How to be supportive while still being a parent

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It’s Monday. As if Mondays aren’t hard enough, we signed up my oldest for a Lego at lunchtime session that starts today. He doesn’t like new things. Or new people. Or new environments. Especially when he has to do it on his own.

It’s a school program. An instructor/leader comes to the class at lunch, calls out the kids in the program, collects them, takes them to the room or the library where they play Lego for maybe an hour. It’s not like he’s being bussed someplace with totally rando people or has fight his way through a Lord of the Flies gauntlet of carnivorous kids to get his lunch (though that’s kind of what school’s like).

It’s Lego. And lunch.

He even already knows a couple kids in it from his class as well as a friend from another class.

But he doesn’t see it that way. And it doesn’t change his anxiety about it.

Drop off

At drop off this morning, he cried. Real tears. Which he only ever does if he’s really upset. And he rarely if ever cries at drop off. This was maybe the first time since the first drop off on the first day of junior kindergarten.

That was two years ago.

What’s worse, for me, is he didn’t wave to me as he walked into class. When the bell rings, the kids all line up outside and wait for the teacher to open the door. Then the kids all waddle slowly inside.

And he always waves. All the way in. All the way to the door. Every morning. Every day.

But not today.

I’d say he actively avoided looking at me, and wiped at his eyes. It was the first time in two years he didn’t wave.

I’m maybe sadder than he is.

And it’s all about this Lego club.

Love, support, encouragement

I admit I can be a little low-patience when my son gets sad and whiny about not wanting to do things. Which is often. If not always.

But I love him to bits. I always want to be the most supportive parent I can possibly be. I want to be there for everything, be there and offer every type of support. But he still has to be alive in this world and try things and do things and go places and not be reluctant to do every single thing.

His behaviour is normal. I was introverted like him (he got it from me) and didn’t like doing new things much either. I still don’t.

But it’s hard when other kids just go along. They do things. They don’t grunt and groan and whine or complain or ask to only watch TV (cough, our fault). I struggle to think of one instance where he was actually excited to do anything or go anywhere.

That’s not his fault or anything necessarily bad, and it’s also a function of being a Covid kid where we did absolutely nothing with other people for the better part of two years. But it’s hard when you get to school age and activities start happening.

It breaks my heart

As a parent I find my heart gets broken a lot. It doesn’t take much these days. But seeing my kid crying and hurting and scared is awful. This morning, as he cried, I was a combination of empathetic and annoyed. It was right at drop off, right at the gate. He quietly kept repeating he didn’t want to go to Lego. I couldn’t change the fact that he was scheduled to go. I couldn’t tell anyone he would skip. He just had to go. We had told him a number of times if he didn’t like it he didn’t have to keep going.

But that didn’t seem to land. At least not in this moment. He still had to actually go, like today.

He was wiping big dewy tears from his eyes hard with his mittens. He never does this. He was trying to get rid of them so none of his friends saw. I feel like a tyrant as I write this. How could I let this happen?

Toughen up a bit Daddy

Teachers and admins at our kids’ daycare have often told my wife and I, somewhat directly, that it’s actually the parents that have the hard time letting go of their kids at drop offs. Not the kids. Wink wink.

We’re still known as the lingering parents. We have to pass off our youngest to either teacher directly from arms to arms at the door for him to go in. And then gets hugs and carried around with special attention almost every morning until he settles.

Most kids don’t get that. And he is extra cute. Which is a big plus.

Reality check

But kids need to do things. Parents need to work. Kids actually need the social and mental stimulation that daycare and school offers — hard and shitty and loud and stressful and boring and exciting and biting and hitting and in cases bullying and socially awkward as it is or may be.

We’re entering the age range where activities start to ramp up. Sports, clubs, skating, martial arts, swimming — we swore we wouldn’t be the parents that had their kids in an activity every day. It’s too much, we said.

But the reality is they need things to do. Any the more they get exposed too, at least in theory, the more they get to see what they like. And the more they can get started doing things they may pursue as they get older.

It’s hard to start and do new things. It’s hard to leave the house. It is for me anyway. And it must be double hard for a 5 year old.

It’ll (probably) be ok

But the liklihood is, that as hard as it may be for my oldest to go to Lego today, he’ll have fun. Or at least it’ll be okay. Or at least he live through it. We told him he didn’t have to keep going if he didn’t like it.

He might be sad. He might be mad. He might forget it was difficult at all.

And I bet you a shiny nickel he’ll bound out the door at pickup with a smile. He’ll probably say almost nothing about how his day was, as usual, but inwardly show he liked it - or at least, that he liked it enough.

Or at least that he lived to tell the tale and hopefully, isn’t still mad at Daddy.

Most days he despises going to school. He says it before bed, and first thing in the morning: NO SCHOOL. He resists going all the way to the parking lot.

Once we’re out of the car, he skips. His salty old man vibe sloughs off and he skips. He often smiles. We run. I mean, we run mostly because we’re always within 1-2 minutes of making the bell, but he runs willingly.

Conclusion

It’s hard being a parent. Almost everything is hard. The list is long. And it just continues being hard. But hopefully, the little (or big) pushes that have to happen and the little (or big) “I know it’s hard, but you can do it” pep talks (they never actually happen like that, it’s more like “come onnnnn, it’ll be finnnnneeee, you’ll be okayyyy, don’t worrrrry so much”) at drop off don’t break your kid, but actually make them think you believe in them.

I don’t know. I hope that’s what happens.

He might just be mad. Or sad. Or never want to do it again. Which is also fine. I just hope I can find a way to continue being supportive and maybe a little gentler but also a little pushier when he’s having a hard time doing something new. Is that a thing?

Postlogue

That shiny nickel I bet back in the morning paid off. At pickup my boy bounded out the door with a smile and a spring in his step. He seemed good. Normal. Just another day. The first thing he said was “I don’t want to do Lego every day”, but it was light hearted. I think he expected the club to run daily instead of once a week. “Oh no”, I said, “it’s just Mondays, don’t worry”. Then we skipped down the hall as usual, had a snack, and I got a few details about the day.

Apparently Lego was ok. He knew a couple kids from his class. He partnered with an older kid to build a robot on wheels. He was happy. He was good. He wasn’t upset. He didn’t hold a grudge or maybe even remember he was upset. I tried to hold in my sheer joy. I nodded quietly and said, “cool, nice”.

Then we went for a skate and colored afterward in the library.

It was a good day. A great day. Much better than I expected when I started writing this, that’s for sure. Who knew.