Fourteen

Dear Lucy, 

You are about to be fourteen years old. Just writing that makes me want to cry a little bit. As you know, each year I write a little something for birthdays, and I always go back to read what I’d written the year before to see what has changed since then. Last year when you turned 13, I had my friends (and your little group of other mothers) write you a little something about becoming a teenager. I love that they gave you their own little pieces of advice, and when I read what I wrote to you, it made me so happy because I think you are truly taking some of what we told you to heart. 

You don’t mind being different from other kids. You aren’t afraid of being exactly who you are, and you don’t apologize for that. You wear the clothes you want (even the “mom jeans” with the high waistbands that I secretly think are awesome) and you listen to the music you like, without apology. This year there’s been a lot of Billie Eilish, and also a lot of the Beatles. Two musical sounds that couldn’t be more opposite. I love coming upstairs to hear you playing one of my old Beatles albums. It reminds me of being a teenager and discovering that music for the first time. It was like an entire universe was being opened for me at that time, through that music, and I love that you’re finding that, too. Just last weekend we were in the car, and you were putting music on a playlist for us to listen to, and as I sat next to you I thought, “Man. She is her own person now with her own tastes.” And while you might read that and say, “DUH, mom” that moment truly struck me. This is what any parent wants for her child, to grow up to be strong and have ideas of her own…and that is exactly what is happening to you. 

The thing is? You choosing the clothes you wear and the stuff you like? I think kids actually want to hang out with you even MORE because of that. You are so funny. You have comedic timing that I am so proud of. That might sound weird, but the ONE thing I think human beings must have to be successful members of society is a good sense of humor. I honestly worried a little bit before I had you two that my kids wouldn’t be funny. Being funny is maybe the number one trait I look for in people I want to be friends with, and I worried that you two might not get that. Turns out, that was a completely unfounded worry, because both you and your sister are hilarious. You, however, have a knack for timing. For dropping a comment at just the right moment, and that, sweet girl, is a gift. You do weird voices and accents like you were born in those countries. I don’t know if it’s because you are also fluent in French and have been surrounded with people from other countries and cultures your whole life, but that, too, is a gift, and never fails to make me laugh. 

In less than three days, you will leave with your eighth grade class to go to New Orleans for a week long service project. I’m so excited for you. And you, in true Lucy fashion, are worried sick about it. “Nervous-cited” is what you like to call it.  I know that once you get on that bus, you will relax and have a wonderful time. I would like to go on this trip – you’re going to do so many cool things in a city I’ve always wanted to visit!  And? You get to spend your 14^th birthday in the French Quarter with your friends. How great is that? Being away from you on your birthday will be weird, but you should know that as you get older, you may spend less of your actual birthdays with your family. Birthdays can and should last for at least a week, don’t you think? We’ll more than make up for it upon your return. I am certain that this trip will change you in some way. I was 17 when I traveled to Spain with my dance group. In hindsight, there are things about that trip that I would have changed, but being away from my parents and traveling with my friends changed who I was. It boosted my confidence. It made me more independent. It made me know I could get around in this huge world. I know I was a little older, but I suspect you’ll have a similar experience. 

And then? You’ll be off to high school. You have so much amazing stuff coming for you. I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself, but I’m already excited to look back in a year and see what your 14^th year brought for you. New school, new friends, new teachers and experiences. I am beyond excited to see you navigate the next year of your life. And, once again, I need you to know how proud I am to be your mama. You’re a good friend, a good humanitarian who believes strongly in justice and inclusion, and you don’t act like a shitty teenager (at least not yet!), and I’m just so thankful that I get to watch you grow into this amazing person you’ve become. Happy birthday, Lu. I sure do love you.

Mama

Twelve

Tomorrow is Zoe’s twelfth birthday. TWELVE. Twelve is one of those weird ages. It’s the in-between…part teenager, part child. Zoe is definitely a little of both, not equally in either camp, which is just fine with me. This has been a good year for all of us, and Zoe has really begun to show who she is going to be when she’s older. She is kind, and thoughtful, and respectful and accepting of every human she spends time with. More people could stand to have the same qualities, and I could not be more proud of her if I tried.

