Family Practice: My little cling-on
Thursday, September 23rd, 2010It’s always nice to know how much my children adore me. At seven years old, my son still runs excitedly toward me as soon as he gets off of the school bus to give me a big hug and kiss. My toddler greets me at the front door with a giant grin and an emphatic, surprised-like-I-just-returned-early-from-war “Mommy!” if I so much as walk out to the mailbox and back. Dropping off my four-year-old at preschool elicits a flailing, kicking, screaming, knock-down, drag-out hallway scene, because she just doesn’t want to leave my side.
OK, that last bit of proof of my child’s adoration I could do without.
I didn’t quite imagine Elaine, my middle child, being the crying kid at preschool. As a toddler, her personality seemed to foreshadow more of a “Mom, this will be harder on you than it will be on me” school separation. In fact, when we would drop off my oldest at preschool, it was his younger sister who would cry because she wanted to be the one to stay and play.
By the time it was Elaine’s turn to actually be the one staying and playing, however, she had apparently lost interest in the whole thing and decided instead to take the fight-it-tooth-and-nail approach. Although it took much longer than I had hoped or anticipated, we did make progress by the end of three-year-old preschool. She had come to accept the two-and-a-half-hour, twice-a-week breaks in our otherwise constant relationship. Yet, the beginning of four-year-old preschool has put us right back where we were a year ago – with my child clinging to me like pet hair on a black pair of pants.
Just when I began to think that the whole thing was nothing but a performance put on by an actress in the making, her emotions bubbled over with the heartfelt admission, “My tummy just hurts too much when I’m not with you.” As much as I somewhat want to be completely annoyed that my daughter continues to shun the school she has grown to know and love over the past 12 months, I understand where my little girl’s coming from. For years I was the kid calling my parents to come get me from sleepovers at midnight because I had developed that wish-I-were-home pit in my stomach. Until I simply grew out of it, I remember the only feeling of cure being a reunion with my parents, so I try to at least remain sympathetic.
Considering my own history as a young cling-on, perhaps Elaine’s separation reluctance is due to some homebody gene that hasn’t yet been identified. Still, as any good mother would, I can’t let the opportunity to think my child’s difficulty is somehow caused by my own faulty parenting pass me by. Did I miss too many minutes those first eleven days of her life she had to spend in the NICU? Did I emotionally scar her when I signed up to help with Sunday school just to be in her class, but ended up in a different one? Should I have sent her to the preschool she picked instead of the one I picked, even though her pick was based solely on a toy she had spotted during the tour?
I have come to believe that avoiding some minor or not-so-minor parenting misstep along the way would not have set my daughter on a completely different, perfectly well-adjusted path. As much as I’d love for her to happily and confidently walk into preschool each day with no tears in sight, her difficulty transitioning to new places and new faces is a wrinkle that needs to be ironed out over time. In the meantime, it is hard knowing that my child’s most challenging quality is likely overshadowing all of her other great ones.
My daughter is a happy, giggly, creative, considerate, mindful, engaging, self-sufficient, lovely human being who just happens to clam up or even crumble at the first sign of unfamiliarity. As much as just enjoying her company and all of her wonderful qualities where she Elaine feels comfortable displaying them is enough for me now, I look forward to a day when she allows the rest of the world to fully appreciate her too.
Shannon and her husband Michael are raising three children in Sylvania. E-mail her at letters@toledofreepress.com.










