I am going to preface this post by saying this will be the bravest and most raw I have gotten since my venture into the world of blogging a few months ago.
This week my six year old son was exposed to pornographic images on the internet. Holy shit. Right? If I could help him to unsee what he saw I would, but I can't. So instead, his experience led to several difficult conversations and a lot of discomfort. The first conversation was between my son, Brock, and my mother. After everything unfolded it turns out the first conversation actually occurred between Brock and my 8-year-old son, Nolan, but the wheels were put into motion following Brock's conversation with my mom. He was at my parents house several days after seeing the pornographic images and, as my mom sat on the floor with Brock while he built with Lincoln Logs, he shared with her that he saw a video. My mother's gentle way and nonjudgemental curiosity over the following few minutes opened a door for him to talk about what he saw in that video. When I returned to my parents after running an errand, my mom shared with me what he told her. Next, my mom and I spent some time confirming that what he told her was true and gathering information on exactly what he saw. When Brock came up from downstairs, where he had continued to play with Lincoln Logs, he approached me and climbed up on my lap. I squeezed him tight and told him that I was so proud of him. I told him he was brave to tell a grown up about something he saw that made his body feel strange. I told him that is EXACTLY what he is supposed to do. I let him ask questions and I was honest in my responses. The contents of the video contained oral sex and my son was confused about he observed. He told me that the woman in the video had to do "that" to get the baby out of the daddy. I explained that daddy's do have sperm in their testicles that mommy's need to create babies, but that isn't how you get babies out. I said, "You know when your penis gets long and it feels good when something touches it?" He nodded his head in understanding. I said, "Well, sometimes adults do things to each other's private parts because it feels good." Then I explained that it is only okay for adults to do that and we talked about how if an adult ever asked him to do something like that to get away and tell a grown up you trust right away. We also talked about how our private parts are private and it is never okay for us to show them to anyone except our doctor and parents or people who take care of us. None of this was easy to talk with my six-year-old about. None of it was easy for him to talk about either. He didn't want to make eye contact and was nervous. When I told him that I would let Daddy know, he didn't want me to tell anyone else. I asked him if he felt like he was in trouble and he said, yes. I reassured my boy that he wasn't in trouble and that he did everything right. Even though it was difficult, Brock stuck with me and he was brave enough to start the conversation to begin with. Later that evening, after my husband got home from work, I shared with him how the day had unfolded. I apologized for taking the lead without us discussing things first, but he said he was relieved that I had done so. One thing my husband and I have discussed is the importance of being open and honest with our children, at an age appropriate level, about sexuality. We've let our kids take the lead by responding directly to their questions. This is not how either of us were raised, and it feels bold. It also feels uncomfortable at times, but it always feels like the right thing to do for us and our children; this week not withstanding. From what I remember, my Catholic school education on sex and sexuality consisted of the obligatory puberty talk in 5th grade, and a frightening video on abstinence and STDs in the 9th grade that my class watched on a projector screen in the Parish Hall. I think it would be an understatement to say it was inadequate. I could also write a book on my thoughts and ideas about how NOT talking about sex and shaming children and young people around this topic has led our society down a very dangerous path. When everything sex-related is "not okay" to talk about then how do our children learn where the healthy parameters are for expressing their own sexuality? I'll tell you what, they don't have to sneak into the National Geographic section of the library, or in my case, page through a Joy of Sex book with their friends at a sleepover. Whether we like it our not, our children are growing up in an age where they have access to more content than they could ever consume on any topic, including sex. I admit that I could have been watching my son more closely when he was clicking around on a tablet in the next room over. I've decided that I will allow myself to feel just enough guilt to make sure I change a few things about the supervision and limitations I set for my kids when it comes to what they consume on the internet. Putting this out there for the world to hear and hopefully learn from, or at least think about, is my way of putting to bed any shame I might feel about not being a good enough mother to prevent it from happening in the first place. My friend and co-worker, Jana, has really good tidbits of wisdom she occasionally places gently in my lap. She has two teenage daughters, and I really admire the way she parents her girls. Jana explained to me that if I think I am capable of protecting my children from hurt and danger by calculating every little risk, watching their every move, or worrying them safe, my efforts will be in vain. She reminded me that danger is everywhere, lurking where we least expect it. She, herself was reminded of this when her youngest daughter, a junior in high school, was in a serious car accident with two of her friends this past winter. Jana explained to me that, as a mother of children much older than mine, she has spent countless hours waiting and worrying until her girls are safe at home. Never once, on that cold and clear winter day, did she think twice about letting her daughter drive off with two friends in the middle of the afternoon to attend a local sporting event. Jana suggested I am better off putting my time and effort into fostering the strength my children will need to get themselves out of sticky situations, the resilience to bounce back from inevitable adversity, and the loving and trusting relationships that will lead my children home to me when guidance and safety is what they need. I am so thankful that my son trusted my mom enough to open up to her, and I am so thankful my mom took the time to sit with my son and to really hear him when he had something important to say. How often do we as adults truly give our children this opportunity? How often do I sit quietly and allow my children enough time and space to reveal to me the thief of their thoughts? On a good day, after reading to my boys and praying for them, I lay in between the two and listen. This is often when I hear stories of things that happened at school or maybe something that occurred between one of them and a friend. They also share with me their worries and their fear, or things they are excited about or looking forward to. In my last post I admitted that I have created a monster when it comes to the bedtime routine, but this week I decided that if enduring that monster means my boys get a chance every day, or almost every day anyway, to bend my ear and to lighten their load, well then, so be it. If you enjoyed this post and would like to be notified when I write something new, please subscribe below. I would like to thank my sister-in-law, Beth, who several years ago shared with me an experience she had with her 1st grade son after he saw "a video" on the school bus. I'm not sure if I would have had the courage or the words that I needed this week if she hadn't of been open and vulnerable enough to share her story with me. I know I wouldn't have had the courage to write this post.
