The Kids Are Not All Right

My DS has been having a bit of trouble lately - full of emotion but with no real outlet for it, so we've had several of those phone calls from his school. Not the kind of phone calls one wants to get, and certainly not the sort one wants to get several days in a row.

This past week he had a pretty terrible, emotional week - which on Friday afternoon culminated in he and I sitting on the edge of my bed, holding onto one another for dear life while he cried his beautiful blue eyes out. Way back in July, DH and I sat the kids down and explained what happened with the whole job thing. We explained pretty well what was going to happen, what changes our household would need to go through, and what we expected the outcome to be. What we didn't do is reassure them that everything would be okay. I guess we got so caught up just in the facts and process of it all, "...so Dad will be doing more school drop offs and Mum will be taking on a second job..." that we sorta forgot to just hug them and tell them the lie all parents are required to tell - that everything will be okay, truly. We promise.

As my dear sweet boy sat there sniffling and crying, I had a parenting light bulb moment. "Boy," I said, "Boy - are you worried about the whole Daddy job thing?" To which his reply was to nod his head vigorously while it was buried in my chest, and cry even harder than he was before.

A-ha. Suddenly all the pieces made sense. THIS would be why his teachers tell me he has not been his usual communicative self since July. This would be why he is wandering around frustrated and impatient and angry. This is why my boy has gone from what his Nana calls 'sweetness and light' to bitterness and irritation. This is because I didn't take the time to just tell him IT'S GOING TO BE OKAY.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I buggered this parenting thing up MAJORLY.

So we sat there, and I explained to him that we would be okay. That he would still live in his room, and have enough food to eat, and a school to go to, and people to love him, and Scouts to attend, and books to read...and that worrying was for the parents to do, not the kids. I straight out told him that *I* am a little worried too, but that I know we'll be okay and that HIS life will remain as okay as it ever was. I did say we had to get rid of a few small luxuries, but that on the whole we are a family, and we will pull together and we will be OKAY. I just held my boy and I promised him that we would take care of him and his sisters and that NOTHING would ever get in the way of that. I reassured him as much as I could that all will come good in the end. Truth be told, I have no idea if we're going to be okay...but my boy needed to hear it, and I forgot to say it all those months ago. So I said it, and I hugged him some more, and I listened to him cry and I prayed for my heart not to break for this little boy who is so full of worry and frustration.

Gradually he calmed down - and in the day and a half since, I would swear I am living with a different boy. This one is smiling. This one is walking just that little bit taller. This one did not pick up a book and hide in it for even one minute today. This boy laughed, and laughed, and laughed... at a funny website and a funny TV show and at his Mum tickling him on the couch. This boy did not complain endlessly, cry in frustration, get mad or let his sisters get the better of him. This boy did not lash out physically, and this boy ---this boy, THIS IS MY SON.

At the end of our conversation, I asked him if he had any questions for me - was there anything he wanted or needed to know about the situation? "Yes," he said, wiping his streaming eyes, "Will you always comfort me when I need it?" He was totally serious, and so this time I told him what I believe to be true - that today, and tomorrow, and every single day until my dying day (and even probably a little bit after that, too), I will comfort him when he needs it. He just doesn't quite realise how much comfort he gives me in return, but I suspect that's a lesson for another day.