We are in the car driving to preschool. We round the first corner when the screaming begins. "Mommy, the sun is following me! Make it stop! Mommy? Make it stop!" demands Xavier, who is now almost 4 years old. I calmly explain that Mommy doesn't control the sun, and I offer the suggestion to use a book to shade his face. The whining and complaining goes on; but I continue to speak calmly, because to ignore him is to ask for more intensity. He will only scream louder. I sing a cheery children's song about "Mr Sun", but an attempt to change the mood only makes him angry. "STOP SINGING! I DON'T LIKE IT!" he screams. I remember when Xavier was just an infant, before we had a vehicle with tinted windows. If a gentle ray of light swept across his arm or foot, he would shriek at the top of his lungs. It didn't have to be in his eyes. He would turn wild as I observed and listened with amazement. I would ask myself, "What do I do? Why is this happening?"Spirited kids are like roses - they need special care. And sometimes you have to get past the thorns to truly enjoy their beauty. (1)
On a good day, Xavier is satisfied with a conversation about why something is a certain way. I smile knowing that my bright little boy is just sorting things out, always making life interesting. On a bad day, I can't do anything right. I feel sad. Self-doubt creeps in. Sometimes another parent will unkowingly push me past the threshold with a stare, glare, or comments as my son clutches my leg, growling and cross. When Xavier is at his worst, I sometimes cry, but it's slowly getting easier. I understand that his intensity, sensitivity, persistence, and drama are normal for his temperment. Through understanding his temperment, I can be more helpful. I don't see his intensity as a negative trait. I understand he is normal, only, more! (1) He is, at times, spectacular! He can sometimes be perceived as "difficult", but he has always just needed more than a lot of other kids. He always has. Even in the womb, he was feisty all day and all night long. He nursed far more often than a lot of babies and was alert all the time (turned on by life, I say). I like Mary Sheedy Kurcinka's metaphor for what Xavier means to me. He's the most fantastic and stunning rose in the garden - "Its blooms are so vibrant they stir my soul."(1)
1 comment:
OK Krista - You have me all emotional and in tears reading "The Sunlight Following Me"! Those exact same memories of Evan come flooding back. Just this morning on our car ride into work our two and a half year old Clara whined and complained about the sun in her eyes and Evan looked over to his little sister and gently said, "Clara, we can't move the sun so if it's bothering you just close your eyes or move your head to the side . . . like this." And Clara replied "Okay Evan" and did as her big brother suggested. Eric and I both grinned and gave each other subtle glances given our past car rides with Evan!
Over the last year we've worked hard in teaching Evan to try and understand where his "intensities" are coming from and providing him with the tools to cope with such experiences in more calming and socially acceptable ways. It can't be easy for a 4 year old to fully grasp but it seems to give him a lot of comfort in attaching a "name" to what he's feeling and a certain level of control over his own experiences. Having just turned 5, Evan now has the ability to articulate, for instance, how frustrated he is because he "really wants to get dressed but my body isn't cooperating - the seams on my socks keep bothering my toes" (after putting on his fifth pair of socks). Then he'll often ask for a hug or help or both to get him through the situation.
I have to say that life with Evan is still somewhat of a "roller coaster" ride - the downs very dreadful (well, not as dreadful anymore) and the highs very thrilling, as we're continually awed by his intense capacity for love, knowledge and life. He experiences everything so full-heartedly - never the glass half empty or half full! If all of us could be so lucky!
Mona
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