And then you let them go and they fall flat on their face.
Again.
And again.
I'm sure that's normal. But as a mom, I'm thinking I failed.
* * *
You know when I felt I couldn't protect James from bullies forever and I thought he could learn to stand up for himself by rehearsing what to do, by trusting the Holy Ghost to help guide him, by actually facing the situations as they arise? I was torn between being the helicopter mom and being the mom that let him live and learn. I let him walk home from school with his brother and sister. And he got bullied again. And again. And again. Until finally I decided they couldn't walk home anymore. Either he wasn't ready. Or I hadn't taught him well enough. Or maybe the situation was always going to be too hard for an Asperger child to handle, no matter how ready or how well-taught he was.
* * *
I don't know how many times we've talked about stranger danger. A million? We've been frank with them about the burglaries, broken windows, stolen cars, gas tanks going dry, and even near-kidnappings in our neighborhood. Every day in our neighborhood, new graffiti appears and people's hanging plants, porch rockers, and bikes disappear from front yards or open garages. We've explained that even people you know and think you trust can be dangerous. I don't even want them going to our immediate neighbors if they need help. They need to go down the street to Patina's or Rosie's house if they must get a neighbor. And I live in what I consider a pretty decent neighborhood!
I've been letting James stay home alone while I run errands, and I tell him every single time not to answer the door or the phone for anyone, even people he knows (with the exception of Grandma and Grandpa only). [Sorry brothers, I need to draw the line short so I won't even allow aunts and uncles to come over unannounced while he's alone. And he can only answer the phone if it identifies the caller as me or dad.] James knows all the right answers when we grill him. But when it comes to real life, it's like he gets amnesia.
Rex and I took the younger two on a couple errands with us the other day and let James stay home. As we were leaving, the Jehovah's Witnesses came walking down our street. "No Soliciting" means nothing to them so they always come knocking on our door. (Grrr.) Without thinking, James reflexively answered the door, and when they asked to speak to his parents, he told them they were not home. He waited anxiously for 2 hours until we returned and ran to the car to admit worriedly what he had done.
Perhaps I came down too hard on him by telling him that I'm glad he was alive. It was fortunate that he opened the door to some nice missionaries. But the strangers could have been bad guys with the intent to rob him, beat him, kidnap, or even kill him. Scare tactics? Maybe. But it's reality. He cried and I felt terrible, but I hope he learned from the mistake.
Today, I let him stay home while I took the younger ones to the library. Aunt Tanaia called and he recognized the name on the phone so he thought it was okay to answer it. I wish I could have told him that was okay, but again I have to draw the line short. He first needs to learn how to talk on the phone properly and how to take messages. And more importantly, he needs to NOT trust everyone...because what did he tell her? "Mom is not home." He forgot to say "she's not available." (Yes, we rehearsed what to say if he forgot and actually picked up the phone or opened the door.) Fortunately, it was only his aunt. But he also forgot to tell me that she called until I announced to the kids that the plans for the next day was to visit their cousins -- oh, I guess we aren't doing that now because the cousins are sick and James forgot to tell me until then. When we reviewed what happened, he clapped his hand to his forehead and looked forlorn, but I hope he learned from the mistake.
* * *
Megan and James have overcome their fear of the water since returning from San Diego and have become better and better swimmers. Nervously, I allowed James to swim in the deep end without me. He proved to do well. I only allow Megan to swim in the deep end if I go with her -- and I swim right along side her. She's doing great, but she is still struggling. I am really proud of her determination. (She reminds me of myself, I must say. That's good and bad. Independent, strong-willed, stubborn, gosh-darned determined.)
Knowing I gotta let them spread their fins and swim, I brought my book and didn't go in the water with them today. It was that time of the month, not heavy enough for a tampon, but heavy enough not to go swimming. It was the end of the summer and I thought they were ready. They were confident enough to go in without me. I kept looking up from my reading to make sure they were still doing well. The next time I looked up, Megan and the life guard were climbing out of the pool together. She was crying and sputtering. Everyone at the pool (not many, thank goodness) was silently watching. As I cloaked her in a towel, I'm sure they were all thinking I was an irresponsible mother, not watching my kids. I felt guilty. I know it happens all the time, and a child can still be in danger just out of arms reach and it can all happen in a split second. I know a mom can't protect her child from everything. But when she said, "Mom, how come that other mom was in the water but you weren't?" I felt I'd failed her.
* * *
It seems that lots of people I know have left the Church. I don't begrudge them at all. In many instances, I empathize. If I didn't know what I know, if I didn't feel what I feel, I wouldn't stay either. Just because Mormons are taught to be Christlike doesn't make them any less human; people can be mean; philosophies of men are mingled with scripture unintentionally because we are imperfect beings trying to teach each other with only the Spirit to keep us from blindly leading the blind. Our Church sets high standards and has high expectations of its members. The underlying culture is critical, demanding, and unforgiving...even if the doctrine is anything but. The busy, cacophonous world around us sweeps us away from spiritual things. There are reasonable explanations on both sides of issues, large and small, and it seems impossible to decipher which one is lying or misguided. I often feel like Joseph Smith trying to find out which of all the churches was the right one -- over simple things like water purification systems -- not even about my own salvation!
What am I doing, raising children in this confused and angry world? How can I ever expect to succeed in teaching them how to discover the truth? How can anyone withstand such forces of pressure, especially niave children? And when my children decide for themselves important issues like if they really believe in God or the Church in which they were raised, if they think it is good or evil to help the poor, if they develop an attraction to their same sex, if they have sex (or get pregnant) out of wedlock....how will I react? Will I be ready to catch them when they fall? Will I be disappointed in them or will I love them for choosing for themselves what they believe? Will I feel like a failure? Or will I feel like I did my job well, teaching them to use their head and heart to decide for themselves?
I'm certain every mother asks these questions. How do I know if I have done enough? How will I know if they are ready to fly? If they crash, have I failed? I can spout out the answers like James. But in real life, it's a different story. A mother's job is never over, but the touch of her hand on her child's life must lighten as he gets older until he grows up and the touch is more a memory for guidance. I think only motherly instincts can tell you when to let up or pull back. And when they grow up, they are who they become, no matter how well you did your job. I just hope I can be the kind of mom who understands that when the time comes.
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