Early Christmas

My mother decided in February this year, when she couldn't remember what she had given anyone for Christmas, that this year she would do something different. So tomorrow we are headed to California. The rest of my family is coming from Utah and we are all going to meet up for a week of theme-parking.

We've had months of excitement and anticipation, my mother is beside herself with joy, and the memories, no doubt, will be wonderful.

See you on the other side!

Parenting My Middle Child

Help.

Have I told you how much I love my middle son? He is smart--from his first smile at just two weeks old to his ability to handily beat me at memory to his memorization of something paragraphs long after just a few practices--this is one bright child. He is adorable and adoring when he takes a mind to be. He likes to tease and play in typical five year-old fashion. His four cowlicks, two of which swirl in opposite directions in his crown, guarantee that his hair always sticks up except for the two weeks after dad gives one of his great haircuts. He can charm anyone, and has a way of wrapping teachers and grown-ups around his finger after about four minutes in their class.

So why do I need help? If he is really so wonderful, then what, exactly is the problem?

Padawan went through some difficult kid-stuff between age two and three. I chalked it up to a new baby brother and a major move. Everything considered, in fact, he did remarkably well. He started coming into his own and the Jedi Knight always wanted him to tag along.

Then Jedi Knight went to school.
And Mommy had a baby and an early morning paper route.

And Padawan wasn't quite a big boy, but he wasn't quite a baby.

Ever since then, he has been stuck between big and little. He plays it to his advantage. "I don't want to do that, I'm not a baby like Youngling!" "I can't do that, I'm not a big boy like Jedi Knight."

So far, this is all typical middle child/5 year-old stuff. In fact, when I found out that number three was going to be a boy, I held Padawan close and kissed him, and though I never said it out loud I told him in my head a hundred times that I was sorry that he would never be my "baby" boy again. There was never a sweeter baby.

Then, about 18 months ago, when Plantboy and I took our tenth anniversary trip, he was left with my mom for a few days, and then a loving aunt the boys are crazy about. When I picked him up, he was full of stories of all that they had done, and seemed reluctant to leave Aunt Sugar. On our way home we noticed that he was doing this weird snorting, clearing his throat thing. I thought he'd picked up a cold at first.

He had not.

Allergies?

It didn't seem to be.

The thing is when he would sniff and clear his throat, he didn't seem to have any mucus. The odd habit, which got worse when he was nervous or when it was pointed out, became a tic which he would do several times an hour unless he became extremely busy and distracted. Having taught and/or tutored several students with Tourette's Syndrome before, it seemed like some things fell into place. People with TS tend to be rather OCD. Even as a young child, Youngling was fastidious about making sure that doors and drawers were shut and hated even having a drop of water or spot of mud or dirt on his clothes. In fact, my brother and I had sometimes joked about Padawan being OCD when we would watch him toddle over to any open doors and slam them shut. Now it was coupled with a tic--a tic that was exacerbated by nervousness.

I did some homework and shared what I learned with Plantboy, who had been trying various ways to make Padawan drop the habit, some of which were slightly punishing. I convinced Plantboy to just pretend it wasn't happening and to wait an see. I prayed a lot during that time, having seen brief glimpses into the lives of families who deal with TS.

Padawan stopped.

But after that we noticed some things. Any time he was in front of people--a talk a church, introduced to new people, even reciting Articles of Faith in family home evening--the tic would come back. Or another one would arise. Itching was really common.

Starting earlier his year he began a new default mode--we call it drama-boy mode. When something doesn't work out for him, he immediately begins pouting or crying or yelling or throwing things, including himself, to the ground. He has an initial outburst and then folds his arms and stomps away. Sometimes I don't even know what has made him angry. I've reassured him a hundred times that if he asks for help then I can give it to him and remind him that very few of his problems are unsolvable. I've also repeatedly focused on not doing things for him until he drops the drama and uses his words.

The irony is, that of all my kids, his basic personality is the most mellow. He isn't too upset about changes in schedule or spontaneous things. He used to remind me so much of my sweet, laid-back husband, but it is hard to really say that any more. These outbursts have started to overshadow every other part of him, and his lack of self-control is wreaking havoc on our family. He butts heads terribly with Plantboy; on especially bad days, peace between the two of them balances on a knife-point. He pushes me to the point where I yell, then I feel terrible and try to start over with him. His innermost nature is so sweet and forgiving that he is quick to hug and cuddle after we have trouble. He fights with his brothers, more than the other two fight with him. He bosses and loses his temper with them. He is stubborn when he plays and quick to explode when things don't go his way.

His latest OCD behavior is that he is very picky about the way his clothes fit. I have a huge container of clothes left over from Jedi Knight, and he will hardly wear any of them. He is perpetually out of clothes to wear because I can't wash fast enough to keep up with the only two pairs of pants he will actually wear to school--and one of the pairs he will only wear sometimes.

I have a plan for working through the clothing problem, and it will give him a chance to get lots of one-on-one time with mother. But I have a terrible feeling that solving the problem will only buy us a little bit of breathing room until the next "catastrophe."

This is the kind of post "they" say you should never write, because your children will hate you for it one day. But I didn't know who else to turn to than the folks, who oddly enough, know me the best because they visit here regularly*. I want to hear about your parenting experiences with middle children, nieces, nephews and grandchildren. I want to hear about your childhood (and adult!) experiences if you are in the middle yourself. Please don't assume that if your situation isn't identical that you can't offer something useful; I'm open to anything right now. Once I get some feedback, I will do a favor to Padawan's future self and move the post off the Internet.

