When they fall over a cliff calling our name and we know our hands won't reach them in time.
When they walk away from us, through a schoolyard door, and we can't follow them inside.
When they pass through an invisible wall, while we remain trapped on the other side. When their decisions and actions lay beyond our reach. When we realize we can't save them...
Maybe this is what we are here to learn. Over and over again. That we aren't in control.
And we can beat ourselves up with finely crafted barbs but this was never our show to direct. We don't write the script. We can try to pry back the layers but there will always be more mystery inside than meaning. More questions that hang above us like clouds that may or may not rain.
I took Olive for a jog around University Lake yesterday after Elias's first day of school. I needed to run so I convinced her to ride in our BOB stroller instead of jogging along with me. I wanted to push her and not think about my son wearing diapers in 5th grade. Pound out my anxiety about another school year of balancing my role of school counselor and Elias's Mother in the halls of Airport Heights. I wanted to look at the mountains and the water and just move my body across the well-worn trail.
Half-way around the lake, Olive wanted to get out, so I told her we'd stop at the beach and let Tonsina swim. Up the hill from the beach I spotted a good stick at the edge of the trail and stopped running to pick it up.
"Mom!!!!"
I looked up in time to see the stroller rolling backwards towards a small cliff to the lake. I saw Olive's face, eyes wide, my name on her lips, and as I lunged, the stroller slipped down, past my reach. The BOB flipped over twice before downed trees stopped it from falling in the water.
I scrambled down after and as I held Olive in my arms on the side of the steep embankment, I repeated, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." I checked her body to make sure nothing was broken and found only scrapes and bruises.
When she stopped crying she said, "I want to go home Mama."
"I know Babe, that was really scary."
Olive nodded and I carried her up the hill, holding onto a tree to help pull us up the steep incline. I gently put her down on the trail and said, "I'll be right back after I get the Bob."
Amazingly, no one walked past during this whole ordeal, though we had run past several groups of dog-walkers. And I guess I'm a bit relieved that my Mom fuck-up didn't include multiple witnesses, just my daughter, who after four and a half years knows I'm full of faults.
When I finally muscled the stroller up the embankment--(not realizing till we got back to the car that my keys and phone fell out and lay hidden in the brush)--Olive held my hand and we slowly walked together down the trail. "That was my mistake Olive. I forgot to put on the brake. I messed up and I'm so sorry. I know it was scary."
"I'm kinda hurt but kinda OK now."
I smiled at my strong little girl. "You are so brave. I love you Sweetie." And it was fine that she didn't want to get back in the stroller and that our pace resembled a tortoise more than a hare because she was OK.
And so is Elias, OK, even if his processing speed, movement and development are nothing like his peers. Even if I cant stand beside him to smooth out every social encounter. Even if I can't catch him every time he falls.
And as we all know, he falls. A lot.
We all do.
"Mom," Olive said as we walked out of the woods and into the field, "When I fell it was a little bit scary and a little bit fun."
And that's childhood, and parenthood, and this painfully beautiful life of ours. A little bit scary and a little bit fun. If we take away all the scary we rob our children of the fun.
When we let ourselves grieve, little by little, joy returns.
Holy shit! That's rich. That is parenthood. Learning to balance the scary and the fun.
Posted by: Chelan | 08/22/2014 at 11:46 PM
Strangely appropriate that the blog before this was "we all fall down". So glad Olive is ok. Now it will become that memory when Olive says, "mom, remember when....". This kid thing is scary.
Posted by: Kelly Osher | 08/23/2014 at 10:06 AM
Whats interesting is my girl who usually loves a dramatic story did not want me to tell Dad or Elias or even Grandma about it, I guess it was scary enough that she's not ready to relive it yet. And every day since when I picked her up from school she said in the car, "I don't want to go to the lake." Poor kid. And yes , scary indeed:)
Posted by: Christy | 08/24/2014 at 11:29 AM
Thank you for being - always - so honest. We all screw up, we all do, and I think it's a gift to raise our children to see that it's not important how often we fall, it's really about learning to bounce back. And keep bouncing. And to ask for help when we need a hand. As one who was beating myself up earlier today for what felt like a huge mistake that lead to crying on the first day of Kindergarten - thanks for the reminder.
Posted by: Louise | 08/25/2014 at 06:31 PM
Olive is a bada$$ just like her mom. So relieved you are all home safely. Thank you for such a poignant post. When we let ourselves grieve, we open up to the joy. Truism.
Posted by: Jenn Seiff | 08/25/2014 at 06:35 PM
Christy,
I know its tough to think about a 5th grader wearing diapers to school.. but if it makes you feel any better..im resorting to substitute teaching wearing diapers..yes, my incontince is back..reoccured in May.. went away briefly when i was undergoing biofeedback.. But now its back.. I may not have kept up with my regimen exactly.. but i tried.. Actually.. I manage quite well.. using a bodystocking aka adult onesie to hide it.. and it works.. I know him saying blatanly he needs changing doesnt help privacy matters.. but in regards to his diaper showing..perhaps a bodysuit would help..and there are tablets called nullo that help with fecal odor..not sure if they are meant for chldren though..hope this helps..he and you are NOT alone!
Posted by: Rob | 10/20/2014 at 09:10 PM