A decade ago we welcomed our first baby into the world. I worried about the littlest things. Things that seem so incredibly ridiculous now. The temperature in the house... was it warm enough, too warm? Do we put a blanket on him at night? Id wake up in the middle of the night and look at the monitor to find he had rolled on to his belly and PANIC! Breastfeeding was hard. Hard to know how much he was actually eating when there is no bottle to get a visual. At first he gained weight slowly. I worried day and night. Do we switch to formula? Do we stick this out? Do we wait and seeand hope we are making the better decision. Milestone markers drove me insane.
I remember going for a well visit and the doctor asked me if he was rolling around to get things that were out his reach. What? No. Should he be? Is he delayed? Is something wrong? And while all of that was going on inside my head I looked at the doctor almost embarrassed to say anything... and blurted out its my fault! I never put anything out his reach! It never occurred to me. Like why would I put something across the room... he doesn't walk... He can't crawl yet... he cant even talk to tell me! I left that appointment feeling so so stupid! We got home I laid Aidan on the floor on his little mat and pushed the toys out of his reach. Sure enough he rolled over to get them.
I worried all the time. Who knew babies were so stressful?! Who knew it only gets worse... the worry I mean. At some point I felt like I had gotten a handle on things, that the major worries were behind me. He was walking and talking before his first birthday. He could not only say but identify the letters of the alphabet and was counting to 10 like a pro. We had managed to survive stomach bugs and the flu. Like was there anything we couldn't handle?! Ummmmm yes. A whole bunch of shit.
I was learning that I needed to strike a balance... between my fears and reality. Worrying about everything didn't stop the bad stuff from happening but it did put a damper on the good and uneventful times. I needed to enjoy more and stress less. The years were flying by and spending each passing day in a panic was not good for anyone.
Then it came time to register for school. I never anticipated just how hard their school years would be on me. If you think that grammar school was hard when you were a kid, take that times 1,000 and there you have what it feels like to have a kid in grammar school. All those feelings of insecurity that had been for so long a thing of the past come rushing back. Only worse. Will he make friends easily? Will the other kids be nice to him? Will his teacher be nice and caring and speak gently? Will he (I) make it through the day okay?
The first few years of school despite my fears were easy. The classes were small. The children were little and adorable. Despite the fact that we all know a 4 year old can be a total asshole at home with their tantrums and blatant disregard for your efforts in keeping a tidy house they are relatively nice to other pint sized people. And at that age in a classroom setting they are well supervised so there is not much room for them to behave otherwise. Aidan was getting along just fine and again I realized I needed to put my fears for him into perspective because for the most part things were good.
As with much of life things are fine until they are not. Not that we did not incur any hiccups through ages 7, 8, or 9.... but 10... 10 is proving to be a tough age. 10 looks like a child but talks like a teenager. 10 is aware of what other people think and starting to really care. 10 is emotional and fueled with hormones which if you don't know is sort of a recipe for disaster. 10 is insecure. 10 is finding yourself suddenly in "love" with a friend that doesn't feel the same way. 10 is finding your own voice and learning to stand up for yourself. 10 is fucking hard (for me too).
10 has brought me to tears, made me reevaluate, 10 has tugged at my heart and has me remembering what 10 really felt like. 10 is listening to their troubles and knowing you cant fix them all. 10 is giving advice that you have no idea whether it is right or wrong. 10 has made me realize it is time to strike a balance again.
It is really hard navigating these adolescent waters. Partly because other 10 year olds are assholes and not in the way my toddler can be an asshole. Watching your 10 year old learn the incredibly difficult lessons that life has to offer, delivered by another mean 10 year old is painful. I hear myself uttering empty words... like be the bigger person, walk away, take the high road.... while everything in me screams STAND UP FOR YOURSELF! Whatever that takes. Put 10 in its place!
I listen to 10 with my worried mind and heavy heart agonizingly understanding where he is coming from. Hoping the love we give him here is more than enough to ease the struggles of 10 and every age after.
