Parenting

Leading the Way

It wasn’t often that my Autistic son was able to be a leader, but when it happened, I rejoiced!

This article was originally featured in the College Park Patch, Thu, Aug 25, 2011, by Gretchen Schock and has been updated for this blog post.

The school had started, and we returned to early bedtimes and homework nightly. Spelling lists and classroom paperwork adorned our refrigerator.

My oldest has always thrived in this type of structured environment; my youngest would rather have a bit more room to wiggle.

This particular year, for the first time, both kids were going to the same school. Thankfully I was able to walk the kids to school each day, and we had a routine in place with morning drop-off.

On the second day of school, we walked into the building together, and I took the kids to the top of the hallway — our drop-off point — so they could get right in the habit of walking themselves to class. The staff didn’t like parents walking kids to their classrooms; most kids lined up outside and then went into the school by grade level.

It tended to be a bit of a madhouse.

My oldest kid is on the Autism Spectrum and would fight the urge to have a breakdown because the environment was over-stimulating. The noise and the number of people in a small space inadvertently bumping him and touching him was too much for the beginning of a school day. Because of his Individualized Education Plan, I had gotten approval to avoid the line, and I took the kids by the hands, and we headed into the school, bee-lining for our top of the hallway goodbye spot.

I would hug them, look them in the eye, and tell them, “You are going to be great!”
This was our little tradition. Every family needs those, I think — special sayings that only your family says to one another. I told my oldest, “You are going to be great,” when he began speech therapy at three years old. It’s one of the first words he could recite perfectly, and even now, if you ask him, “how are you today?” his reply, nine times out of ten, will be “great!”

As they were about to turn and head down the hallway, my youngest kid reached out for their brother’s hand and said to him, “I need to hold your hand for a few days … til I’m not nervous.”

My oldest simply replied, “Okay.”

And off they went, holding hands down the hall. I watched as they hugged and went their separate ways right at their classroom doors, which were across from each other.

These are the moments I have cherished and held close to my heart because my kids have now grown into young adults. We still have the same tradition of saying, “you are going to be great,” as they embark on a new experience. I know these will be my final words as I leave my younger child in her dorm room this coming fall. And though she doesn’t need her brother to hold her hand any longer when feeling nervous, it is reassuring that they will always be a text message away from each other.

They Grow Up So Fast

Mindfulness, Parenting

Often we don’t appreciate the parenting phase we are in when we are in it. A lesson learned from a stranger hits home.

This article was originally posted on Greenbelt Patch; it has been rewritten and updated.

When my kiddos were babies, older men and women would “ooh” and “ahh” over the handlebar of the stroller at my angelic sleeping child and often remark with a sentence that I only now understand, “they grow up so fast.” At the time, I’d kindly nod my head and smile, exhausted from lack of sleep and counting down the days to the monthly Moms Night Out when I could drink way too much and pretend I was 25 again—of course, paying for that decision for hours the next day.

One day, I was at the doctor’s office for my annual physical and having small talk with a nurse. Inevitably the conversation came to children—”Do you have any? How many? What are their ages?”

Gretchen holding the hand of her younger kid with her older one slightly off to the side. They are standing in front of Native American Powhatan longhouses.

I shared my kids’ ages, and she immediately got a nostalgic look in her eye, “Oh, that’s such a wonderful age. Legos, Star Wars…Oh, I just love that age.”

I nodded my head, “Mm-hmm.”

As a parent, you know that when you are knee-deep in any stage, you aren’t really appreciating it. I didn’t appreciate the stage when my youngest as a baby wouldn’t let anyone hold them but me—all the time! Now that they are teenagers, I have to sneak hugs and kisses in when I can.

I didn’t appreciate the stage of having to constantly hold my children’s hands. Hunched over, my back in pain, while they learned to walk. Or the sticky residue left on my hand when they needed to cross the street, or walk in a crowd. Now, I can’t even remember what age they were when they wanted to do it alone without help.

What I do remember about that stage, during the conversation with the nurse, is vacuuming another small Lego piece into my Dyson—a piece that inevitably was the all-important piece to complete the Starfighter— that also broke the Dyson and required it to be serviced. And I admit that I did not appreciate that stage.

The nurse then told me about her 20-something son and how she blinked, and he was graduating high school, she blinked and he was graduating college, and now she doesn’t see him but a few times a year. I got a little misty with her as she looked off into space, telling me—the heartbreak was apparent on her face.

She remarked that if she could go back in time, she’d put him in fewer activities. I asked her more about that because it was often a conversation among the moms on the playground: what sport will your kid play this season?

My children were not inclined to play any sports. But I felt pressure from other parents about the decision not to force my children into sports. I would get looks when I would tell the other parents that I’m not enrolling either of my children in a sport, baseball, soccer, football, or otherwise.

“They need to learn how to play on a team,” they say. “How will they learn that you can’t win every time.”

Of course, I knew that my children would learn these lessons from being in school, in summer camp, as members of a rather large family with divorce and step-relatives. We can learn how to work on a team by being members of our community, and my children are very aware that they aren’t the winners every time.

I’ll be honest—I also didn’t want to give up my Saturday standing on the side of a field in the sun. And that is exactly what the nurse mentioned—that she spent most of her son’s childhood standing around on the side of a field talking to parents that she didn’t especially like, some she did. Still, looking back, she wished that those years were spent listening to her son’s ideas, his dreams and seeing him…really seeing him.

I got it. The message was loud and clear.

I believe that people come into your life when you need them. And ten years ago, I needed this nurse. I needed her story to remind me to listen and to hear my children. To enjoy the dull, non-organized sports moments so that when I looked back on their childhoods, I wouldn’t have regrets of precious time wasted on rushing from one activity to another, eating meals on the go, and stressing about getting their homework done in time before practice.

That one encounter hugely influenced my parenting, affirming my decision around overscheduling kids and giving me a quick sneak peek into the future. I am grateful that I was able to hear her. Today as I am on the cusp of being an empty-nester and we are knee-deep in college tours and applications, every moment feels like a clock ticking in the background. The conversation with the nurse is a lovely reminder for me now; time is almost running out! How I felt back then, that desire to not miss out on their lives still rings true today. And as that clock counts down the days till both kids have flown the nest, that reminder to be present and enjoy the moments comes back to my mind. I don’t want to miss any of this!

Thank you, Nurse—they do “grow up so fast.”

The Power of a Hug

Coaching, Parenting, Wellness

Knowing how to calm your nervous system in moments of overwhelm or overstimulation is extremely important to regulate your mood and maintain a sense of inner calm.

Last weekend, we had a large party to celebrate my oldest son’s high school graduation. I loved everyone who came, and I was excited to have them all in our home and gardens. But at times, it felt like a lot of emotions and energy to absorb.

The picture is of me hugging my two teenagers. We’ve done this for years. Originally it was our response when my older son Logan, who is on the autism spectrum, became overstimulated. We’d form this hug of protection around him. The pressure of the hug on the body sends signals to the brain to calm down, telling the nervous system that everything is okay. We call it a “family sandwich.” But now, I find great comfort in reaching for them and holding them in a squeeze when I need to regulate my own emotions.

Why?

Because when we are engaging in a hug, a chemical in our bodies called oxytocin is released. This hormone is associated with happiness and less stress. It is often referred to as the “cuddle hormone.” A hug from a loved one gives us a sense of safety, comfort, and empathy. It has a powerful effect on our mental health by reducing stress, our physical health by boosting our immune system, and our emotional health by combating feelings of anxiety and loneliness.

When the world feels unsettling and overwhelming, try reaching for a hug from someone you love. Then, hold the hug for at least 30 seconds and breathe.