We got home from a six day road trip to look at colleges with our eldest son, Seth. We took all three boys, even James, the 3 yr old, but we left the two girls at home with my mom because we can't take them out of state and because we felt we needed some family time to reconnect.
The trip started as one simple thing but kept getting bigger and longer as odd things got piled on. (We bought a car--because the next state over had cheaper prices. So now we can all ride together in one monster vehicle. The least fun, most practical car buying trip ever. "Least fun" pretty much characterizes most of our major decisions these days.)
The trip was good for James. Back to his usual place of the youngest child with tons of attention from everyone. I noticed his vocabulary and speech complexity blossoming. And he was soooo happy and calm. Back to being our easy-going, unstressed, mostly compliant toddler. I loved and loved and loved on him, and still felt teary-eyed when we pulled into the driveway wondering if it had been enough to replenish his depleted mommy-time resources.
When we walked in the girls were more excited than I thought they'd be. Lots of exclamations and hugs and laughter. Kate kept running into my arms, then getting down to take five steps away, before relaunching herself back into my arms. She seemed to want to re-enact the exuberant, joyful return over and over again.
At first Jane just wanted to greet everyone but then after about an hour she found me and snuggled up next to me. She really doesn't want to be held. Neither girl likes tight hugs or feeling encircled when on our laps. They'll sit on our laps or beside us but hugs need to be very brief and not too strong. So, Jane came to sit beside me and leaned in more than she usually does. She draped herself across my arm and leg. I kept on talking to my mom while gently patting her shoulder or brushing her hair. She was calm and content.
This was an improvement. In the past both girls have been overly-excited whenever there has been a transition and didn't seem to have any idea how to reconnect. They just flailed around the house being loud and silly until someone noticed them.
About two hours later it was just Jane and I in the room before bedtime and she needed to run through it all. Who was here when we were gone. Who will be here tomorrow and the day after. She needs to repeat things out loud many, many times. I've learned to listen to her words and then use them to give her a simple script she can memorize and repeat. The interesting thing about this script was that it all centered around food. She framed each caretaker as, "Grandma fed me when you were gone. Sue (our nanny) will feed me lunch tomorrow. You will feed me dinner when you get home from work." I haven't heard her use meals to represent care-taking before but it makes sense. Both girls came with, and still experience, food issues. They would overeat at meals and steal food inbetween. The greatest cause of anxiety for them is the thought of being denied food. Kate, at just 23 months, is still significantly obese though she's losing weight. Jane was chunky and probably would've been obese if she isn't growing so tall (at 3.5 yrs old she wears size 6).
I was most surprised at my own reaction, though. I felt...ambivalent. They felt like, I guess, seeing my students after a break. They were kids I like and know...but don't love. Yet. (I feel the "yet" is truly there. I think I'll love them, truly love them, at some point. But that point isn't here now.)
I care about them. I'm glad they were safe and happy while we were gone. I'm sorry they were sad while we're gone. I'm relieved to see improvements in the attachment and bonding process as they greet our return with typical emotions of happiness, grief, and seeking to physically reconnect.
But I don't feel that overwhelming wave of love and the need to crush them to chest and rock them back and forth while I smell their hair and necks. I don't need to smooch their cheeks and tickle their ribs till they squirm and giggle. I don't need to exclaim loud, "I love you! I missed you! I'm so glad to be back!"
I did and said those things. But only because they're practiced behaviors and because I know they're the right behaviors to do. I moved through the motions. Fake it till you make it.
Mostly, overwhelmingly, deeply, I feel the weight of The Work. The work of providing a home and teaching them how to behave within a healthy family. It's work. Good work with sweet little moments of cuteness sometimes. But work, nonetheless.
All kids feel like work sometimes. These girls just feel like work all the time. I hope and believe the "yet" is coming and someday they won't feel like work anymore.
The trip started as one simple thing but kept getting bigger and longer as odd things got piled on. (We bought a car--because the next state over had cheaper prices. So now we can all ride together in one monster vehicle. The least fun, most practical car buying trip ever. "Least fun" pretty much characterizes most of our major decisions these days.)
The trip was good for James. Back to his usual place of the youngest child with tons of attention from everyone. I noticed his vocabulary and speech complexity blossoming. And he was soooo happy and calm. Back to being our easy-going, unstressed, mostly compliant toddler. I loved and loved and loved on him, and still felt teary-eyed when we pulled into the driveway wondering if it had been enough to replenish his depleted mommy-time resources.
When we walked in the girls were more excited than I thought they'd be. Lots of exclamations and hugs and laughter. Kate kept running into my arms, then getting down to take five steps away, before relaunching herself back into my arms. She seemed to want to re-enact the exuberant, joyful return over and over again.
At first Jane just wanted to greet everyone but then after about an hour she found me and snuggled up next to me. She really doesn't want to be held. Neither girl likes tight hugs or feeling encircled when on our laps. They'll sit on our laps or beside us but hugs need to be very brief and not too strong. So, Jane came to sit beside me and leaned in more than she usually does. She draped herself across my arm and leg. I kept on talking to my mom while gently patting her shoulder or brushing her hair. She was calm and content.
This was an improvement. In the past both girls have been overly-excited whenever there has been a transition and didn't seem to have any idea how to reconnect. They just flailed around the house being loud and silly until someone noticed them.
About two hours later it was just Jane and I in the room before bedtime and she needed to run through it all. Who was here when we were gone. Who will be here tomorrow and the day after. She needs to repeat things out loud many, many times. I've learned to listen to her words and then use them to give her a simple script she can memorize and repeat. The interesting thing about this script was that it all centered around food. She framed each caretaker as, "Grandma fed me when you were gone. Sue (our nanny) will feed me lunch tomorrow. You will feed me dinner when you get home from work." I haven't heard her use meals to represent care-taking before but it makes sense. Both girls came with, and still experience, food issues. They would overeat at meals and steal food inbetween. The greatest cause of anxiety for them is the thought of being denied food. Kate, at just 23 months, is still significantly obese though she's losing weight. Jane was chunky and probably would've been obese if she isn't growing so tall (at 3.5 yrs old she wears size 6).
I was most surprised at my own reaction, though. I felt...ambivalent. They felt like, I guess, seeing my students after a break. They were kids I like and know...but don't love. Yet. (I feel the "yet" is truly there. I think I'll love them, truly love them, at some point. But that point isn't here now.)
I care about them. I'm glad they were safe and happy while we were gone. I'm sorry they were sad while we're gone. I'm relieved to see improvements in the attachment and bonding process as they greet our return with typical emotions of happiness, grief, and seeking to physically reconnect.
But I don't feel that overwhelming wave of love and the need to crush them to chest and rock them back and forth while I smell their hair and necks. I don't need to smooch their cheeks and tickle their ribs till they squirm and giggle. I don't need to exclaim loud, "I love you! I missed you! I'm so glad to be back!"
I did and said those things. But only because they're practiced behaviors and because I know they're the right behaviors to do. I moved through the motions. Fake it till you make it.
Mostly, overwhelmingly, deeply, I feel the weight of The Work. The work of providing a home and teaching them how to behave within a healthy family. It's work. Good work with sweet little moments of cuteness sometimes. But work, nonetheless.
All kids feel like work sometimes. These girls just feel like work all the time. I hope and believe the "yet" is coming and someday they won't feel like work anymore.
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