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Why is it that I spend so much time looking forward to summer, but then, since having children, as the school year comes to a close, I start to panic?
I do a lot of yoga (well theoretically anyway) and there is an idea that with practice, it is possible to find just the right balance between effort and ease. For example, if you move too hastily into a pose or push too hard, the excessive willfulness actually creates tension and physically limits you. On the other hand, if you don't play with where your edge is and breathe into new space, you never progress. I am always taken by the beauty of what is humanly possible when someone finds the perfect balance between effort and ease; perhaps by swinging a golf club and sending a ball soaring ahead, or sailing across the finish line of a marathon in just over 2 hours, or flying through the air in a flawless acrobatic performance, When I think about the people in my life whom I truly admire, I realize I am drawn to those who have figured out how to live their lives on this narrow road. At work I think maybe I could be one of these people. Maybe I've stumbled enough times to learn there is nothing to be afraid of. That this road, this tightrope and perfect balance between will and acceptance is not hovering above me, but rather it is grounded to the earth. Living without fear at work has given me the freedom to feel confident, to be able to look around and notice my surroundings rather than turning inward and losing sight of all that is possible. Although, maybe more so, I am able to strike a balance because I view my work as just one aspect of who I am. If it were whisked away from me without warning, I know I would be devastated, but I know I would be okay. Being a mother, a good mother, is more than that to me. Motherhood isn't just one aspect of who I am, it is woven like a thread into every ounce of my being. Maybe that is why, as a parent, balancing the weight of effort and ease is such a challenge. I can push through exhaustion, uncertainty, clutter, chaos, strong emotions, expectations from my husband and children, expectations from my extended family and friends, and an overwhelming amount of thankless work, but only for so long. Eventually enough tension builds up and I topple over. The effort that I often exert is unsustainable. In the midst of raising six children, my mother found a way to consistently provide nutritious meals for our family. Dinner was an occasion, more often than not, when we would sit around a table and break bread. I hold this experience close to me, and work hard to provide nutritious meals for my family. I collect recipes, meal plan, grocery shop, scour Pinterest for ideas, and talk with friends about cooking all the time. There are times I over-effort dinner so much, that I lose sight of what it is about family meals I value so much to begin with. All my over-efforting creates friction in my relationships with my husband and kids, and occupies unnecessary space in my life. Oddly enough, I also have this tendency to swing in the other direction. I will crush it one week by making these amazing meals that have just the right amount of variety and color. Meals that use all the food in the fridge at its peak of freshness. Meals that are impeccably timed so that everything is warm and ready all at once. But on top of working, keeping up the house (if that is what you want to call it), and all the duties of being married and having three small children, I effort my way right off the cliff. The following week I usually do no meal planning, no grocery shopping, and very little cooking. We all eat like crap until I feel gross enough to muster up enough energy to cross over from easy-street to effort-lane. It rarely occurs to me that a narrow space exists between these two roads. Maybe that's why, the closer I get to summer, the more scary it seems. Summer to me is a three month trip jumping back and forth between two dead end roads. When I get to the end of one road, I jump over to the other. Just thinking of the effort it takes to get my family on and off easy-street can be exhausting. Plus, I'm usually moving so quickly from effort-lane to easy-street and back again, I'm not sure where or when to look for the narrow road that exists in-between the two. I guess maybe I've stumbled upon it here and there, but I have a hard time getting back there. As I was pondering this idea I came across an article by Phillip Moffitt called Striking a Balance between Effort and Ease in Yoga and Life. Moffitt talks about this neutral place where you are alert, but the mind is not attaching to anything; it is just appropriately responsive. For the yogi's out there this is what we do at the end of each practice. Savasana. Being mostly at home these past few months, has brought about more quiet for me. In that quiet space I've stumbled upon the narrow road more often. A few weeks ago, on a Thursday evening, the weather was beautiful and my husband had just gotten home from work. He and my 8-year-old son, Nolan, decided to toss their