October 10: Math Play to Solve Problems and Lessons in Letting Go

Sarah is the most talented and ever-surprising namer of herself and others. This week she called me “Mama Circle-With-A-Line-Through-It” and dubbed herself the same, just as the baby.

Amy has been roller-skating a up a storm, and changing her plans for her Halloween costume as rapidly as those roller skate wheels spin. She is alternately going to be a witch, a mermaid, a sea witch, Anna from Frozen, or a sorceress. 

Last Sunday Amy took a practice math test. Wally, the stuffed animal wolf that visits when Grammy and Granddad visit, took one page of the practice test too, with my help. Embarrassingly, even the problem he tried to do correctly he got wrong because he was going too fast. He was most proud of his drawing a stick figure as part of one answer and of writing “purple” for another. Amy found some good laughter in Wally’s answers, which helped with her tears. When she doesn’t understand a math problem or concept it touches something deep within about not being smart or good enough. The feelings are hard-core and no learning or help can happen until the feelings clear. After a long break, Carl realized that with the problems that were written out with more words and not all numbers, Amy was fine and understood. So he rewrote the trickier ones with more words and showed her how they were the same problems and that she really did know what she was doing. Then he brilliantly played the role of a math villain trying to trick her, but she foiled his plans every time!

I’ve had some headache whisper scares this past week. I’m used to having tiny trace headaches that remind me to be present and not stress so much. But the recent whispers felt like they came from a deeper, less controllable place. On top of working to notice what emotions might be behind the whispers, I had to give myself space to move through the terror about the cluster headaches possibly returning. I’ve journaled and cried and breathed. One of the most helpful things seems to be giving myself time to truly do nothing and to tell myself I have nothing to do. There is always a long list in my head of things to do and other people I want to help with their various pains. But if I don’t stop this headache train before it leaves the station then I will be no help to anyone. 

Two moments this week highlighted how important and impactful it is to tend to one’s own self first and the impact to others will follow. One moment was mine and the other was Gregory’s. My moment was when I was giving an Alexander Technique lesson to someone. As I freed my own neck, my student gave a huge sigh as things shifted and released for them. It is easy to think such a thing is coincidence, except for how often the coincidences happen in general and did specifically during this lesson. I keep thinking about how I can better free myself during parenting tightness, without worrying about the outcome. My goal is just to be easier in myself. Easy to say, but so much harder to remember to (un)do. 

Here is Gregory’s moment in his own words…

"In the midst of whatever play we were playing, I found a paper airplane.  I threw it.  Sarah tried.  Her grip and motion were not amenable to the plane actually flying.  I asked if I could show her.  Akin to putting a person in the right position for Yoga or Alexander Technique (as my memory serves with you, Jenny).  Sarah agreed.  We got her in position, I helped her get the right grip, and she threw the thing very successfully.  She wanted to make another. Well, I did and she was like, “Yes!”  So we’re sitting at her desk, her centered in the Anna-chair and me on the stool to her left.  I began making an airplane I learned how to make in my youth.  As I started the first fold, and I have to tell you that when I make paper airplanes, my neurodivergence and perfection streak really kicks in reflexively.  Sarah reflexively, in a bid to participate, pushed down and I reflexively started a blocking move BUT TOTALLY CAUGHT MYSELF.  I think Sarah sensed the tension but then I was smiling and I said, “Oh wow!  That’s a perfect fold.”  She paused.  Smiled.  Kissed my right forearm.  And the world was right.

She gave me that forearm kiss several more times.  I like to think that she was “rewarding” my self-control. My catching myself.  That is, she was, in that moment, MY guru or teacher or clinician.”

Yesterday we went to Simmons’ Farm to get pumpkins and play. Sarah loves to pretend to drive the firetruck. Amy loves the giant hamster wheels and the loooong slide. It took much determination on her part to make the slide work for her because it wasn’t as fast and slippery as in past years due to the recent rain. She persevered and had a great time overall. Carl and I marveled at how we have big kids now and they are really not at all little kids. How did this happen?!

Carl is riding 130 miles for a bike race today!! 

Since it is October, we are starting to watch Halloween movies and tv shows. One of Amy’s friends suggested “Hocus Pocus.” I said, “Wow. That’s a really old movie. It came out when I was young.” Then I realized what I said and cracked up. It also turns out that I don’t remember ever seeing the movie and was probably confusing it with something else.

I hope you are all well.