A Lesson About Motherhood From Bike Riding

It is so strange sometimes how a simple, everyday family activity will cause me to think about deeper issues of my motherhood experience.  Today, the kids spent a couple hours riding their bikes around the parking lot.  In case anyone is concerned, my husband Luke, who is sighted, directed them and watched out for vehicles.  As I watched them work on their speed and balance, I began to think and as I find I so often do, I am now turning those thoughts into writing.  I hope they may be of some value to you.

I felt a bit of sadness in that I can't be the one to really, safely and effectively, oversee their bike riding attempts.  Vision is a very essential ability to possess in this endeavor, as there is a constant concern about cars or running into poles or parked vehicles.  I wondered if they were missing out because they can only ride their bikes when Luke is able to do this.  It felt unfair to them.
I then began to think about the summer, when our apartment complex pool opens up.  I realized that, as they are both still learning how to swim, I just don't feel safe taking both out to the pool by myself, at the same time. I am going to have to do a rotation, one day with Lexy and the other with Jon.  I felt like they would be missing out, not getting to play together in the water.  I wished I could give them that experience.  I wondered what other things they would not get to do, as fully or in the best ideal, because their mother can't see.

But then, I realized a couple things.  First, that every mother wonders this.  Every mother wonders if there is more she could or should be doing, if she should be doing everything completely different, if she is doing right by her kids, etc.  If it's not sight, then it's meals or screen time or sleep overs or... Well, you get the idea.  This train of thought isn't just only a blind mother thing.

Then, I finally started to really pay attention to what was happening after each child would finish their lap.  When Jon would come back from his, he would hang out with me, while Lexy went with Luke for her turn.  Jon would excitedly tell me what he had done on his turn, how fast he went and what silly games Luke played with him to encourage him to go even faster.  We would play a silly game we came up with, where he would drum on the handle bars and I would try to stop him by pushing his hands off.  He would laugh and ask to keep playing.
When it was Jon's turn, and Lexy was with me, she and I would talk about how excited she was to have a bike.  She would sit in my lap.  She would ring her bike bell and then tell me what "bike was saying."  She asked me if it was going to be sunny tomorrow and if we could have "swing time.", where I push her in the porch swing and we talk and/or pretend.

My lack of vision isn't stopping them and I from having fun experiences together. It may, by necessity, cause those activities to be one thing instead of another, but the experiences of mother and child are still happening.  We are still connecting and growing together.  We are still learning.  Attachment and trust are still being shaped.  This is true no matter what factor you may feel limits you as a mother.  This is such a freeing and beautiful thing to realize.  I am very glad I did and I hope you will also.

Unexpected Lessons of Motherhood

Before I actually had kids of my own, I thought of motherhood as primarily a teaching role.  This seems laughable now, as I have very quickly become aware of how many different and unrelated tasks I have to keep up with every day.  I suppose this fixation on teaching came from all I remembered my mother doing to prepare me for life and how she tried to make any mundane experience a teaching moment.  I intellectually knew that motherhood involved so much more than the teaching component, but for some reason, this was where my focus rested.  Before I actually became a mother, I was often worried about how I would go about teaching my kids.  There were so many facets of living, how could I accurately and diligently cover them all, without making life utterly boring for my poor children?  I’d spend time thinking about what life lessons were essential.  I was concerned, not sure if I was really cut out to navigate them through the craziness and complexity of life.  I found myself worrying about everything from teaching them how to handle unkindness from others, money management, generosity, cleanliness, and everything in between.  Needless to say, all that planning and pondering accomplished little.  When we first brought our daughter home three years ago, it didn’t take me long to realize that, while I did have a responsibility to teach her about the world and how it all works, she (and her brother, who soon followed, would be teaching me just as much.  These are lessons I am still in the process of learning each day.

I am slowly learning that time together is more important than tasks.  I quickly found as a mother that, if I’m not careful, I can spend all my time doing things for my kids instead of simply doing things with them.  It is so easy to become focused on the tangible tasks, like making sure their clothes are always clean, making sure they have good food to eat and making sure that their rooms are kept tidy.  While these things are important, I can’t let them keep me from just playing with my kids, even if it is in their messy rooms.  They value time with me, and I need to honor that.  They would rather play "Connect 4" or tag then have dinner be punctually on the table by 6 P.M every night.  When I do slow down (regrettably less than I wish), it’s amazing what ends up happening.  The tasks still get done, just a bit later than normal, and they and I thoroughly enjoy our time together!  Overall, that day is less stressful, and the kids are even somewhat better behaved.

