Look, Mom, no anxiety!

The other night as I was putting Paul to bed, he looked over at me and excitedly said, "Hey, Mom, guess what? I got rid of my anxiety!" If a 5-year-old talking about anxiety sounds strange to you, let me explain. When Paul was in the throes of feeling majorly fearful about starting kindergarten, Mark and I did some reading. We came across an article that recommended referring to anxiety by its actual name and encouraging kids to "tell their anxiety to be quiet." So we told Paul that when he felt afraid of something, he should ask himself if it was indeed something scary and if it wasn't, he should tell himself that it was anxiety talking and that it needed to be quiet.

Whether our techniques helped or if it was just simple repeated exposure to his fears that helped alleviate the problem, I'm not sure. What I do know is that the kid has come a long way. From the time he started preschool, Paul had major separation anxiety. I'm not just talking tears when it was time for me to leave. I'm talking big tantrums with snot coming out his nose and sometimes him clinging to me and running after me as I left. Last year, his second year in preschool, was better but still not great. Needless to say, I anticipated a pretty bumpy start to full-day kindergarten.

What I got instead was an unbelievably pleasant surprise. Paul has done a 180. He goes to school happily every day. I thought taking the bus home would be a big problem, but after one or two days of angst, his bus ride home is now one of his favorite parts of the day. And I've not only seen changes in how he feels about school. I've watched him become much less fearful in general and more independent. I still can hardly believe the transformation.

Maybe Paul could teach me a thing or two. Believe me, I know anxiety. I've been a worrier and an obsessive over-thinker for as long as I can remember. Anxiety is such a pernicious little bugger. Rationally, I know that worrying does me no good and in fact can take a real toll. Knowing that, however, does nothing to release its grip on me when I'm going through an anxious period. I've lost whole days and even weeks consumed with worry. The good news is that my anxiety ebbs and flows. I go through anxious periods, and then my brain just eventually realizes that whatever I'm worried about isn't a real threat and I'm free of it, at least until some other worry creeps in.

After years of dealing with angst, I've come to accept that it's just a part of me, and I've learned to cope with it. I try to eat right, I exercise, I try to take some quiet time each day. And when things are really challenging, I take a deep breath and go back and read this quote from Marcus Aurelius: "Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, if you have to, with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present."

Phew, all this talk about anxiety has me worried about exactly what genes I'm passing down to my kids. No, that's just the anxiety talking. Be quiet now.

What I'm thankful for

It can be easy to lose sight of the fact that if you live here, chances are you are abundantly blessed compared to the majority of the rest of the world. That's one of the many things I love about Thanksgiving: it gives me an opportunity reflect.

I'm endlessly thankful for my husband. A better partner I could not find. He is a kind, loving, smart man, and, most importantly for me, he puts up with all my neuroses. And while I'm on Mark, I'm thankful for his job that is fulfilling for him and allows him to provide for our family. I'm lucky to be able to say that. I know that so many are struggling right now.

I'm thankful for my kids. They are clever, hilarious, naughty, and chances are they will end up driving me crazy on any given day. But they're mine, and I simply adore them. Again, I realize how fortunate I am to have three healthy, happy boys.

I'm thankful for my family. Mark and I are so blessed to both come from families that are loving and supportive. Our parents are second to none, and we feel so grateful knowing that we can always count on them. I am fortunate to have three brothers, five brothers-in-law, eight sisters-in-law, and eleven nieces and nephews (with one on the way!). I love each and every one.

I'm thankful for living in a community we love, for a great school with great teachers, for our church community, for a comfortable home that keeps us warm in the winter and cool in the summer. I could go on and on. Like I said, we are abundantly blessed to live in a place where we have freedom and opportunities. 

I hope you take the opportunity to count your blessings, too, and have the happiest of Thanksgivings!

Battlefield dinner table

The past two nights I have served my boys the most horrific meals. Yes, horrific, if you take Paul's word for it, anyway. Sunday night, it was lemon chicken. Paul took one taste and gagged - literally gagged. "This tastes horrible!" he moaned. To get it down, he made a slurry of ketchup and mustard in which to dip the vile chicken.

Last night, however, I outdid myself. I had made a casserole with rice, refried beans, cheese, salsa, corn and spinach. This time, he didn't even need to taste it before he declared it awful. "This is horrible!" he wailed again. "Why, Mother, why? What hath thou wrought? Why hath thou forsaken me?" Seriously, you would have thought I'd beheaded his pet rabbit and served it to him on a plate. OK, so I may have embellished his quotes a little bit, and he doesn't really have a pet rabbit,  but it was outrage on that level. I had offended him, deeply, with my offering.

I never know the right course of action in these situations. In the past, I've broken every rule in the book regarding kids and eating: bribery, threats, I'm ashamed to say I've tried it all. I know experts say not to battle on this one. Kids will eat when they're hungry. Keep presenting healthy foods, and eventually kids will start to embrace them. File those under easier said than done.

I like to think I'm pretty reasonable with my eating expectations.  Being a recovering picky eater myself, I'm empathetic to the boys' food dislikes and suspicions. I give them outs on foods they really don't like. If I make something they dislike and they try it and calmly tell me they don't like it, I've been known to let them eat peanut butter bread or cold cuts in lieu of the dinner I've prepared. The problem is, they usually don't tell me calmly, they go right to whiny. And when whiny comes out, I tend to dig in my heels.

Something tells me I'm in for several more years of mealtime battles. I'd better make sure I, at least, stay fortified. If you'll excuse me, think I'm going to go heat up some of that heinous casserole for myself.

Scenes from school

This week and last, I had the opportunity to spend sometime with Ben and Paul's classes. Last Wednesday, I chaperoned Ben's field trip to Madison, where the fourth-graders visited the Capitol and the Vilas Zoo. The kids were great, overall, but one thing I noticed is that they love to say the word "dude." A lot. I didn't realize it had made such a big comeback.

One of the things that struck me most watching the kids was that for the most part, they're all still nice to one another. No one, that I could see, was teased or set as an outcast. It made me sad in a way knowing that the inevitable social caste system, in which some kids will rise to the top while others will be deemed untouchable, will emerge in a mere year or two. How I wish kids could hold on to their sweetness.

Yesterday, I paid a visit to school to help with Paul's class's Halloween party. Before the party got under way, the kids had a Halloween assembly in the gym. The principal called out groups of kids by the costumes they were wearing, and the kids ran into the center of the room and did a little dance. I was amazed as I watched Ben and Paul happily run out and dance. It's something I never would have done. I would have pegged Paul, for sure, as refusing to go out.

When we got back to Paul's classroom, I was further astounded to see how much he has grown in a year. Last year in preschool, he stuck to me like glue every time I was in his classroom. He wasn't very social, was pretty much a loner, I thought. But yesterday, sure, he was happy to have his mom visit school, but that didn't stop him from sitting down with three other boys and making up a game to play with cars. I've never been so happy to be ignored.

Parents tend to label their kids. I know I do. I'm happy to learn that sometimes our kids surprise us in the best possible ways.