Missing out

Last week one of the parents of a child I teach had a bit of a tantrum after school one day*.  It seems her daughter missed out on having an iceblock with the rest of the class because she had been away the previous day.

In her seething mother-rage, she shouted at me "It's not FAIR that Cathy misses out on an iceblock.  The rest of the class had one and she DESERVES one too".

I was a bit gobsmacked.

I stood there wanting to say to this deranged woman that it was an ICEBLOCK that cost (me) 50cents.  She missed out because she was away that particular day and she'd just have to build a bridge and get over it: sometimes you miss out on things in life.

Instead I apologised and organised another iceblock for that child.  The mother then said "you can't imagine what its like!  She has a food intolerance and misses out on so many things already".

...and that was when I wanted to shout at her.

I wanted to shout that my kids miss out on things every day!  That she (happily married mother of two) could not imagine her kids doing without a father.  Doing without any male influence in their lives.  Doing without two incomes and family holidays.  Doing without a second parent who could take some of the slack and give them some of that much-needed one-on-one time that I am always falling behind with.  


Doing without ..... yeah - we know what it feels like.  (Clarifier - In a very First-World Problem way .... in the wider scheme of things, we do OK on quality of life front with all the fresh food, clean running water and all).

but.....

I have never ONCE pulled the "not fair" card when it comes to my own children (one of them ironically, has mild food intolerances) .  I have never done the ranty-mama-bear thing about them missing out on something because their father is dead. 
I might have thought it, but I have never said it.
Because I know that they also have so much love.

So next time I am faced with a parent trying to make every part of their child's life perfect, I will stick to my guns and point out that NOBODY has a 'perfect life'. Somewhere along the line, everybody has to learn to do without something.

... even if it is only an iceblock.

It might just  build their resilience in case they ever have to cope with a REAL life challenge (like losing a parent).




* details changed slightly as I can't share the actual incident.  You get the idea though.....

Disappointed kids

 

.... and the furious Mama Bear.

I wasn't going to blog about this today. 
I was going to think of something else to blog about but I am So. Damn. Furious. right now I have to write it out.

You see, today my darling kids were excited to go to a special holiday program for gifted and talented kids* and K was especially excited about going.

She got her invitation to attend last Monday and I immediately wrote to the event provider to enroll her.  I got a message back, thanking me for her details and telling me how to pay..... but no further information.

My son H didn't get his invitation until last Thursday (the day before the entire nation shuts down for the four-day Easter break) and I frantically sent off another e-mail.  I got no response so sent 2 more e-mails and 4 phone calls .... no reply to any of them.

Based on the pathetic response we received to the first e-mail, I assumed that since this program was run by G&T teachers, that perhaps organisation might be an area they lacked skills in, and we drove to the other side of town thinking that both children were enrolled and all would be OK.

When we got there, neither were enrolled and the staff had no paperwork.  I demanded to see "the boss".  She fobbed me off, blaming the school for not sending the notes home in time.  I asked how much time the school knew before I did.  She said "3 weeks". 
Ummmm - sorry??? 3 weeks??? 3 weeks during a school term is as good as writing a letter and flushing it down the loo in the hopes the message will reach the target.  School terms are hectic and the last three weeks can be absolutely frantic as testing is done and staffing shuffles are made.

So we turned around and came home - two very disappointed kids and one Mama Bear who is absolutely furious.
....I'm just not exactly sure who to be furious at but I suspect that both the school AND the G&T organisation can shoulder a big lump of blame each.

.....and "why" you may ask, am I so damn mad about this and what exactly does it have to do with a widow blog?

The short answer is that I am mad that my kids have had more disappointment that could have been avoided with one single phone call or e-mail.#

I am mad because they were looking forward to it and missed out through no fault of theirs or mine.

I am mad because there is that extra straw of disappointment added to the pile on their backs

I am mad because I forced myself to get into the car and drive further and longer than I amcomfortale with.

I am mad because I had to drive along roads that I have avoided since the accident.

I am mad because of the grief and "woe is me" feeling that this has brought up in all of us.

I am mad because I suspect that if Greg were here, none of this would seem like such a big deal.

I am Mama Bear and I am FURIOUS.



* My kids are not technically G&T - they are just very bright.  Well ... maybe they are mildly gifted in academic areas (mostly maths) but they are not baby Einsteins.

# I am aware that life is full of disappointments, but this could have been so easily avoided if the organisers had bothered to respond to any of my e-mails, phonecalls or texts.  Kids with dead dads already miss out on lots of things in life and sometimes even tiny disappointments can add enough to the already large burden and result in the floods of tears we've seen today.

....and yes, I have already sent a letter of complaint to the event organisers and will send a carefully worded one to the school as well.

Child of a Widow

My dad, my cousin and me about 2 years after my mom died

When I was five, my mom lost her fight with cancer and my dad was widowed at almost exactly the age I was when  I was widowed. The Universe has a really strange sense of humor, by the way.

The two of us had to navigate this new life we didn't plan for. He never got us any professional help and he didn't have much of a support system that I know of.

At school I was the only kid who'd lost a parent. I felt utterly alone and Mother's Day was torture for me as I tried to pretend I had someone living to make a card for.

At Camp Widow West this weekend, I was a part of a panel of amazing widowed people who came to a session to hear from adult children of widowed people. The facilitator and I were the two of us who were both widowed AND children of widows. As each parent took their turn to share their story, a common theme revealed itself. They just wanted to do their best to make sure their kids were okay.

Then I was asked to talk about what helped me when I was a kid and I realized that what would have helped me tremendously is if my father had reached out for help more often like these parents were doing.

Regardless of how he handled his grief or my grief, I turned out okay, though. I'll grieve the loss of my mom my whole life, but I'm okay.

I wanted so badly to reassure these parents that their children would be okay, too. Showing up at Camp and reaching out for help on the journey was a step my father didn't and couldn't really take advantage of. I can only imagine what it might have been like if my father and I had had the resources that SSLF and other grief groups offer.

He needed support for the Herculean task before him and he didn't have it. I can't imagine what it must have been like for him, but I do know what it was like for me. I needed to talk about my pain and my loss. I needed to be with other kids who'd lost their parents. I needed female figures in my life who would take me under their wing and provide some mothering. I needed my teachers to know ahead of time that I didn't have a mommy so they could help soften the blow of Mother's Day. I needed to see a counselor. I needed to keep some things of my mom's. I needed to keep her memory alive as much as possible. I needed to feel loved and wanted by my remaining parent.

Most of this I've managed to either find or create for myself as an adult, but ideally I would have had them as a kid, too.

If you're raising kids as a widowed person, I want you to know (from the other side) that it will be okay. Reach out for help as much as you can. You can't do this alone. Please don't hesitate to have you and your children seen by professionals. If you can, find a camp or a support group for your kids so they have a community of children like them to be a part of. Reach out for help whenever and wherever you can.

And come to Camp! There will be so much support for you there. So many people are out there, doing their best to raise kids after widowhood.

I won't tell you that my childhood wasn't difficult, but most of what made it so was my father's inability to reach out for help, not my mother's death. You are not alone. Please remember that. Reach out for others who are traveling this road, too. We need each other.