Help.


*Blogger's stat counter is much better than the one I was using previously. I noticed that during the summer, according to my last stat counter, that I had a huge spike in the number of daily visitors after I went to Utah. Intrigued and pleased, I was feeling very self-assured. Enter Blogger's stats in September, with very specific information on which pages are getting the hits. My number one post every day for months has been that silly piece I wrote just before going on vacation about how I should have my hair cut. Apparently, running a Google search for certain types of haircuts brings back a hit for my blog that must be in the first page or two. I've had traffic from all over the world looking for the same kind of hair style I was hoping to achieve. Needless to say, Blogger's stat counter has greatly deflated my ego. It's a good thing.

The Church Makes the World Small

Last week my Visiting Teachers were here, and one of them told one of those stories that becomes typical if you are around Mormon culture very long--somebody that she knew was a friend to somebody else that turned out to be the roommate of her cousin and this connection led to some kind of wonderful and miraculous occurrence. This wasn't exactly the situation, but you get the drill.

The inevitable, "It's a small world," comment arose from her companion and I could practically hear the music begin in the background.

But, in echo of an uncle of mine from many years ago, I contradicted, "No, the world is large. It is the Church that makes it small."

She asked me to repeat what I'd said, and then to explain it. I shared with her one of my favorite instances of this phenomenon that makes Church members often much closer than six degrees of separation. It is also the story that prompted my uncle to make the above statement that I have thought of many times since I first heard it nearly 20 years ago.

My father's family is very large: he is the oldest of ten kids. About half of them have stayed close to their small town where they all grew up; the other half have gotten "out." However, getting out only meant leaving Utah for one of them. My Uncle Sam. (I actually have an uncle Sam. Not Samuel or Samson, just SAM.) He happened to be in town one weekend when the following story was told.

Another uncle and his wife won a trip to Europe. This is the uncle that wins everything. Really. If you need someone to guess how many jellybeans are in a jar to win the hot air balloon ride at the fair, he's your man. The problem is that he and his wife had never really been outside the western US, (other than trips to Okalahoma or Iowa to watch the National College Wrestling Finals) or had much desire to do so. Still, a trip to Europe is a trip to Europe and they went. When they returned they were filled with stories of bizarre and unfriendly cultural practices. They had little positive to share from their difficult 10 days, but one shining moment stood out above all others.

Tired and hungry, they had gone to a small restaurant in Italy. It had come recommended and looked promising, but ordering was difficult. They noticed, sitting just a table or two away, a couple who looked very American, sitting with their son who was obviously finishing up a mission. With nothing to lose, and desperately hoping to hear some friendly English-speaking voices, my aunt and uncle went over and introduced themselves. They were immediately asked to join their table and enjoyed an evening of pleasant conversation, with all meal ordering done in perfect Italian.

Typical questions (Oh! You are from Utah? Which part?) became more detailed when they learned exactly what city the family was from. It turned out that the returning missionary had been on my brother's soccer team all through high school and they were quite good friends.

In a random restaurant in a small town. Thousands of miles from home. In a foreign country.

It was my turn that day to say, "It's a small world." It was a dumb thing to say, really. My world was small. I'd never spent more than a few days together outside of Northern Utah in my whole life. To which Uncle Sam, who really had seen something of the world, and knew just how lonely it can be when you leave home, told me that the world was big. Very big. The Church made it small.

I understand better now.

Like mentioning to someone we barely knew in Logan that Plantboy and I would soon be moving to Houston, only to find out that his father was the bishop of the ward into which we were moving.

Like meeting a wonderful family in Houston who had lived in one of my wards in Australia, and we spoke of people we each knew.

Like having two dear friends from very different places in my life but finding that they knew each other through a study abroad program.

Like running into friends from our Houston ward at my in-laws house in Denver. They were staying with a family member--across the street.

Like needing to obtain a last minute temple recommend while Plantboy and I were temporarily living in Parker Colorado one summer only to find out that the Stake Presidency member interviewing me was the brother of a woman I had visit taught in Texas.

Like finding friends from high school in my current city, even in my ward.

Like the man in our ward who is doing business in China over the next few months, but found a branch there because his girlfriend (in New Zealand!) happens to know a woman who attends it.

I could go on, but I won't, because if you are reading here and you are LDS, you no doubt have a story of your own. Or many stories.

I also don't mean to imply that you have to be a Mormon to make such connections. I only know that I have never been a part of any group that allows me to make such broad connections among people. Though I have lived in many different parts of the country, it is always through being LDS that I am able to find the most "coincidental" connections with people.

Maybe this is why I feel so comfortable moving as often as I have? I know that when I enter a new city and ward, I'm creating a new "family." A new circle of connections that will make me a better person if I am willing to step up and take my part in the group. I know that I will find a wonderful camaraderie of people that have common cultural bonds despite being composed of unique individuals.

It is true that I'm white and Anglo-Saxon and all of that, and probably carry my fair share of prejudices and quirks because of my racial background, but I think I am mostly LDS. It is the first culture with which I identify myself. The Church makes the world small because I have brothers and sisters in dozens and dozens of countries. Like any large family, we have our share of problems and we need to keep working on our unity and charity, but it is a pretty great thing to be a part of too.