs had always left me.

I never pictured this life until we were in it.  I try to think of it as an adventure I'm privileged to be on; but I don't always succeed.  God often runs this train despite me.  It's hard.  Grief, feelings of abandonment, feeling cheated, like my children were cheated still happens.  I get tired, angry, and overwhelmed.  I have days where I will picture myself walking away from the next person that asks me for anything.  But it is an adventure and I am privileged to be a part of it.  So, eight years now, we have been on our own.  The struggle is real...really worth it.

Reflections of a Soccer Mom: Staying Back

My son started playing soccer when he was about five and a half. His school added an extracurricular activity called soccer fundamentals. It was open to Kindergarten through second grade. He fell in love with the sport. At now age 8, he still plays. He is in the lead on this. It isn't like school. He has to finish any camp, training or season he asks to do; but he can stop at the end of any season. I ask, "Are you having fun?" I ask, "Do you want to keep playing?" He has the occasional rough training; but he continues to love the game.

As he gets older, sports provides more than a fun way to use his boundless energy. He is learning sportsmanship, how to interact with other children his age and how to interact with other adults. And he is getting stronger. And I don't mean his little six pack. He once cried when someone knocked him down during a game and didn't stop to apologize. After all, he would stop if he accidentally knocked someone over. We just had a little talk. Manners are important son; but unless you are hurt, get up and keep going. If you are hurt, alert the coach and he or she will know if you need me. The game (nor life) will stop for you otherwise.

He is still having fun; but he wants to get better. He is still in the lead. We have switched programs based on his personal goals. But I have also sought out programs based on an experienced and yes, male presence in the coaching staff. I'm ever aware of my son's needs and one of them, a large one is to be able to look up to where he is trying to go and see a man pointing the way. His father is gone; but my son even though he doesn't remember having a father is no less in need of male guidance.

He is still very young so I am his source for just about everything. I point him towards Jesus, develop his faith. He considers Jesus his superhero; but the almighty isn't shooting himself down to put a physical hand on his shoulder. My son can't hear Him speak in a deep voice. That's a grief that won't end; but my son's need remain. So I told myself I would let him be coached. I'm dropping significant money on these training sessions, practices and club fees. Then there's, the clothes, cleats, and the time. I don't need to coach him too. The emails asking for volunteer coaches are hard to ignore; but when raising a child on your own, it is important to have a chance to step back and let someone else push him forward, pick him up, turn him around as I watch.

He continues to take falls. But he always hops up. But then yesterday, I had a chance to see if I could be about what I'd been saying. About half way through his Junior Development Program training with the local professional team, he took a fall I could see was different. I heard that faint muffled cry. Parents know this cry, the one I was likely the only one to hear due to the unique connection we share. I leaned forward but gripped my chair as he slowly brought himself to his knees. He looked my way but then he looked the other. I knew he was not going to run to me. He wasn't quite sure yet if he was okay; but, he was clearly going ahead.

His coach came to his side. I could hear him ask Elijah if he was alright. I could see him check him over; but I could also hear him encourage you in a way I could not. He had a mouth full of dirt. "Great job. Some of the best sometimes taste the field. Means you're going for it. Keep working hard." My son got up. He went ahead. The next water break came. He looked at me; but then he looked away. He finished his break. He didn't take one step towards me. He gave me a wave and went back to his coach. If he didn't move fast enough, I heard "Hustle up Elijah!" And he moved. When he wasn't ready to defend during the one on one drills, I heard, "Be ready Elijah!" And whether he got beat off the dribble, he was ready for his turn.

Did we talk about it afterwards? Of course we did. "Did you see me fall?" "I saw you son." "I cried for a little minute." "I know you did." "How did you know?" "I heard you." "How did you hear that? I was keeping it quiet?" "Your cry came right to me through the other noise." I knew he might not get that so I went right on past it. "You're okay right?" "Yeah mom. I'm good. I got up and kept playing." "Did you have fun?" "Yeah, it was fun." "I'm glad you had fun. And you worked hard." "I want to be great, mom." "I know you do son. That's one of the reasons why we're out here." While he doesn't yet fully understand some of the other reasons, he'll still benefit.