This Week: Be Your Own Lioness.
The world is chaos. But maybe we can teach our kids to be their own protectors.
Dear fam,
I hope you’ve had a decent week! It stormed and stormed all last week here in Jersey, the sky dumping interminable buckets of rain on us all. One day, the street outside our home was a river. “We should get a kayak!” exclaimed Big Kid, watching the water gush by. Honestly, he wasn’t wrong.
We didn’t get a kayak, though. First of all, it’s not really the most practical form of transportation. Second of all, we were too busy dealing with a deluge (see what I did there?) of ridiculous emergencies. The car battery died. The fridge became a fount of water, flooding the kitchen. We woke up to a countertop covered in ants.
And so forth.
I began writing this newsletter last Friday afternoon, but quickly got called away by… something? I can’t recall. The days are so full it’s hard to remember every detail. But I’ll say this — my wife and I basically can’t do anything at all when Big Kid is at home.
Here’s something you may not know about kids: If they say a sentence and you don’t respond in under 0.00003 seconds, they will repeat that sentence in an increasing volume until you explode.
This is true, I believe, of all four-year-olds. For our eldest, though, it’s compounded by his oversensitive sensory perception and anxiety.
Big Kid’s anxiety is a confounding thing for me, his (also anxious) mama. And I think our anxieties play out in similar ways. He is not, for example, afraid of performing in front of people or jumping off the top of a jungle gym. He is terrified that I won’t come back every time I walk slightly out of reach. When we’re sitting at the breakfast table and I go get myself a drink, he follows me, clinging to my leg. Similarly, I’m not scared of taking on a new career challenge or going on a wild adventure. I am afraid of failing the people I love, singing in front of people, and bugs. Our anxieties are disjointed, inconsistent, hard to line up in a neat row.
I’ve written about this a few times by now, as it’s definitely one of the more consistent struggles in our home. I’m thinking about it in a different way this week, though, for a couple of reasons.
First, Baby is now at the age Big Kid would have been had he gone to daycare when we first intended him to do so. And, in fact, today was her first day of daycare. She did great, a bit tearful at first, but overall very happy with her teachers.
We’d always planned for Big Kid to go to a daycare when he was seven months old. Instead, COVID-19 upended all our plans. Big Kid mostly stayed home with us until he was two years old. Once vaccines became available, we had a few superb babysitters caring for him, each for a few hours a week. I’ll always be grateful to those folks, but it wasn’t a full-time childcare situation.
Sometimes I wonder if Big Kid would have been less anxious, more independent, if he hadn’t been born in 2019. I’m not the only parent to experience this. Anecdotally, I’ve noticed a lot of my friends-who-are-parents talking about how their pandemic babies have more social anxiety or separation anxiety than their other children. This essay by
in Parents Magazine expresses some of the social anxieties her kids have experienced. Sure, kids have always been nervous around strangers — that’s actually a good thing! — but a lot more children are struggling to handle social situations than before. We’ve experienced this with Big Kid, too. Every time I see him engaging with another child, I say a small prayer of thanks.I wonder, will Baby be less anxious because we sent her to daycare earlier? Will she be less anxious because she’s just more of a relaxed kinda gal? Or will she develop her own quirky anxieties, and it’s all a losing game anyway?
This week, I was talking to my bestie from another nestie about the mess of a situation back home in Israel (I wrote about it here). “I worry about the traumas in our kids’ futures,” I told her, talking about wars, and army service, and school shootings in one breath. “Mikhali,” she told me, “Life is trauma. We can’t keep it from our kids. We can only prepare them for what’s to come.”
Oof.
When I see my babies, I want to wrap them in bubble wrap and stand like a lioness, growling at anyone who comes near. Essentially, to keep them in the womb. This is, of course, impossible. Nonetheless, this morning we all snuggled in bed together and I wished we could just stay there. Soft and languid and safe.
Alas, the world is chaos. And aren’t I the one always saying to let the chaos in? I mean, sheesh.
One thing I’m realizing is that there’s something I can give my children that will always stay with them, wherever their path may take them. I can teach them to be their own lioness, to protect themselves. Of course, this would require me trusting them to protect themselves and actually letting go sometimes. So, not easy.
We’re implementing a couple things. in order to instill a sense of internal resilience and safety. First, we’re practicing waiting for a hug or a kiss. Up until now, Big Kid would attach himself to me every 90 seconds or so, just to “feel warm.” It was as though he wanted to reassure himself I wasn’t going anywhere. This is very disruptive. Now, I let him know that we can only have huggy time after whatever things we’re doing (usually a meal) and assure him he can get through this. “We believe you can get through this. I’m not going anywhere,” my wife and I tell him.
Second, we talk him through his emotions and hold space for them, while setting very clear boundaries. “I love you very much, but I don’t love this behavior,” I’ll say, or “I can see how upset you are, but you may not drum on your sister. Let’s stomp it out or take a breath.”
I have no idea how this will pan out. My hope is that we’re building up some internal resilience in our kiddos so they can invite the chaos in without fear. I truly believe a certain amount of mess is necessary for growth, for creativity, for inspiration. We can only feel secure in the mess, however, if we feel grounded in who we are, in our inherent strengths and weaknesses.
I also want to build my own resilience, to be honest. So much of parenting is about my own growth. You can’t help your kids through their challenges until you work out your own shit; that’s just the truth. I’m working on accepting my volatile emotions, my distracted ADHD self, my ever-shifting queerness, my changing body. I’m trying to own it all. One day, I hope to look at myself and just see who I am. No notes, or feedback, or criticism — just a clear-eyed look at the person who is there. I think that would signify true resilience.
I want that for my kids, too, but maybe before they turn 37.
I hope, wherever you are, you’re looking at yourself with compassion. And maybe even love.
Shabbat shalom,
Mikhal
What I’m reading
I’m about halfway through Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder, a book about an infectious disease specialist and anthropologist who is trying to cure tuberculosis (and other infectious diseases) in, so far, Haiti and Peru. So far, this is a beautifully written book that engages bluntly with the inequalities inherent in the global health industry. Kidder’s writing is superb: Clear, engaging, moving, not a wasted word to be found. I also loved the below piece in
by and these two Op-Eds about what’s happening in Israel, one in Haaretz and one in The New York Times.
What I’m listening to
I’m going to see the Barbie movie today and, in order to prep, I have been listening to the official album. Which is amazing. Also, my incredible wife released GRACE, a song that describes my complicated relationship to my hometown of Jerusalem better than I ever could. Here’s the video, a collaboration with filmmaker Dalia Castel:
I love how you're practicing conscious parenting and building resilience in your kid as well as in yourself. 👏🙌🤗