bikes and fishing poles in the back of the truck and take on the Munger Trail. Jared and I had a short exchange about the fact that I had no plan for dinner, but I assured him maybe I would be enlightened with a dinner revelation whilst hanging out with the two little ones. After Jared and Nolan took off with their bikes and fishing poles, I followed Brock (6) and Ryann (3) into the woods behind our house. For the next hour or maybe more I was able to find that space; the narrow road between easy-street and effort-lane. That neutral mind-space where I was alert and responsive to my children, but I was also living fully in the present. There was no plotting my next move, no brainstorming dinner, no checking my watch. I was fully present with my kids. Ryann was so in the moment she barely noticed she wet her pants. I didn't notice at all until she came up to me and presented to me the wet streak running from one ankle up her leg, across her tush, and down the other leg. I figured she was playing near the water anyways and told her if her legs got too itchy I would take her inside. Jared called and I hadn't come up with anything for dinner yet. It was now easily 6:30. I began to feel an awareness of time slipping away too quickly. The time in the day where the dinner and bedtime routine, which for more than eight years has often been the only thing keeping my sanity in check, was in peril. BUT, even though it was a Thursday night, I didn't need to have the kids up and out the door by 7:30 am the next day. Distance learning definitely has its perks. Nolan and Jared got home. Jared started the grill, and Nolan helped me inflate the paddle board. For the next hour or so my kids, along with the neighbor kids who had dropped their kayaks in at the park across the river, played. They played in the water paddling the boats around, laughing, splashing, "falling in the water"; having fun. The kind of fun that can only be created by allowing space for an experience to unfold. I waved to Zada, my friend and neighbor, from across the river bank and we exchanged a look, a shared knowledge that we were witnessing one of those BIG, small moments. By the time we sat down for our dinner of grilled hot dogs and roasted broccoli at maybe 7:30...all three of the kids were so full of weightless energy they might've floated right off their stools. They interrupted one another, talking about playing in the river and sharing that it was the best part of their day. It was the best part of my day too. As I chewed on my dinner, I tried to stay in the moment with my kids, but my mind started to cloud over with the thought that the best and worst part of my day was about to begin. You know the part where you have three over-tired kids covered in river muck that need to be bathed, and brushed, and jammied? They needed books, and prayers, and back scratches, and hugs and kisses, and songs.....I've created a bedtime routine monster. I love it. I hate it. As I sit here weeks later, I don't remember much about how my husband and I got the kids to bed that night. Somehow we managed. I do know it will be a long time, maybe never, before I forget the feeling I had that night watching my kids create an experience that was purely them. The only credit I can take is the restraint I mustered to do nothing but be in the moment when I felt the evening, and the gift of time, slipping away. In his article, Moffitt described another way to approach the idea of finding balance between effort and ease by beginning to differentiate between intention and willfulness. He described intention as a direction we move in and towards, and willfulness as the determination to push through any resistance. Intention implies flexibility and gentleness; the narrow road. Willfulness is the absolute, unswerving, and rigid over-efforting I don't often notice in myself until I am already plunging toward effortlessness. Completely unplugging. Staring at my phone, zoning out on TV, escaping from my life for a day or two. This summer I would like to seek the narrow road. I am on a quest for effort that is so easy, it is sustainable. It will be difficult, because motherhood is difficult, and because over and over again I've pushed forward in life by doing something, even if that something is wrong. It's been hard to keep fear and self-doubt at bay since becoming a mother. I've awakened a part of myself so vulnerable my entire being might unravel if that part of me were pulled away. I am going to give myself grace and remind myself the narrow road is not an unattainable space hovering high above me. I don't need to have my eyes to the sky to find it, but rather, I need to breathe into the present moment and look for something grounded so firmly to the earth that slowing down is the only way to notice it. Who would like to join me? |
AuthorMy name is Alissa Anderson. I am the School Psychologist for the Esko Public School District in Esko, MN. I am also a mother of three and was certified as a Love and Logic Parent Educator in 2009. Archives
January 2023
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