Continuation... Still feels like a Parenting Fail...

She's been out of my home for 3 weeks now. I feel the clock ticking. I see the hands of time move. I wish she knew how precious this time is.

We have talked through Facebook, she has contacted others in this same way. Thank goodness she has talked to her big brother. I hope she talks to him more. When he went through his teenage rebellion she was so lost without him, I hope she understands that he is the same without her. They have always been so close.

Yes, my heart breaks knowing every day that I will not be seeing her when I get home; but the hurt runs even deeper knowing how worried her big brother is as well.

My first response to her was to let her know:  "It's not too late to turn it around..."

I know this. I know how strong she is. I know what things she can accomplish. But I also know that it get's harder as time goes on. Ohhhh do I know this all-too-well. Yes, from personal experience. She feels like she needs time to think things through and figure out what to do.

So, in looking back on my "Epic Parenting Fail", I have made a few notations in my mental parenting book. (after all, I've got two more to get through this...)

Although I love my eldest daughter more than is possible to put into words, I realize now that I let some things slide:

Even as they grow, even as they shy away from personal connections with parents, even as they scream that they don't need it, remember to hug your children every day.

One thing:
I used to come home from work, tired and worn down, knowing in my head the list of things I needed to accomplish before I could let my head hit the pillow. Megan would often be watching the little one's for a bit after she got home from school since they got home an hour after her. And most days she would have cleaned up, or at least straightened up the house. I excpected that this be done, as this is part of being a family and living in a home. Often, though she would complain that I never aknowledged this. Yet, I always tried to point out something she had done well.

 Imagine the different way those words could have felt to her had I taken just a moment to hug my eldest daughter. To kiss the top of her head and tell her how important she is/was to me...

I would give anything to be able to do just that...

And another thing:
My eldest children are from my first marriage. Their father and I divorced when they were about 5 and 8. I was young, mid-twenties, and started dating again. I was working two jobs, raising two kids, and I thought it was a good idea to add a romantic interest into that mix? Geeze. What was I thinking, right? There came a point when one relationship became serious. I thought I was doing it right; the kids were not introduced to him until I felt it was serious enough to be "forever"... But I should have seen that MY forever may not have been everyone else's forever... We did marry, he was great with my older kids; seemed to embrace a father-type role, and eventually (less than a year after we married) we welcomed our triplets to our family.

Sounds great, right? Well, love, or percieved love, is blind.

A month before Megan turned 17, my husband left the home. He had been her stand-in dad for 10 years. When he left, I actually felt it could be a positive thing, as our household could be more serene. But for a girl who was about to turn 17, about to start her senior year; a girl trying to figure out how to grow to an adult, this was a huge blow. 'He was my dad for 10 years mom, and he just walked away...' Add to that the fact that the people in his family that, in her words, 'so easily act like she never existed', especially as she celebrated her 17th birthday a month later. I'll never forget the pain in her voice as she told me how much it hurt that the woman she had called Grandma for 10 years didn't even aknowledge her birthday. 'Not even a card, mom. Not that I expected much, but I thought she'd send a card...' In my eyes, these were normal feelings in the face of a family split. Now, I wish I had gotten her in to talk to someone that was removed from the family. I am not all-knowledgable; I thought I could help with my talks of strength and taking the lemons life gives you and making lemonade, etc. In hindsight, I wish I had taken her to a professional to just talk out her feelings.

Imagine the pain I could have spared my daughter had I not remarried. I don't fully regret getting remarried; I am so lucky to have the children, our triplets, that came out of that relationship. But, as I start again as a single mom, that's how it will stay. Me and the kids. They do not need to be exposed to my romantic relationships, they do not need multiple people to come in and out of their lives.  Their dad is part of their lives, and by working together I am certain that they can reap the benefits of a mother and a father even while we are in separate households.

There are more regrets, more things I will change in my parenting style, but those two are the most important in my view of the recent events. Those two are the two that I have full and immediate ability to change.

Epic Parenting Fail? I don't know, but yes, it feels like it. But after all, we are human. We learn throughout our lifetime, learning is how we grow. So, by analyzing the parenting I am doing I am growing. Hopefully in the right direction...


Erika
© erikalandon 2012

Epic Fail. That's what it feels like...

Epic Parenting fail... Or just Parenting?