I am learning that I need others.  I was born blind, and as I went through middle/high school and college, I found myself feeling that I had to do it all.  I had to prove that blind people were just as capable as anyone else in literally everything.  I felt that, if I didn’t do this, I was giving all blind people everywhere a negative reputation.  Needless to say, this attitude was exhausting and untenable long term.  Parenting has quickly removed any last remnants of that way of thinking from me.  We all need each other.  We need each other’s wisdom, strength, encouragement, accountability and kindness.  I can learn just as much from another sighted parent or one who is blind like I am.  Parenting shouldn’t be a solo effort. All that will do is exhaust us, and our kids will feel our exhaustion and think that they don’t need others either.

I am learning, and this is the hardest for me because it hits my pride, that I am not the person I thought I was.  If you had asked me before kids came along, I would have said I figured myself to be a fairly low-key person.  I didn’t get easily upset, wasn’t petty, was fairly patient and I wouldn’t have really described myself as selfish.  Well, the constant needs of my children and the physical and emotional demands of being a mother have shattered all my delusions of grandeur in regards to my wonderful personality.  I quickly discovered, to my shame, that I am the opposite of who I thought I was.  However, I have found that God, through my children, is turning even this into a beautiful new opportunity and yes, another teaching moment.

I am learning about forgiveness.  My kids are so quick to forgive and continue on as if nothing happened.  They are so quick to look past my short temper and frustrated, hurried answers, as I struggle to fold laundry and make dinner.  This constantly reminds me that there is another chance and that God is using my kids to grow and drastically change my character.  It is a beautiful and frightening thing, but I am so glad I am experiencing it.  So now, while I strive to raise my kids the best I can, I am grateful for all they are teaching me, even if at times I am an unwilling student.

Challenges My Kids Often Face When Playing With Others

This is one of those emotional posts to write.  As a mother, I try to balance my maternal desire to protect my kids from all discomfort with the realization that life is not always easy and they need to learn how to deal with life not being fair.  That said, I feel this is something I can speak to without crossing that line of coddling my children, or at least, I certainly hope you would all agree.  I want to talk about how sighted kids interact, or to the point, often don't interact with my blind kids.

Let me try and explain.  My kids are not as fast as sighted kids.  Now, from a selfish standpoint, sometimes that is nice for me.  They can't run away from me, and they often avoid much mischief only because they just don't know something is available to destroy.  But this also makes it more complicated for them to play with sighted kids who can freely and quickly run throughout the house or playground.  My kids can't just take off with them, at least, not without help.  I often see that my kids are excluded from much of the play that occurs, not due to any conscious ill-intent by the other kids, but perhaps just due to not being aware of this fact and its consequences.  As a result, they often end up just playing with each other and not getting to interact with others.

Now let me be clear about what I am not saying here.  I am by no means saying that sighted kids should cease all physical play when my kids arrive.  I am not saying that they should only be playing in ways that are the easiest for my kids.  I am not saying that the world revolves around them.  Despite my best efforts, they already think it does enough as it is. :)  But what I am saying is a few things that I hope will give you an idea of where I am coming from on this matter.

I am asking you, parents of sighted kids, to try and teach your children about differences.  Try and explain (in my kids' case) that blindness makes it harder, not impossible, to run or be as active without help.  Tell them that my kids still love to play just as much as they do.  Offer them suggestions about how to bring my kids into their physical/active games.  Especially in Lexy's case, my girl loves to run and climb.  Talk to your kids about something as simple as walking up to her and saying “Hi Lexy, it's so-and-so, we're playing tag, want to run with me?”  or “Hi Lexy, we're playing hide and seek, want to help me look for everybody?”  I am very sure she would heartily agree!

In Jon's case, as he is less mobile, “Hi Jon, we're playing hide and seek, want to help me count?”  Or “Hey Jon, we're going to play music and dance, want to come?”  Even if he didn't dance, he would still enjoy the music and would probably clap or otherwise keep good rhythm.  Let's go beyond games.  Try and teach your kids to just come over and strike up a conversation.  Jon loves to talk and wants to be social; he just needs encouragement from others.  I am trying to teach social skills; I often give them ideas of things to talk about with other kids, depending on the context of where we are going.  This can't work if no one will talk with them.

Please explain to your kids about eye contact and that, due to blindness, my kids can't look them in the eyes, but that doesn't mean they don't want to talk with them.  Often, I'll hear my kids saying something presumably to a child whose voice they've recognized, (or introducing themselves to a child they don't know) but since they can only look in their general direction, the person they were addressing has left before the full sentence was out.  As a side note, this still happens to me, I'll be in conversation with someone and they have to quickly step away and I don't realize it.  I take no offense to it, but it can be awkward at times.  If someone is able to tell me that they will be right back, it is always appreciated.

Please explain that they could, once in a while, consider other activities that my kids could more readily participate in, such as blocks or Legos or coloring (yes, my kids love to color, isn't that cool?)  I have known many awesome families who have done this, and it is the most wonderful thing to see. And my kids love it and remember it. :)  Thank you to those who have, you don't know the joy it brings to me as a mother to see my kids playing like that.

