Unbreakable Bonds

I have a fairly big family. Five brothers and sisters, four in-laws, 10 nieces and nephews. And now that my older sister moved back to town, we are all living in the same city. We get together often for holidays, birthdays and special events. When we go trick-or-treating, we all go together and take up half the street as we knock on doors. We have our share of familial challenges (trust me), but we’re pretty close-knit most of the time. 

One of my favorite parts of this big family is watching the friendships between the cousins grow. Cousins play such a unique role in a kid’s life. They aren’t so ever-present to get the sibling-treatment (bickering, rivalry, insult-slinging), but they are present for so many of the milestones, both big and small. They are there when you deliver your lines at the school play, cheering you on when you’re up to bat, patting you on the back after you miss that basket. They are there for every single birthday, annual camping trips and when your Grandpa gets sick and dies. They are there for the best and worst moments of life — forging this unbreakable bond. 

We recently went to my niece’s birthday party and Claire, who has been besties with her since they were toddling, felt a bit threatened by a friend who was also invited to the birthday. She pulled me into the bathroom to tell me how she felt like she was being replaced by this girl — “this outsider.” This is what I told her: 

For both of you, friends will come and friends will go. New friends will come. Some will be best friends. But those friendships don’t lessen what you have with each other. What you have is deep and unbreakable — a bond you’ve been forging since you were babies. A bond that will last your lifetime. 

I saw the relief wash over her. And I was taken by surprise at how deeply I felt those words. I’ve always known these cousins would have a close connection, but in that moment I pictured their future selves. As teenagers and 20-somethings. 30-somethings with kids of their own. Being there for each other as they lose their parents/aunts and uncles. It occurred to me that after I’m gone, they’ll be there together, reminiscing about long-forgotten games of hide-and-seek, Christmas at Grandma’s, Easter egg hunts and sleepovers. They’ll have the “remember when” moments and laugh until they can’t breathe. When the tears are flowing, they’ll give that long hug that says “I know. I got you.” 

What a beautiful gift for them — and me. 

Explorers' Club: An Update

It’s been awhile since I’ve written about our Explorers' Club, so let me recap. It’s not an official club or anything — it’s some variation of my family members who enjoy going out into the world and trying to discover something wonderful about it. 

I say some variation of family members because while it started as a family endeavor, sometimes it’s just Claire and I. Or just the girls and I. Or sometimes it’s all five of us. It all depends on availability and willingness (more on this later). 

The club first started when the girls were about three or four, and we found a little-known trail that crossed a creek and under a bridge and through a tunnel of trees. (Turns out it’s a relatively well-known trail — maybe the most well-known trail in town — but seven years ago, it was new to us.) This adventure sparked a desire to find more special places and see things we never knew existed in our little city.  

So, between all of us, we’ve explored nearly all of the public trails and parks. And while these adventures used to be highly anticipated, my 9-year-old (going on 13), has recently been resisting. “Ugh, are we just going to like walk again??” She said the word “walk” like it’s the most boring and dull thing she could imagine. 

It was this same attitude that she brought with her on a recent trip to a new trail. She complained in the car, after she got out of the car and for the entire first 10 minutes of the adventure. Then, we hit the area of the trail that runs along water. There were rocks to be thrown, a couple of small waterfalls, dead fish lying about, froglets hopping — and her bad mood suddenly disappeared. 

For the next 45 minutes, I had my explorers' club back. It. Was. Awesome. I know it won’t always end like that — some of the adventures will be “like just a walk.” But my hope is that when they’re grown, they’ll discover the seeds I planted when they were young. There is joy and excitement around you all the time — sometimes where you least expect it. If you’re looking for it and being grateful for the wonders of the world (both big and small), you’ll always find happiness. 

Crushin' the Patriarchy

A week or so ago, Claire comes home from school and starts telling me about her day. After a few minutes of the regular stuff, she casually says “Oh, and I crushed the patriarchy today.” 

