ODD mom moments

The last three weeks have been filled with minor victories and beautiful moments. There have also been a few awful, losing-control, pulling-your-hair-out stretches. I am sure that many parents are struggling right now, trying to turn this unexpected at home time into family bonding time. I am equally sure that many children are struggling. Mine included. 

After making a true and valiant effort to school my children Monday and Tuesday, I decided to embrace the wonderful spring weather and take my children hiking. 

“What a good plan!” you say.

“The children will love it!” you say.

“We all need time in nature!” you say.

Aurora did not take to the idea.

Well, that is not entirely accurate. She liked the idea of hiking. She did not like the idea of getting out of bed, getting dressed, eating, and getting in the car. I really wanted this to be a fun activity for my family and a chance to finally get out. I knew that my ideal outing would be severely challenged, however, the moment Aurora opened her eyes, looked at me, and said, “I’m still sleeping.” And then just seconds later, “Don’t leave without me.” And she rolled over and went back to sleep.

We waited. 

I was hoping to leave, hike, and return home by lunch time. I didn’t want to coordinate making lunches, keeping food cool, and dealing with hungry (and therefore grumpy) hikers. I also did not want our hike plans to coincide with those of the rest of the residents of the county. We were still determined to do our part and social distance. I knew that would be much harder if we waited too long. 

Still, however, we waited patiently. Finally, I made Aurora some breakfast, took it to her in her room, and nudged her awake. 

By the time she was awake, fed, dressed, and in the car it was 9:30. 

The fifteen minute drive to the trailhead was unadventurous unless you count Aurora screaming at Matthew to turn off the radio, screaming at Miriam to stop talking, and screaming at me for asking her to be more kind.

I contemplated just bagging the idea of a hike. Sometimes we just have to cancel things when she is being extremely difficult. We were already in the car, however, so I made the decision to proceed.

We parked and piled out of the car and began applying sunscreen. Aurora unsuccessfully tried to hide the fact that she was bringing her blanket with her on the hike. I asked her to put it in the car because blankets don’t go on hikes. Well, there was this one time we all hiked with blankets because we were unprepared for the windy, frigid air on an unexpectedly cold day in June. This day was beautiful and pleasant, however, and the added heat and weight of a blanket was just not a good idea. A battle commenced, and mom was victorious. This was at a great price, however. For now Aurora was even more disgruntled and contrary. 

As we walked from the parking area to the trailhead, Aurora purposefully lagged behind at a slow trudge. We stopped and read the signs so that we would be sure to go the right direction. A small sign at the bottom said, “Dogs must be leashed.”

“Why didn’t we bring Finn?” Aurora asked in an accusatory tone.

“Well,” I began, “I am not sure Finn can hike as far as we are going. He is a bit lazy. And I didn’t want the trouble of another thing to take care of.” (Same reason I didn’t allow the blanket, actually.)

Ignoring my comment about how far Finn can hike, Aurora stated, “I would have taken care of him.”

“Sorry,” I shrugged. We were ready to get started, and any talk about bringing the dog was pointless. We had not brought him.

“Go home and get him,” Aurora demanded.

I smiled, “Let’s get going.”

We headed up the trail, Aurora bringing up the rear. Every few minutes the other kids and I would stop and wait for her to catch up. Thankfully, my other children were enjoying the chance to observe insects, unusual rock formations, and the view so much that they didn’t complain…for the most part. We were having a good time! Most of us, that is.

“Every time I catch up, you all start walking again,” Aurora cried out. “When do I ever get a break? That’s not fair.” 

Many responses went through my brain, most of them sarcastic remarks about “fairness”. Sarcasm, however, was not the way to deal with Aurora. 

“Would you like a break?” I asked with a smile. “We can wait.” Under my breath I muttered, “Again.” So maybe I let a smidge of sarcasm out, but I did it quietly. 

We started up again after about a minute. And after about one more minute, Aurora grumbled, “Are we almost there?”

I sighed and smiled, “Probably. How about we take some pictures up at the next rest point?” The redirection seemed to help. After the next stop, Aurora started in the back again, but seemed to convince herself of something and jumped to the front. She led the group to the destination.

“I see the bridge!” Miriam shouted in excitement. Aurora looked up.

“Yeah, I knew that was there,” she said matter of factly. But she, too, looked excited. 

We stopped and took some more photos, looked at the beautiful scenery, and thoroughly enjoyed the entire way down the mountain. She had decided to be happy, and she was. 

On two other occasions these last two weeks I noticed this same shift in Aurora’s level of anger. These instances occurred so quickly that I probably would not have noticed if it had been any of my other children. I watched as Aurora boiled over in anger at something a sibling said, yelled, and then stopped herself. I saw her physically close her eyes, calm herself, and try speaking nicely. 

I recognize that this is something that many children learn while they are still quite a few years younger than Aurora. However, I cannot recall more than two times in her entire life when she stopped herself from yelling at anyone. For her, this is huge. For me, this is a drop of hope.

I was listening this week to the YouTube channel called Don’t Miss This, and something that Emily Belle Freeman said really stuck with me (https://youtu.be/cPDW6guPVDs). She was speaking about dealing with Hashimoto’s disease and the slow, very slow progress that she made. She compared her experience with a verse from the Book of Mormon. The people in the story had been beaten in war. They had been enslaved. They prayed for deliverance. They were not delivered. The verse is found in Mosiah 21:6 and says, “And it came to pass that they began to prosper by degrees in the land.” Emily compared that to her fight with Hashimoto’s in which she was not delivered, as in the disease was not cured or taken away, but that very slowly she was able to get help and see tiny improvements.

This is us. This is me and my beautiful daughter. I have prayed for deliverance. I have prayed for the miracle. A “cure” is not part of our story, however. We are “prospering by degrees”. And it is slow. And it is hard. But, by golly, this girl is making those baby steps. 

I just want to shout out to everyone, “My daughter stopped herself from yelling at her siblings!” Even I can see, though, that this sounds ridiculous. So I will do my little happy dance within the confines of my home…far away from anyone because, you know, social distancing…and just thank God that this child is prospering by degrees.