I am thankful that in elementary school, I rarely remember feeling rejected by my peers.  That changed entering middle and high school.  Now, to be fair, some of that was due to the general self-imposed ridiculousness and drama of teenage years, but I do think that some of it was due to my blindness.  I don't want my kids to always have that hovering over them. I want them to be confident children and adults and to learn how to interact and do well in a sighted world. But they can't do this alone and I can't teach them alone.  I need your help.  It's not my place to come and try and interject myself into your kid's life in that authoritative, teaching way.  Come alongside me and teach your kids beforehand, just as I try and teach mine about interacting and social skills, so that our teaching efforts will work together.  If you homeschool, incorporate this kind of thing into your weekly routine.  Let's get together, as much as is possible, so our kids can all learn and interact together.  This will not just be doing a service for my kids but will be of value to yours as well.

When Real Life Makes it to Hard to Pretend

Photo Credit: Unsplash.com user Tanaphong Toochinda. (Not the actual child from the story below)

When you think of children, what is the main activity you think of all of them, regardless of where they live, engaging in?  I would venture a guess, if you gave it a few moments thought, it would be imagining or pretending.  This is what I assumed as well.  However, when I was working at a homeless shelter a few years ago, I had an experience I will never forget.  I was working with a certain family, trying to help them get their life back together.  It was a mom with three young children.  Sadly, the mother constantly yelled at her kids and spoke to them in a demeaning manner.  The little girl, who was no older than my daughter and whose name I still remember, was holding a toy camera in the common room.  I walked by and asked in an excited, playful tone if she would take my picture.  In a half stoic, half patronizing tone, she answered me “It's not a real camera.”  I was shocked and deeply saddened.  I had taken it for granted that children everywhere, regardless of circumstances, knew how and just plain liked to pretend.  It makes perfect sense, though, that a difficult, painful, or physically or emotionally exhausting life would dim that aspect of childhood or just eliminate it all together.  I will never forget that little girl and I pray that her life changed for the better.  She would be about 13 now; I hope she has been given back the joy of life.

When we started our adoption process for our daughter, I somehow did not think of the above experience.  We are so accomplished at compartmentalizing our lives, it just didn't enter my mind.  So when we visited Lexy as well as when she first arrived home, one of the first things that stood out to us was that she didn't pretend or imagine.  She would just functionally play with toys and often by herself, without seeming to want or know what to do with any interaction from us.  It was an odd place to find ourselves.  First, we were with a child who literally didn't know how to pretend and second, wondering how to teach this assumed innate skill.

The thing that started Lexy on her journey of imagination was when one random time we pretended to take a nap, covering up with one of her blankets and accompanying the game with exaggerated snoring.  She found this absolutely hilarious and for a while after would mimic us in this game.  Pretending started with a simple real-life action.  This trend continued as we then started to pretend that her toy animals were going on car rides to places we had actually been together, like the park or the bank.  Soon, no matter what toy we were playing with, Lexy would always want it to “go on a car ride.”  Sometimes, this continued repetition was exhausting for us, as we wanted variety, but it was so good for her.

Gradually, her categories for pretend increased and by the time Jon came home, she was doing her best to help him learn to do the same.  We often would have to help poor Jon out, though, as he knew little English and had no clue what Lexy was rattling on about.  Often she would pretend at him, as if he was fully engaged with what was happening, at least in her mind anyway.  For a while, he just could not grasp what was going on. What words he did understand, he understood in a concrete, literal way.  I am happy to say that, in his 11 months with us, this is changing.  For Jon, it was elevators.  He loves them and he slowly began to pretend that everything was an elevator, even when it made no logical sense.  We were so happy to see this process start with him.  Now, he pretends beyond just elevators to airplanes, for example. He now plays along with Lexy in her imaginary friend world, which can be quite amusing, if not confusing for us at times.  He loves pretending to go to Florida and see family.  Again, it is starting with real life, concrete things that we have actually done.  It warms my heart every time I hear my two children pretending together, knowing how long they had gone without this simple joy that is, to our American sentiments, an assumed characteristic of childhood.

I wanted to share our experience in this area for two reasons.  First, for anyone considering adoption or being a foster parent, this is something very important to be aware of.  This way, you can be thinking now how you can help your child learn this beautiful and vital aspect of play.  The second reason is simply to highlight another example as to why you may want to consider adoption or being a foster parent.  Children should not face malnutrition, abuse, and hardship; they should be given the chance to have a safe, loving home.  But beyond those needs, they should have the chance to be children, to experience the simple joy of play for its own sake.  Adoption and/or being a foster parent can open up so many possibilities for children and even this seemingly simple aspect of play can have such a positive impact as they grow.