I am sharing this only to let anyone out there who may be going through a similar situation see that they are not alone. As a parent, I continually wonder if I am "doing it right", or if I am failing in key areas. These last two weeks have really left me wondering. Really left me doubting. Really left me reeling...

My eldest daughter is 17. Up until a couple weeks ago her grades were almost all A's. She was on track to graduate with her class, most of whom she had known and gone to school with since Grade School. She was proud of her last report card that was above a 3.0 GPA. She was helpful around the house, and watched her little brother and sister often while I worked my second job. And sometimes while I worked late at my primary job. She was proud of herself when she could make sure I came home to a clean house. She was working hard at what she needed to get done as a 17 year old....

And in an instant, or what seems like and instant, all this changed.

Her Facebook post that morning: "and here's where it all goes bad..."

I left for work that morning telling her that I would talk to her after school. She was in trouble, and I was taking her phone, the rest would be ironed out when she got home from school, and I from work. She asked for lunch money. And then asked for extra money so that her and her friend could go to Muchas Gracias at lunchtime "...'cause that's what we do on Mondays, Momma."

Yes, she still called me Momma. Up. Until. That. Day.

I called my eldest son at 6:11 that morning and asked him to wake his sister for school since I had her phone and she used that as an alarm clock. "Mom, she must have left for school already, she's not home." My mouth went dry. My mind started reeling. My heart sank.

Sank to the bottom of my stomach.

I asked him to check the yard. To check the garage. To check all the bedrooms and the closets.

He said "she's not here, mom... what happened?" 6:11 that morning. The time is oddly etched in my mind. And my heart sank again.

Sank to my smallest toe.

She was gone. She had taken off.  But I still had hope at that point. I still thought she would go to school. Graduation was just around the corner, she wouldn't do this, right?

I called the school at second period (her first scheduled class of the day). No show. Then again at third period. No show. No show all day. When I got home I checked School Wires, the site wherein I am able to instantly see attendance and grades. I had hope again: her 6th period teacher had marked her present! I called the school to verify. No - sorry Mrs. Landon, the teacher was mistaken, she is not in class. And my heart sank yet again.

Farther than my smallest toe.

Now, to understand, you need a little background. My middle daughter is my heart. She is my joy. She is my pride. She has been my everything for almost 18 years. I worried about her when I became pregnant with the triplets, as she would no longer be 'the baby'. But she held so much love for those three little babies that were so difficult to bring into this world. I worried about her when Little Eric died, but she was still so young and innocent (9 years old) that she simply understood that he was in Heaven with loved one's already passed. She learned to help care for the special needs of her little sister, she learned to deal with the ongoing special needs of her little brother. She was a rock star.

Or so I thought.

I retrospect, I can see that things were harder on her than I understood. While I was a SAHM, my focus was on getting the babies healthy enough to thrive in this world. While I thought I was able to give her extra attention she felt as though she was in the shadows. I didn't know. I revelled in her Dance team activities, in her Cheerleading ventures, in her school accomplishments. But, yes, I had two very fragile babies to care for, and I was in mourning. Mourning the loss of my precious baby boy, and the impending loss of the marriage that brought those babies into our lives.

 But even so, I thought I was doing the best for my kids...

So, last week my daughter ran away. She ran to escape. She ran to hide. She ran to restart. She ran to be with her boyfriend. She ran away. She showed up at her Dad's house 4 days later. She looked thin and needed love. But I felt that she needed to face what she had put the family through, and face her demons. I am big on personal responsibility. She came home two days later; but she had told us she would run again. She promised her sister she would watch her gymnastics meet, and she did. There were moments that Sunday in which I saw glimpses of my daughter, but those faded as she reconnected with her boyfriend on Facebook towards the end of the day. There were painful moments also, in which my daughter who had always been respectful and kind was not there. She cursed in front of her little brother and sister. She said things that were hurtful to me.

That night, as I slept with thoughts and dreams of a counselor visit in the morning and getting her back into school; she left again. I woke in the morning and once again, like in the days during the previous week, I cried so hard and deelpy; reminicent of the days after my son died, when I never knew pain could run so deep. And my heart sank...

Farther than I knew it could go.

She's been gone since Sunday night. We are entering a new weekend. A weekend wherein I miss my daughter with every part of my soul. With every part of my being. With every minute that passes.

I have spent the week looking back, looking forward, and questioning.

Was this an Epic Parenting Fail, or simply just parenting?

I don't know.


I just don't know...

(to be continued...)



Erika
© erikalandon 2012