Have you ever wondered if there was really something wrong with you? I mean, I know there are things wrong with me, I'm prone to anxiety, I'm an awful procrastinator, I cuss too much, I'm easily distracted. I have all manner of shortcomings that I'm aware of. But I wonder what I'm missing. Here's the deal. I mentioned previously that we somehow forgot to actually tell our two kids that we're planning to move to Maine. They're aged 8 and 5, so I'm not sure how much they would be able to understand, but we probably should have talked to them about it. That's not the part that gave me pause, though.
They're both totally on board. I had separate conversations with them and asked how they'd feel about living in Maine. We talked about how far away it is and how it would be really hard not getting to see all of our family and friends as often, and how they would have to start a new school and we'd have a different house. They both seem to be super excited and okay about it. Grayson, the 5 year old nearly peed his pants in excitement about snow. To them, snow is a mystical, imaginary thing. It's just as likely that candy would fall from our sky.
I know that they can't comprehend how difficult and how different it will be. I remember when my family moved from Beaumont to Baton Rouge when I was about Trevor's age. My dad was transferred with his job, so we didn't really have a choice. My Aunt Debbie and my mom just cried and hugged each other for what felt like forever while I was super impatient to get to our huge new house and my new room. I asked my Aunt Debbie why she was so sad and she said, "I'm just going to miss you so much!" I told her that we would still visit, and she said it just wasn't the same. At 8 years old my psyche just wasn't capable of handling how hard it was for my Aunt to say goodbye to us. It was something I didn't understand until I moved away briefly at the age of 26 and had to say goodbye to my niece Jenna, who I love like she is my own. It was one of the hardest things I ever did to drive away from her little two year old self. Both of those times, the distance was about four hours away. Easily driven there and back in a weekend. Maine is a 32 hour drive each way, if you don't stop to sleep. A six hour flight.
My children are excited and enthusiastically looking forward to moving. That is making me stop and think. Somehow, I found myself bringing up things like how sad it would be not to see their grandparents every weekend or how much they would miss getting to swim at their cousin's house, how we would miss a lot of birthday parties. I managed to stop before I made them (and me) cry, and then realized that their unbridled acceptance of the future move was harder for me to deal with than if they were scared or unsure. If they were uncertain or had questions, I could reassure them, which would in turn reassure me. If they wanted to know whether it would be hard starting another new school or finding new friends I would tell them that it might be, but that it would be an adventure we would all have together. For now I just worry that they are like me at 8 and will never understand until they are adults just how hard this kind of thing is. This thing I am doing by choice.
I tell myself that in this internet age I won't miss much, my kids will know their cousins via XBox live and their tiny phones that can hold the sum of all human knowledge. I have friends who live in other states, other countries, and we don't see each other often enough, but we are still actively friends. I tell myself that we will keep in touch and visit and people will visit us and all of that is true. But the reality that is also true is that it will be sad and scary and really, really challenging.
So, why am I more worried that they are happy with it? Why would I have been more confident in this decision if they had been less so? Am I seeing myself at 8 all naive and starry-eyed, not able to understand the larger implications? Do I need to reassure myself that I'm doing a good thing? That it will be worth it? Is my stubborn, contrary nature so deeply ingrained that I need resistance in order to feel validated? Or is it just the act of comforting and reassuring them makes me feel better? Like the concept of "fake it till you make it?" If I comfort and reassure them then eventually I will also be calmed and confident from believing my own encouragement?
I'm not sure of the answer there, but I hope that it means that I've raised a couple of confident and adventurous kids.
No comments:
Post a Comment