Dream New Dreams (22 page)

Then suddenly the merry-go-round stopped spinning. The children and I felt a little dizzy, a little unbalanced in the aftermath of Randy’s death. The buzz of activities we were strangely used to was now a hum instead of a roar. Visitors stopped coming to our house.
The phone didn’t ring quite as often. This slowdown naturally happens after someone passes away, but it is an adjustment phase for the family left behind. Ours was no different. We were living in transition, trying to find our new normal.

Transitions are always difficult, whether you’re adjusting to a death in the family, unemployment, retirement, divorce, or any other major life change. For me, the transition was multilayered. I was grappling with widowhood, grief, single parenthood with three small children, and my new unemployment as a caregiver. I know
unemployment
sounds like a strange word, but caring for Randy had been my job, my focus, and a large part of my daily routine for two years. During this time, I had a lot of help with the children. Now that role and routine were gone. What was left was a void I had to face and fill. I had to create a new routine with my children, just as I was doing on a larger scale with my life.

Though I was grieving for my husband and reeling from his absence, I never let our everyday life come to a standstill. I didn’t feel I had the luxury of lying in bed, nursing my sorrow and focusing only on myself. For Dylan, Logan, and Chloe, I kept putting one foot in front of the other, balancing my needs with theirs. This feeling of responsibility for them has had nothing but an upside for me, keeping me anchored in the world of the living and able to feel their love and experience their joy. I’ve never lost sight of the fact that my children are one of my many blessings. Because of them, I have learned how boundless love can be. My love for them makes me want to be the best person I can be, as well as a good parent. In teaching them kindness and how to be courteous to others, I’ve relearned these essential lessons myself. I feel highly motivated to help them be happy and well adjusted, to give them experiences that allow them to learn about their world, and to instill in them the
values Randy and I shared. I could not—and would not—let them down as their only parent in the wake of their father’s death.

My children challenge me to meet my lofty parenting goals every day. As a rule, my kids wake up ready to go at six o’clock in the morning, if not earlier. They’re energetic and physical, so we get moving and do a lot before most people are out of bed. The downside to their energy is that they totally wear me out, especially when I’m in the backyard playing hide-and-seek and other games with them. There isn’t a second parent to tag team with when I get tired.

After a full day of activities with me, the children no longer had Randy’s homecoming after work to divert their attention. They missed having him come home and take an interest in their day, talking with them and looking at their art or schoolwork. Instead, the children vie aggressively for my attention. Dylan and I were talking recently when he was home from school sick and no one else was around to interrupt us. I asked him what it was like from his perspective to have one parent raise him. As he put it, now “There’s one source of energy in the family: Mom. The three power plants want the energy. We have to share. If it’s not distributed equally, the power plant needing more energy would send out calls and Mommy would notice because of the fighting.”

Dylan speaks just like his father—he even uses analogies like him! More to the point, he realizes that fighting with each other is a way to get my attention. Sometimes children will make bad choices to force an adult to interact with them, even if that interaction is negative. Perhaps they wanted my attention because I had been so caught up in Randy’s care that they felt neglected. Perhaps they were dealing with the loss of their father and the changes in their lives by acting out with each other. Regardless of the reason, it made parenting even more difficult. One of my family members
even took me aside and told me people were talking behind my back about how ill-behaved my children were. Well, that didn’t make me feel very good, to say the least! I could blame myself and lose faith in myself as a parent, but I realize those folks only see my children for a fraction of the time I do. To the contrary, I’ve seen a huge improvement in their behavior. The trauma they went through obviously had a big impact on them, but they’ve readjusted and acclimated. They’ve also matured as they’ve aged, which has helped as well.

Another big help was Rachel, who stayed with us for about six months after Randy died. This gave the children a sense of continuity. It also enabled me to adjust to my new situation. However, the time finally arrived, the day I had dreaded, when Rachel was ready to move on with her life. She had come to help us while she was in a period of transition herself, trying to figure out a different, more fulfilling career. We assumed we would need her help for about a year, given Randy’s three-to-six-months prognosis. But when Rachel told me she had decided to be a teacher and was enrolling in education classes, I found myself both scared and shaken. I wasn’t prepared to lose yet another person in my life, as well as the only partner I now had in raising my children. There were several issues in play here. It wasn’t a question of finances. Randy had encouraged me to keep a nanny for some time after he had passed, just to make our lives more manageable since he would no longer be there to help out. We looked at our finances and budgeted for the child-care expense. The real issue for me was that someone to whom I had become close was now leaving our daily lives. I was experiencing another loss. I didn’t have the heart to try to replace her because I couldn’t bear to bring another person into the privacy of our home to become close to us and then leave us after a while. I didn’t want
to be hurt anymore by people coming and going from my life, and I definitely didn’t want the children to go through a series of caretakers coming in and out of their lives. I worried about attachment issues for them. Then there was the blatant criticism I got from friends and family; the message I heard was that I was a bad mom for having child-care help.

With my decision made, I still worried how I would manage alone. When would I get a much-needed break or a little time for myself without regularly scheduled child care? I questioned how I would manage when the children got sick and needed extra attention and I had to function sleep-deprived for days. In the fall of 2008, for example, the children came down with hand, foot and mouth disease, the stomach flu, and a random virus that brought on high temperatures. And that was in the three months before winter set in and the cold and flu season officially started. I wasn’t sure I would have the endurance and energy during those times to care for them without a partner or regularly scheduled help. Of course, I still had my family and friends to lean on in emergencies, which I did. Once I had to call my brother Bob at six o’clock in the morning after stomach flu traveled through everyone in the house and finally made its way to me. To his credit, Bob was at my house in fifteen minutes and stayed with us for most of the day, allowing me to rest and recover. But helpful friends and family were there for emergencies, not for me to call when I needed a nap because I had been up all night or when I wanted to go to the gym to work out. With our nanny leaving, yet another aspect of my life was in transition.

