Becoming Soft Places to Land

Our resident 4-year-old attends preschool three days a week at our parish. You could say most of our homeschool learning happens during the hours that she’s away! I’m only half-kidding.

The bigs stay home to do their independent work while the littles come with me to read their literature book aloud on the way to preschool pick-up. The toddler obliges us as a happy tagalong 3 times out of 5.

Monday was only the second time Gloria had been back to preschool since Christmas break. Between blizzards, MLK Jr. Day, cold days, illness, and parent/teacher conferences, she kept missing school. Needless to say, just like in August, Gloria is still working on her back to school stamina.

Back to the scene in the van at Monday preschool pick-up…

For Gloria, everything that could have gone wrong did, and everything everyone in the van did was a personal attack. As I pulled forward to park, I heard her attempting to unzip from her winter coat so that she could climb into her car seat and buckle. The zipper got stuck. Huffs and puffs. More rustling. 10-year-old Harry and 7-year-old Dorothy volunteered to help her. “NOOOOOOOOO!!! I can DO IT MYSELF!” She eventually got herself buckled, and we exited the parking lot. No one dared make eye contact. No sudden movements. This far into the school year, we knew the drill.

“What was for snack today, Gloria?” I chirped from the driver’s seat.

“I DON’T KNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!”

I took a deep, cleansing breath. “Oh,” I took another deep, cleansing breath. “It sounds like it was a tough morning. Do you want to talk about your day? I was wondering if you got to hear a new story today.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Harry thought he’d try another angle with his sweetest, most interested voice. “Gloria, what was your special today?”

“I don’t KNOOOOOOOOOOOOOW, HARRY!” Then the floodgates opened. “Moooooooooom,” (snotty sniffle), “my froat hurts.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

“Yeah.” (More snotty sniffles.) “Can you pass the tissues?” (Elephant trumpeting sounds.) “I think I need a snack and some rest.”

In her best Mother Hen empathetic tone, 8-year-old Dorothy turned to Gloria with an, “When we get home, why don’t you get a snack while I get your pillow and blankey from our room?”

“Okay, Dorothy.” (More sniffles.) Mom?”

“Yes?”

(Sobbing.) “Can…you…give…me…a…hug…when…we…get…home?”

“You bet, sweetie. We can have a big hug and get you feeling better.”

Nearly 14-year-old Jane greeted us at the garage door. Gloria ran into her arms and told her how rotten she felt. Jane knew what to do. “Oh, Gloria, I’m sorry you don’t feel well. Let’s get you a snack.” I watched them walk hand in hand toward the pantry while I unloaded Helen.

Gloria and I had our hug, I took her temp, I got her some ibuprofen, and Jane brought over a (generous!) bowl of Goldfish crackers.

Dorothy set up the couch with Gloria’s pillow and blankey.

When all of our children were enrolled in traditional school, I was routinely on the receiving end of the volcano blow-ups when they got home. I dedicated an entire episode of my old podcast (While You Were Folding) to the topic. It was rough. I was tired of getting my kids’ leftovers while their teachers got the best of them everyday.

Now that we are homeschooling, the kids and I still have all of our BIG feelings. What’s changed is how we work through them. Before, the kids stuffed at school all day, and they became Mt. Vesuvius with me when they walked in the door. The good news with being surrounded by your loved ones day in and day out is that you feel safe. The bad news about being surrounded by your loved ones day in and day out is that you feel free to let it all hang out. Sigh. While homeschooling, we are forced to work through the big feelings together. There’s no hiding in homeschooling! When someone is having a rough time, it’s easier and less painful to work through it with them than to let it linger and fester. It’s easier to connect the dots between cause and effect because we are with each other all day every day. I’m able to do more emotional coaching because I was there for what came before the blowup. Perhaps most importantly, they witness me having to ask for forgiveness when I’m impatient, rushing them along, or being short. We are all better at putting words to why we are having the big feelings.

So, on Monday, when I watched Gloria go through her preschool pick-up meltdown, I realized how much we had flipped the script on big feelings as a family. I used to take their blow-ups personally or feel like a victim to their school days. I tried to discipline the Mt. Vesuvius moments instead of digging deeper to find out what was going on. I treated the symptoms instead of what was causing the ache. When Gloria recognized that her throat hurt, communicated it, AND asked for what she needed, I started tearing up in the driver’s seat. I only recently learned to have those skills as an adult. My preschooler’s emotional development is lightyears ahead of where I was at that age. Praise You, Jesus!

As my spiritual director likes to remind me, “Feelings are morally neutral.” My children aren’t afraid to communicate their big feelings. They know I don’t take them personally anymore. They know that I know they’re not even about me most of the time! They know they can share their feelings without being told not to feel them, that their feelings are silly, or that my feelings are bigger.

They are becoming soft places for me to land, too. What a mercy! When I’m short with them, I can ask for forgiveness. Then, I can share that I didn’t sleep well the night before or am feeling distracted by something else going on. They are learning that my big feelings are rarely about them. I think there’s a release for them in knowing that they’re not the center of my universe! They receive my color commentary not as an excuse for my behavior, but as a way to better understand my imperfect humanity.

We’re all becoming soft places to land. I suppose that’s what Henry Nouwen meant in The Return of the Prodigal Son when he wrote that the goal of this side of heaven is to become the Father.

“Though I am both the younger son and the elder son, I am not to remain them, but called to become the Father.”

That Father and His reckless Love. What a soft place to land!