An Unflattering Admission

Yesterday, my little guy wanted to video chat with someone. One set of grandparents was moving, and the other set had a special visitor (new great grandbaby!). We called Aunt Sister. She was in the car, but opened the call and left the phone sitting in its mount so Mal could see his cousins and chat for a bit.

Sarah was taking the three teenagers to their Wednesday night activities, and it was a little chaotic. There was apparently a crane fly in their car, and TJ, sitting behind Hannah, was messing with her, making her freak out that she was under attack by the insect. The kids were giving Sarah a hard time about her poor driving skills, and saying that 17-year-old permitted driver Hannah is a better driver than their mom.

After a few minutes, I started getting... what? Irritated? I thought, "They're obviously busy; this is an unnecessary call. I'm going to hang up."

But why was is chafing me?

I thought a bit and realized: I was jealous. 

This sneaks up on me every once in a while, and I hate it. But it's true: When I see parents, and especially my contemporaries who have kids I've watched grow up alongside mine, having fun with their teen kids, sometimes, just sometimes, it stings. And I wish it didn't.

I've written about D's anxiety before, and how I don't think my child is "broken" or needs "fixing." It's true that I never had a mental picture of life in the future, in terms of a wedding or children or career... But, to be perfectly transparent, I also never foresaw a time when we would not be close.

Okay, we're close in the sense that I'm literally the only person to whom D talks. But anxiety has made my child a ghost, only appearing when necessary. We don't "hang out." D is very easily distracted by stressors, so when Mal is awake, it's pretty much a non-starter. James and I have gotten used to talking (and listening) over him; D can't do it. D has explained that this is one reason for the nocturnalism. If there is too much noise or light or stimuli, there is no focus. 

So we're learning to accommodate these things, and usually, and especially with a toddler, most of the time, I can just deal without becoming morose. But then...

One of the ways my family of origin shows affection is teasing. And we laugh. A lot.

But it's been more than three years since I've been able to joke around with D. The book "The Highly Sensitive Child" helped me understand this better, but it's been a learning curve. Things I could have said half a decade ago now bring tears, and I am always thrown off by what is upsetting that I just did not anticipate.

It's very difficult to maintain a real relationship that doesn't include some jocularity. It's easy, in my self-focus, to be personally offended by the cringing away from hugs or touches. And although I wouldn't want my kid to be anything "different," I suppose that, also in my selfishness, I would love for our relationship to be more... friendly? Warm? Open?

In fact, the other day, D made a Wod-Fam-Choc-Sod, a vestige from our "Adventures in Odyssey" days. It was legit; looked like something that would be served at a commercial establishment. So I asked if I could take a picture of it (in D's presence, as opposed to the cake-things I've photographed and posted before). "Are you going to post it online?" "I might. Unless you'd rather that I didn't." "I do. I don't know why, but..."

So. It could be a lot worse. There could be rebellion, acting out, disrespect, or self-harm. I can't be angry with D, because it's not intentional. But I'm sad enough at times to be mad, so I guess I turn that into a sour-grapey "well, great for you and your freaking happy family." Which is not how I feel, for real. I don't wish anxiety or paranoia or any of those things on anyone else. I do realize that I have a precious soul to help try to protect until it can go out into the world on its own... And thank goodness we're still years away from that because... we're YEARS away from that.

Again, one might wonder why I'm even writing about this. First, because it helps me. I need it to be out there. If I am ever less than charming with you, maybe it'll help you understand why. Second, because it might help someone else? Give someone a little encouragement that they're not alone? Help some parent to realize that even a mouthy kid... well, at least they're talking to you? I'm grateful that my kid trusts me. I might mourn circumstance, but I rejoice that the children I have are mine.