Shortly after Rachel left, I found a woman who could come every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon to watch the children for me. I also developed a long list of high school and college students whom I could call on, though I quickly learned that trying to find a high
schooler who was free on a weeknight so I could attend a parent-teacher conference was a project in and of itself. Another downside was that my young children had to adjust to many different people, with different personalities and ways of doing things. And that would not bring out the best in their behavior.

Moreover, I was struggling with the extra demands that complicated everyday life. I felt like a sailor who had learned the basics of sailing and then went out on a boat and battled stormy seas. I needed calm, stable waters until I had my sea legs under me. But life doesn’t wait, and I had to meet whatever challenges came my way. One of the earliest and in some ways most common challenges was juggling the children’s schedule. Making sure everyone has their homework done and done correctly, plus staying on top of the extracurricular demands—special projects, field trips, and sports—takes a great deal of energy and attention. In the spring of 2008 when Randy was very ill, Dylan started playing soccer. He played the next season after Randy had passed away, but I found it too draining to try to watch him while entertaining the two little ones on the sidelines. Logan wanted to play a sport as well, but I didn’t know if I could manage the usual schoolwork routine, plus two different practice and game schedules. Luckily, we found a compromise by choosing an activity both boys could enjoy: Tae Kwon Do. By now, in the spring of 2010, Chloe was three and was content to play for forty-five minutes while the boys practiced. Soon, though, the boys were at different belt levels, which meant different class schedules. We were now struggling to make the recommended three Tae Kwon Do classes a week, which was difficult and stressful for everyone. Dylan had also added violin lessons to his schedule, which were given at his school after classes were over. Once a week, Chloe and I would drive the thirty minutes to school and meet the boys. On days with good weather,
they would have a snack and play on the school playground. Dylan would have his thirty-minute lesson while we remained outside. After his lesson was over, we would pile into the car and get home by five p.m. Tasked with getting the children to school in the morning, picking Chloe up by one p.m. and the boys by four, and then starting the after-school activity schedule, I felt I was constantly on the run. By Christmas 2010, I found myself losing my temper more often and feeling depressed. I struggled to keep my head above water. My brother suggested we cut out some commitments to reduce the time demands. Dylan put violin lessons on hold, and the boys went to Tae Kwon Do class only once a week. I felt so guilty that I couldn’t give the children the opportunities to play sports or learn musical instruments. It made me feel like a failure as a mom.

Finally a friend pulled me aside and told me she was concerned about me. We talked about what was bothering me, and she suggested I look into getting someone to help with the children and their schedule. She suggested an au pair, who would live with us in exchange for room and board and pocket money. At first I thought getting child-care help again would be an admission that I was less of a mother. But I had these children with my husband who had committed to raising them with me. Randy once calculated that he helped me with child care about sixty hours a week. He had strongly encouraged me to keep some child care in place after he had passed in order to help fill the gap created by his absence. After Rachel left, I thought I would be able to do it all on my own, but that effort came at a high price—a price I wasn’t willing to pay. I wasn’t the best parent I could be—far from it. I wanted to be a better parent, and I wanted our lives to be better.

I took my friend’s advice and hired an au pair. She helps me in the morning to get the children dressed, fed, and driven to school.
While they are in school, she takes a class at a local university. In the afternoon, we divide the responsibilities of picking up the children from school, helping with their homework, supervising or playing with them, getting the laundry done, and making dinner. After dinner, she goes out with her friends, does her homework, or hangs out with my family. The children have really enjoyed having her with us. They like helping her learn English and hearing about her country and its culture. I have seen a huge improvement in my energy and happiness. I don’t feel worn down all the time. I smile more and am more easygoing.

I still miss having Randy here, though, to help me raise our children. Even though I now have help with the kids, I no longer have the man with whom I can talk over issues and make decisions. Randy’s analytical strength was unparalleled, and I had come to lean on him for his insights. As a professional people manager, he was great at handling irksome situations. His skills were finely honed from running a research group and teaching classes where people learned how to work in teams. One of the greatest techniques he taught me was to start off a conversation needed to convey one’s displeasure over a particular occurrence by acknowledging something positive the person did. I, on the other hand, am not the best people manager. I’ve learned how to distract little children when they try to put their fingers in light switches. For a more complex situation, like confrontation for example, I’ve had to work hard to develop a skill set. My natural inclination is to get emotional rather than stay rational and calm. I found myself in just this situation this past summer when I wanted the boys to participate on a local swim team. I thought that would not only improve their swimming skills, but also give them the opportunity to make new friends. It would also add some structure to those endless summer days. Dylan flat-out
refused, saying he didn’t want to do it and I couldn’t make him. I was flabbergasted that he would challenge my authority. I was raised by a marine corps drill instructor and a hard-core disciplinarian, so the parental role model I had was not one I wanted to emulate. I didn’t immediately respond to Dylan’s statement on an emotional level, which is a testament to the effort I’ve made to think first and react later. First I tried to explain the reasons for his joining the swim team. Still Dylan resisted. I remained steadfast in my decision and took him and Logan to the pool for practice. Most of the time, Dylan got in and swam without giving me any pushback, but there were one or two mornings when the water was cold and he put up a fuss. Somehow I believe Randy would have handled this situation better than I did. Maybe that’s raising him up on a pedestal, but I think he would have worked some magic, said the right words, and Dylan would have been more than happy to get in the cold water every June morning to swim.