Ya know, as one does. 

A little backstory: I have a passionate desire for equality. I purposefully shopped in the boys section when the girls were little because they didn’t have any blue onesies in the girls section. When the McDonalds employee asked, “do you want a boy toy or a girl toy?” I respond with “my daughters would love the toy car.” And my greatest and most real contribution to the cause of gender equality: I have been educating my girls on just how pervasive the inequality is (Henry will get a similar education + added bonus of how boys can help further the cause). 

They learned at a young age that marketers determined that pink was a girl color — that there is no such thing as a girl color or a boy color. They learned that girls come in all varieties — ones that like lace and ones that like mud and shockingly — ones that like both lace and mud. (And while we’re at it … ones that like neither lace nor mud.) I detest the boxes that society tries to put us in and wanted the girls to know that they are complex and beautiful humans and can be whomever they want to be. 

I still think it’s important to be clued in to the ways society shapes how we think — like the ridiculous idea that strong, tough boys can’t like butterflies or My Little Pony. But these past few months, I’ve upped the education. I’ve talked about the more serious and harmful ways that a male-dominated world impacts us, specifically regarding politics and economics. When I told the girls about the gender pay-gap, they were floored at the injustice. 

And to really hammer home the idea and make it memorable, I often shout “smash the patriarchy” after one of our discussions. I complete it by punching the air with my fist. 

So, that’s the backstory. Back to the present. 

Apparently, a couple of boys at school told Claire that girls can’t dribble basketballs. Then, they mockingly dribbled the ball "like a girl" and bobbled it all around. Claire was quick to let them know that girls absolutely can dribble the ball and showed them her sweet moves. 

She told me this story and said “so, I crushed the patriarchy. And I told a few other girls about the patriarchy and they are going to crush it, too.” 

Sky’s the limit, girls. Don’t let anyone hold you back. 

I Got This

When the girls were babies, I was the stereotypical first-time mom: overly protective, overly cautious, overly helpful. I had two miscarriages before getting pregnant with them and then they were born a month early and spent 10 days in the NICU. Their fragility combined with my nurturing nature was a perfect formula for me doing everything “overly.” I tied their shoes and zipped their coats for too many years. I was too quick to jump in and help them solve their challenge. It all came from the best possible place, but I didn’t give them enough opportunities to succeed or fail on their own. Of course, I didn’t know any of that in the moment. 

But after I watched them grow into these capable, strong, resilient children, I realized they don’t need me to do so much. In fact, what they really needed was for me to do less. Being the first kid(s) comes with with plenty of perks, but the price of that are parents who are learning how to parent for the first time. It’s not better or worse than middle kids or last kids — just like the other sibling positions, it has both benefits and disadvantages. And I can say confidently that nine years later, they are totally fine! Yes, they were babied more and for longer than Henry will be, but they know how to tie their shoes and zip their jackets. They desire their independence and often tell me “Mom, I don’t need help.” 

Which brings us here. 

The second time around, taking what I learned from my sweet girls, I realized that Henry needs plenty of opportunities to fail or succeed on his own. I still baby him plenty, because it’s just who I am — I’ll baby them for as long as I can because someday they’ll ask me to leave and “please shut the door behind you.” But I also give him space. And whether it’s that space or his own determined personality (or a combination of both), he has this confidence and determination that is inspiring. When I default to doing something for him, he shoos my hand away and says “Mom, I got this.” I take a step back, give him my patience as he struggles to get that sock over his heel. I resist the urge to lean back down and instead, I let him take it off and start over three or four times before he finally gets it and says, “See, Mom? I told you.” 

And while my problems are no longer getting that sock over my heel, I have found myself repeating his mantra when I’m in a difficult spot. Whether I’m nervous about doing something unfamiliar or having a rough emotional day, I whisper, “I got this” and I picture that pride he feels when he finally succeeds.