Comic Book Mama

The pace of life has been frenetic of late. All of the end-of-school year brouhaha has more than caught up with me. It has taken me over, left me in the dust. As I watch all of the details I am supposed to be remembering rapidly pull away, grow tiny on the horizon, I am scratching my head wondering how exactly I got so far behind. And then there is today: Mothers’ Day. Usually I have already had a Mothers’ Day tea with my mom and siblings. Usually, I have situated myself well for a day of rest and relaxation. Today, I have a mountain of things to get done and little inspiration to achieve them. I am overwhelmed and just want to lie down and take a nap. Given that it is Mothers’ Day after all–perhaps I should.

When I get to feeling like this–all wrapped up in the minutia–I try to step back and survey the scene from a great distance for perspective. When time has passed–say 5 years from now–what will I remember about today? Will I remember all of the things I have NOT accomplished…the school shirts I haven’t ordered, the papers I need to look through and organize, the empty refrigerator that needs to be filled, the lawn that needs to be mowed, the sprinklers that need to be fixed…or will I remember the snuggles I had with my boys, the delicious breakfast we shared, the run with my sweet and trusty and deaf old dog. Five years from now, will my memories be filled with images of the laundry that needs to be folded or the beautiful cards, noodle necklace, drawings and paintings the boys made? These are the things that will go in the memory box. So why don’t I just start focusing on them now? Why wait 5 years to remember what’s important and let go of all the rest?

And so, to begin, here is the card that Boris made. It says: “Dear Mom, I like to watch TV with you. I like Jake [and the Neverland Pirates], Special Agent Oso, Mickey Mouse, and The Three Mousekateers.” It’s signed expertly in his 4-year-old scrawl next to a beautiful picture of his smiling face.

Oscar made me a watercolor painting. On the back, he wrote “Querida mamá, te quiero mucho! Eres fuerte y hermoso. Me gusta cuando juegas conmigo. Eres la mejor mamá del mundo entero. Con amor, Oscar” It means “Dear Mama, I love you very much! You are strong and beautiful. I like when you play with me. You are the best mom in the whole world. With love, Oscar.”

When I start to drown in all that hasn’t been done, I will pull up these sweet little love notes from my boys and cling to them until the sea calms and I feel that I can swim to safety. All of these things that seem so urgently pressing today are dwarfed by the knowledge that I am connected to two beautiful souls who–even on my most disorganized, worst day–love me and at least for this precious moment think that I am strong and beautiful and the best mom in the whole world.

Over the weekend, I was talking with some parents and teachers about BOYS and boy energy. The discussion reminded me of something I wrote in the wake of the tragedy in Newtown, CT. If you didn’t see it the first time around on Facebook, here it is again…

Like everyone, I have been raw…numb…overwhelmed by the news from Connecticut. Over the weekend, my heart could not bear to hear another detail and so I unplugged from the news for a couple of days. Only yesterday was I able to bring myself to behold the beautiful faces of the lovelies that were lost.

Last night, after reading many, many articles and posts, I got to thinking about my own boys…the games they play…the things they watch. Admittedly, they enjoy…seek out…crave games with guns and swords. Every stick they find at the park becomes a weapon.  Their imaginations run wild with thoughts of fighting and smashing. Their drawings are filled with terrifying villains, punching superheroes. When they are pretending, their tiny mouths rattle with the sounds of gunfire and explosions. There is just something inside the marrow of almost every boy I know (both small and grown) that compels them to fantasize about smashing and punching and shooting and stabbing. Boys like to break things open and see how they work.

And so…what is a Boy Mom to do in the wake of such violence to make sure that the games remain games, fantasy remains fantasy…and in the real world…our boys understand the importance of gentility and compassion? How do we make sure that they know it’s their job to care for and protect others, to empathize?

Because of background in education and psychology and my love of research and science, I am unable to jump onto the “It’s all the violent video games and scary movies!” bandwagon. Even without an electronic device in site, I’ve seen boy after boy tackle and tumble and poke and play fight. Millions of boys and men all over the world have heads full of violence but only a tiny fraction morph into homicidal maniacs. And so, what IS the common denominator? What DOES the research indicate?

My experience and the research of others seems to indicate that the issues are many and trouble really begins when kids are/are feeling isolated, disconnected, misunderstood. The situation is seriously exacerbated by mental illness that goes untreated. When disconnected, issue-laden kids don’t have early and regular access to appropriate interventions/services…when said kids have ready access to mechanisms of harm…we should all be very, very afraid.

After pondering all of this, I made the decision that my best bet in raising boys who care about others, who repair rather than harm is to make sure that they always feel connected, supported; that they have the tools to express even scary emotions calmly and appropriately. Last night, I sat Boris and Oscar down and had a conversation that went something like…

Me: “Do you know the real reason that Mom doesn’t like you playing games with guns and swords and stuff like that?”

Boys: “Why?”

Me: “Because I worry that you might start to think that things that happen in the game or movie are OK to do in real life. You know that in real life, we use our words, not our fists and feet and weapons, right?”

Boys: “Right.”

Me: “Also, in real life, you know that if there is something scary like a bad guy, a fire, or a scary animal…what should you do?”

Boys: “Run far away from the danger as fast as we can.”

Me: “Right! And find who?”

Boys: “An adult we can trust like a teacher or a mommy with kids.”

Me: “Right! And what do you say?”

Boys: “There’s an emergency! Call 9-1-1!”

Me: “Amazing! You guys are so good! So here’s the deal I’m going to make with you boys…I will let you continue to play your games with guns and swords and stuff like that under three conditions. (1) TV and video games are like candy for your brain, right? So if you’re going to have candy, you need to first eat your vegetables. That means doing good stuff for your brain like homework, reading, and exercise FIRST. (2) If Daddy or I see you acting in real life the way the guys act in movies or video games, what do you think is going to happen?”

Boys: “Turn it off.”

Me: “That’s right! If Daddy or I see you acting like a video game, WE ARE SHUTTING IT DOWN. The computer, the TV will both be UNPLUGGED and there will be NO MORE TV OR VIDEO GAMES FOR YOU.”

Boys: “OK.”

Me: “So the third condition is this: Since lots of the other moms and dads we know do not want their kids playing games with guns and swords and stuff, I DO NOT WANT TO SEE ANY OF THAT KIND OF STUFF ON WHEN WE HAVE COMPANY OVER. Understand?”

Boys: “Yeah.”

Me: “Sound fair?”

Boys: “Yeah.”

After our talk, there was lots of cuddling and some ice cream. I debriefed Chris when he got home from work last night and this morning, we recapped the conversation as a family.

I cannot stop my boys from being BOYS but what I can do is make sure they feel connected, supported. I can make sure they live in a connected community where we know our neighbors and have lots of eyes and ears…where if they step even ONE toe out of line, I’m going to hear about it so we can intervene immediately. I can make sure they do community service and help others to foster their empathy. I can use my motherly intuition to detect if mental illness is heartbreakingly descending and—rather than sticking my head in the sand—I can act swiftly and boldly, gratefully tap into the great mental health benefits that I am lucky to enjoy through my work. Finally, I can make sure that there is NEVER a gun in my house so that I never have to worry that my boys or anyone else will get hold of it and use it to do harm.

I cannot change what has happened. I cannot take away the shock and horror that we are all feeling in these tender days. The best I can do is love my boys even when they’re being BOYS and give them the tools to navigate a sometimes very scary world.