A couple of weeks ago, my parent’s invited my kids out for the weekend. I agreed and when I first mentioned it to my kids they seemed excited, but soon enough my already sensitive son became increasingly so. Bumps into tables resulted in tears and regular play with his sister was deemed “unfair” and also resulted in tears. When he asked about the weekend away I understood the real cause of the tears: fear.
He asked if his cousins would be there or if I was going to spend the night. The answer to both questions was no. “Then I don’t want to go,” he said. This didn’t surprise me, seeing as being away from both parents was often met with resistance. But in the last year, he spent the night at various friend’s houses and spent two nights away with his school. I reminded him how he returned from these events as well as from previous sleepovers at my parent’s house jubilant and proud and asked him what his reluctance was about this time. After a bit of discussion, he revealed another cause of the anxiety, “Nancy snaps sometimes and I don’t like it.”
Nancy is my mother and it’s true, she is short tempered at times. It’s also true that what my children think is yelling is a barely raised voice. It’s also true that my ex-husband and I were exactly like my son in being fearful of trying new things and had little desire to spend the night away from our parents when we were young. My parents made me overcome this fear by signing up for classes where I didn’t know anyone and trying new things. Plus, we moved five times while I was growing up, which exposed me to new and unfamiliar people and places. My ex-husband’s mother conceded every time to his reluctance and to this day, one of his biggest complaints about himself is that he’s afraid to try new things.
All of this and much more circulated through my brain when deciding how to approach the weekend. In the past, I always erred on the protective side and would have canceled the weekend. But what would that really teach us? That it’s all right to stay in our safe little world, never venture out, and not interact with any people who may raise their voice occasionally? Unfortunately, this is how we have been living our life.
When my son started having nightmares in Kindergarten, I transferred him to a warm, fuzzy, very quiet and respectful private school. When I came home day after day exhausted by my co-workers, I quit my job and have been working from home for ten years. I choose my friends and people I interact with very carefully and in essence, have created what a friend calls “my pond” for myself and children. Part of me is proud of this tranquil, peaceful world I’ve created, but part of me knows I am doing nothing for my children nor myself by spending the majority of our time in this pleasant, but not necessarily realistic world. In short, it’s time to venture off of our lily pad every now and then.
The weekend with my parents served as the perfect chance to have my son challenge himself in a very safe environment and probably return home triumphant. It also served as an opportunity to learn how to take care of himself when other people are reacting in a way that seems unpleasant to him. I asked him to come up with solutions to curb his fear around sleeping there without a parent as well as reassured him that my mother snapping had nothing to do with him, it merely meant she was overwhelmed or tired and needed to take some time for herself. Until she could do that for herself, I asked my son what he could do for himself to deflect the snapping.
We talked about this for a couple of days and by the end, he was excited about the weekend. I shared his concerns and proposed solutions with my parents and much to my surprise, they were very receptive, not resistant, to the information and complimented the solutions. They thanked me for the information and reassured me they would have their phone on them at all times in case he needed to call me. Everything seemed set and I felt triumphant that we had not only worked through the issue, but that he was going to learn and grow from the experience.
Ten minutes before pulling up to the ferry dock to meet my parents my son burst into tears. “I only want to go for one night, not two. Why can’t you spend the night tonight?” he pleaded. I already had plans with several people that evening and frankly, after an exhausting week was looking forward to having a childfree evening. Not to mention two children were part of this plan, and my five-year old daughter was looking forward to it. I reminded him of his solutions and of the fun he had on previous visits, but he still disembarked the ferry looking as if I was taking him to prison.
By the time I re-boarded the ferry he had a smile on his face and was focused on my parents, not me. The tightness in my stomach eased by the time I returned to Seattle and I enjoyed my evening out, complete with one sort of happy, but sort of worried call from my son where he once again came up with his own solution to curb his fears.
He returned home from the weekend jubilant and full of stories. After recapping the weekend full of adventure, sweet food, swimming, and fun, I said, “So, you’re glad you went?”
“Yeah,” he replied, “but if I go out there for two nights again I want you to be there for one of them.”
I laughed at his answer. Partly because I was so surprised by it and partly because it was another lesson in whenever I become smug as a parent, I’m wrong. Only spending one night away was my son’s first proposed solution, but I negated it because I thought I knew what was right. I could have saved myself a ton of time and stress by agreeing to this in the first place, but I thought a ripe learning opportunity was presenting itself for him. Ends up, I probably learned more than he did from the experience.

Corbin Lewars is the author of Creating a Life: The memoir of a writer and mom in the making, which has been nominated for the 2011 PNBA and Washington State book awards. Her essays have been featured in over twenty-five publications including, The Seattle PI, Mothering, and Hip Mama. She has been a writing coach and instructor for over fifteen years and currently sees clients in the old Carnegie Library Building in Ballard. Contact her for details.