This Week: Presence for the Win
The world is melting, but being with my kids helps.
Dear fam,
It’s nearly 11 pm as I write you this missive from my computer, so this will be a short(ish) update on the happenings here at the Chaos Palace. And, folks, we have some chaos for you this week.
If you’ve been following along here, you’ve undoubtedly noticed that my last two newsletters weren’t about parenting, so much as they were about my unending heartsickness. To be sure, I continue to be absolutely ill anytime I think about what’s happening in Israel and Gaza. Which is almost all the time.
I read the news, and I want to vomit with anxiety.
Just this week, I translated an interview with a man from a Southern Israel kibbutz who smeared himself with his dead wife’s blood so that the terrorists hunting him would think he was already dead, too. They believe him, instead shooting the gas tank of the car they were lying next to. Gasoline spilled all over the couple, mixing with the blood. This man had to wait until the terrorists ran off before extricating himself and his wife’s body from the pool of fuel.
Also this week, Jewish students at Cooper Union College barricaded themselves inside the school’s library and hid from protesters who were, shall we say, not peaceably arguing their case.
Also this week, Hamas officials released the names of 6,747 people killed in the Gaza Strip since the beginning of the war. Almost half of the population of Gaza is under the age of 18. This means, unequivocally, that hundreds of children are dying every day in the territory. Mothers struggle to find clean water for their children. Food is scarce. Buildings are collapsing everywhere, residential districts reduced to rubble. Scores of people worldwide are calling for a cease-fire, which I don’t think is likely for a lot of reasons I won’t go into here.
(Somehow, though, Hamas fighters continue to have fuel for rockets and ventilating the underground tunnel system? I have many questions about their priorities, to say the least.)
But none of this is what I set out to write about when I sat down. “Why don’t you focus?” my four year old asked me a few weeks ago. Hah. Million dollar question right there, kid.
The thing is this: Since the war broke out three weeks ago, my wife and I have been a little distracted. You know, by the gnawing anxiety and fear for the lives of our friends and the future of our homeland.
I quit social media pretty quickly (unless LinkedIn counts), but I’ve still been spending days, hours in a stupor. It’s hard to focus on work, so I have to work after the kids get home from daycare. Then, it’s hard to focus on building Legos. I don’t have the patience to navigate the myriad negotiations Big Kid comes up with every minute of every hour.
(Me: “No more videos.” Him: “How about just one short video.” Me: “Nope, we’re done with videos.” Him: “It’s just a short one, mama. It’s ok.” Me: “Nope, no more.” ETC FOREVER)
Less presence leads to more frustration for Big Kid leads to less patience for us leads to more acting out leads to a big blow up, culminating in acting out at school in a major way.
Our sweet child wanted our attention so much that he’d figured out a plan. If he acted up enough, he’d get sent to the principal’s office. Where he could demand to be sent home. To us. Voilà.
Apparently, he told the principal to “call my mothers at once.”
Ahem. My child is a genius.
There’s a lot to be said about this, but I promised my wife I’d send a short email. So, in brief:
Our kids feel our energy. When we’re distracted, not with them, they notice. Putting our phones aside and trying to be as present as possible in the moment has been a game-changer since the kerfuffle at school this week.
We have an extra sensitive kid. And we need to get him the support he needs. This is much harder than it sounds, and I should really write a series of essays on the barriers to care that families of neurodiverse kids face. Like, the fact that an appointment with a developmental pediatrician has a one year waitlist. That’s the one I could get to answer the phone. Oh, and these appointments cost hundreds of dollars and are very rarely covered by insurance.
Being present is better for us, too. Sometimes, I feel like I’m in an endless improv show with my kids. Big Kid roars at me, and all I can say is “Yes, and I am also a dinosaur.” There’s a lot of “Yes, and…” moments in parenting younger kids. I think this is good practice for life, as well. There are so many moments in the day when I am called to rally, to say “Yes, and…” to the looming deadline or the dead car battery. Being present with my kids helps me not lose my mind with anxiety and helps me develop that improvisational muscle so I’m ready for other random SNAFUs.
I’m still very worried about my kid. I want him to have an easier time at school, I’m worried other kids won’t want to play with him if he has too many Vesuvius-level meltdowns, I want him to enjoy learning and thrive. But, for now, I’m trying to be present in the given moment at the Chaos Palace. To trust that, despite barriers, we will get him the help he needs. And, as my wise friend told me this week, to have some grace for myself.
Oh, and to eat cookies.
This week, the Torah portion is Lekh Lekha, wherein G-d invite Abraham on a wild adventure into the unknown. “Go forth from your country, from your birthplace, from your father’s home to the place I will show you.” Not even a destination! I mean, come on. Jewish tradition understands this as a leap of faith, following G-d’s voice and trusting in the outcome. But do we ever really leave our birthplace, the home we were raised in? Perhaps we can face the unknown because we know ourselves and can trust in the little piece of divine wisdom that lives inside us.
Wishing you a Shabbat of faith in yourselves and of presence.
Love,
Mikhal
What I’m reading
Touching the Art by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore is a stunning memoir of art, queerness, relationship to oneself and one’s family, and the visual experience of the world. Plus a lot more, but I won’t spoil it for you.
What I’m listening to
Outside Child by Allison Russell, over and over again.
What I’m writing
This interview with MI Leggett, the brilliant innovator who is imagining and realizing a sustainable future through fashion.