Zoe has chosen friends who are, for lack of a better term, the misfits. She is much like her mama in this regard, and I love that she doesn’t care one bit what people think of her social choices. This year was a little sad at school when a friend that she’s known since preschool moved to another school. I don’t think even I knew how much it upset her until recently I saw an email between the two girls. “I miss you SOOOO much!” “You’ll always be my best friend even if we don’t see each other every day!” Zoe has a lovely sense of loyalty to her people, which is a wonderful way to be.

Zoe still loves to cook and often helps in the kitchen at home, but this year has been the year of anime and cosplay. She has read all of the anime comics she can get her hands on, and she’s OBSESSED with My Hero Academia. Sometimes we have conversations about this show and about halfway through, I realize I have absolutely ZERO clue what we’ve been talking about. For her birthday this year, Zoe is going to the Planet Comic Con with her dad and Lucy. She’s invited a friend who has never attended such a spectacle, and she’s spent lots of time talking with her friend about what to expect so she’s not overwhelmed. What a sweet friend Zoe is.

The part of Zoe that is still a child loves to snuggle and when I say I love her, she always says, “I love you more” and then my response is always “I know!” which cracks both of us up. The almost-teenager part of Zoe stays in her room a lot. She slams doors when she’s frustrated. She tells me that I don’t understand her. I see a lot of myself in her, for sure. But she’s also full of her own weird and wonderful personality, and a stubbornness that will one day serve her well.  Maybe it already does. This much I know: Zoe knows who she is and what she likes. She is unapologetic about it, and I am so excited to see what her twelfth year brings to her.

Doing the Work.

Last night in my best friend’s kitchen, our eighth grade girls were talking to us about a party that happened last weekend. Their mom and I had heard about the party, and were asking the girls what they knew. It got us talking about how naïve we both were when it came to things 14 year olds were doing.  Don’t get me wrong – I’m not stupid. I was a teenager once who tried plenty of things. I just don’t have one of those teenagers, at least not yet, anyway. What came up in this conversation over and over, and again later when Lucy wanted to talk more about it, were girls who were sending photos to boys. Either on their own accord, or sometimes when they were “being blackmailed” as the girls’ put it. It led to conversation about consent. It led to talk about how what you put out on the internet could ALWAYS come back to haunt you.  But mostly it led to a conversation about self-respect. People who respect you will not “blackmail” you for a photo of your body. People who have your best interest in mind will not ask you to do ANYTHING you don’t want to do. And if you have respect for yourself? You’ll tell those kids to fuck off when they ask for things you KNOW are wrong. Lucy suggested that maybe these girls weren’t getting attention other ways. We talked at length about people’s needs, and the need some girls feel to be seen. Especially in these days of instant gratification and social media.

Mostly, when Lucy went to bed last night I sat and thought about how the girls sending these kinds of photos AND THE BOYS RECEIVING THEM were likely not having these kinds of conversations with their parents. It made me think about the college admissions scandal and about the things we parents value in this country.  Recently, I took a personality quiz and one of the questions was something along the lines of “would you rather your child be kind or incredibly successful”? Kind. Duh. I’ve known a lot of people in my life. I’ve traveled many places and I’ve worked in jobs from retail, to the service industry, to arts to education, and I’ve learned that all the success in the world means nothing if you’re an asshole. Just look at your president. Sadly, though, this isn’t how the world works most of the time. People would rather have success and fame (or being “seen”) over being kind and doing the right thing.

We’d rather pay millions of dollars to get kids into college than to expect that they might actually work hard for it, or even maybe admit that they shouldn’t go to college if that’s not what they’re cut out to do. We’d rather post photos of our smiling kids on social media and tell all our friends about how amazing they are, but then never check their phones, know who their friends are, or have conversations with them about how sexting at 14 is NOT OK. EVER. Most people don’t want to do the hard work of parenting, because it’s just that: hard. We don’t want to have conversations that make us uncomfortable because that’s hard, too. Guess what else is uncomfortable and hard? Hearing that teenage girls you’ve known their whole lives are sending photos of their bodies to young boys. Mothers and fathers: do yourselves a favor and ask the hard questions. Get to know your kids. And by all means, get to know their friends.

