Jack had a field trip last Friday to travel an hour away to attend the Fair. I thought that I was cool with it, but apparently I was deluding myself. It appears as though I was not ready for the next phase of parenting; letting go.
The morning of the field trip dawned chilly and overcast, and I found myself hoping that the weather would give me an excuse to keep Jack home. I sighed in frustration when the clouds parted and the sun came out. Then there was the meltdown he had over which shirt he wore. The permission slip was very specific in that he needed to wear a blue shirt on field trip day. Jack was of a different opinion and was desperate to wear a black one. I told him in no uncertain terms that he "will wear the blue shirt or he'd have to stay home!". Imagine my disappointment when he capitulated and chose the blue shirt. I had to restrain myself from stomping my foot in a reversal of roles.
Giving up on finding an excuse to keep him home and little forever, I shamelessly used scare tactics instead. All the way to school I told him horrible things such as: "You stay with your teacher all day; if you wander away then you will be lost and you'll never come home." and "Do not talk to strangers. They will steal you." Here you go, Mrs. Hodgeson. Now that he's sufficiently terrified, I'll turn him over into your capable hands. She probably stepped on him all day because he was glued to her side in panic. The entire time that I was filling his head with my fears, there was a very tiny part of my brain that was still somewhat rational telling me to 'throttle back'. But I just couldn't. Every time I opened my mouth something terrible would come out, so I finally just stopped talking. When I looked in the back seat, Jack's eyes were huge and the expression on his face said that he couldn't wait to get to school and away from the scary woman his mother had become. So, I ended the ride on the crazy train by telling him that I was sure that he was going to have a great time, that he was a smart and wonderful boy who would be amazing today and that I was so very proud of him. Do you know how hard it was for me to drive in the opposite direction of his school bus, instead of following behind to stalk him?
In my defense, this kid is freaking adorable and to top it off, he has absolutely no sense of self preservation when it comes to keeping personal information personal. Last Wednesday we were at Wal-Mart loading our groceries onto the conveyor belt when the checker asked Jack: "And how are you today, young man?" Well, that opened the floodgates on the cache of information he had stored...
"I'm fine. My name is Jack and I'm five. I'm very strong. I go to Palominas School and my teacher is Mrs. Hodgeson. We live in the lellow house on the mountain in Hereford. This is my mom and dad. My dad doesn't have any hair, but my mom has purple hair and a tattoo on her bum."
My husband mumbled something about never letting Jack know what his social security and bank account numbers were, and I was grateful that he didn't draw a map of how to get to our house. Every time he opens his mouth I cringe, thinking that Jack has just ensured that if he is talking to a kidnapper, at least they'll know exactly where to pick him up. There are no such things as secrets when you are five, and the idea that anyone wouldn't want to have every detail of their lives shouted out to passersby is just unheard of.
How do I teach him to show restraint without killing his hope for humanity? How do I protect him without smothering him? It is such a fragile line between caution and full blown hysteria that finding the delicate balance ensuring my children's safety without damaging their psyche will be harder than I first thought. I'll probably end up in therapy trying to keep my kids from needing it.