No one ever really had these conversations with me, at least not in the ways that I’m having them with the girls. And I don’t know if it’s because I wasn’t outwardly told to be assertive or strong, or if it’s just who I was as a teenager, but I did a lot of things for the sake of being seen. Stupid and shitty things. I hung out with the wrong people because I thought it would make me popular, or worse, I didn’t want to say “no” or stand up for myself and look stupid. I listened to offensive jokes without stopping them. I allowed people to take advantage of my low self-esteem. Most days I wish I could go back and punch that Kate in the face. But other times, like now, I like to recall those days and remember why it’s important to me to talk with the girls about this kind of stuff. Times have changed, but people really haven’t.

Tres Años

Three years ago today I started working at the job I currently have. I was just thinking about the way I spent my morning three years ago, and about how much that has changed in the time that has followed. Three years ago I left my children in the wee hours of the morning with my dad so that I could be at work on time. I hadn’t ever done that before. I hadn’t ever worked a full-time job during their lifetime, and I had NO IDEA how to navigate any of it. I was terrified. I was scared about being the new person, and I was scared about how I would juggle things. I was completely overwhelmed by the thought of getting the girls where they needed to be, finding someone to watch them for the days I worked late, who would pick them up if they got sick? All of those things are now old hat – and partially made easier because they’re 3 years old and a whole lot more self-sufficient.

This year has been the year I’ve felt the most confidence in my work. I truly feel like I know what I’m doing here now. I am familiar and comfortable with the language we use, and I am confident talking with both teachers and with families about the high-quality care that we are providing to children. I can tell you where to go in our agency when you need something. I can tell you about resources for families who might need something beyond our scope, and where to direct teachers who are looking to expand their professional knowledge. I’ve learned how to navigate state and federal systems that are flawed or broken.  And? I have learned how to shut some of the stuff off when I leave here at night. But not all of it.

This year has been perhaps the hardest in that area. Maybe it’s because of the trauma informed care focus we’ve had in our professional development this year. Maybe it’s because now I know what secondary trauma is and what compassion fatigue is. In a meeting with our mental health consultant a few weeks ago, she said to me, “You know you have compassion fatigue, right?” And I laughed at her, until I read more about it, and now I know I am a walking example of it. If you want to know more about compassion fatigue, what it looks like, or ways to combat it, please go here: http://www.compassionfatigue.org/

 

I have zero patience anymore for people who can’t take perspective with the work we do here with children and families. By no means do I expect anyone who hasn’t worked in this field to completely understand it, I just mean that it’s very hard for me to talk with people who can’t believe people actually SUCCEED while living in poverty. Here at work I’ve become the squeaky wheel. I know what I’m doing now enough to know when it’s important to speak up, and when it’s important to consider other options or paths to take in the work we do. I’ve found that squeakiness trickling into my personal life as well. I can’t stay quiet when someone talks about systems they don’t know anything about. The whole “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” talk that clueless people like to give? Don’t say that around me. Ever. That kind of talk is from people who have never had to pull their shit together without a single resource. I’ve found this very conversation makes me furious and also incredibly sad at the same time.  

Maybe it’s because after three years, I know these families and feel a connection with them far deeper than I ever thought I would when I walked through these doors for the first time three years ago. I’ve watched new babies from current families enter our program, and I’ve seen the older children leave here and start kindergarten. I’ve watched families work through immigration issues. I’ve known families who have been directly affected by this administration’s ridiculous policies. I have learned of births, and deaths, of marriages, and of murders. I have heard stories from the mouths of children that you either wouldn’t believe, and especially that you wouldn’t wish on anyone, especially a child. I’ve learned how to leave some of what happens here at work at the end of the day, and yet, there are bigger things I will never be able leave behind when I walk out of these doors at night. There are things that have changed me as a human being, and that’s just fine with me.