Divorce and a 3 (& 4) year old: Tips, notes, and reflections

Hawk about a month before the split.

I originally started this post in August, a couple of months before Hawk turned 4.  2011 really kicked my ass, our asses (ohmyfuckinggodican'twaitforittobeover).  I don't know how present I was through all of it.  In hindsight, I wasn't capable of shielding Hawk from my own life 100%.  I did well enough, I suppose, but I wish I'd done more. 

I try not to ruminate on my own feelings about our days together (I don't know how he'll feel about this past year or how it will effect him in the long run - only time will tell).  It's like a counseling session: I might feel like I was off my game and floundering, but the client might walk away feeling empowered, listened to, and like it was a meaningful hour.  I can't translate the experience for anyone else but me.  And so I look back on my impending divorce and my first year of single-mothering with as much objectivity as possible.

Here are my thoughts on handling separation and divorce with your 3 (& 4) year old:

Be developmentally appropriate
When Rooster and I split up - physically separated - Hawk was roughly 2 years and 9 months old.  Just a wee little thing.  Which meant he wasn't fully potty-trained, yet, he was only barely grasping the concept of yesterday, today, and tomorrow and was struggling with communicating his feelings through language, but he could feel.  So that's what I addressed.

If I felt the loss, the strangeness, the sadness, the longing for my baby, wouldn't it follow that he would also feel something along those lines as well?  He's a littler human, after all.  I know his father was feeling it, too.

I spent a lot of time talking about my feelings and those of Hawk's.  I gave voice to them and hoped I was close to the mark since I knew he couldn't conceptualize them on his own.

When he cried after a transition or after seeing his father I would say, "I know you love your daddy very much and it hurts to be apart from him."  He'd nod agreement and cry some more.  I tried to incorporate the visceral feeling of loss, too.  "My heart hurts when I miss Daddy.  I bet your heart hurts, too."  I always ended chats like these with, "Don't worry, baby, it won't feel like this forever."

Be honest about the situation and realize you're not the only one who's living this new life
By acknowledging the suckiness of the situation and Hawk's initiation into a new palette of emotions I hoped to validate his experience of going back and forth and being separated from me (he was already used to separation from Rooster), and living with two parents who were struggling.

It fucking sucked.  Why wouldn't I tell him I knew that and that we were (as a disjointed family) all going through it together?

I believe one of the most powerful things a parent can do is to show her humanity.  When I feel sad or cranky I share my mood with Hawk, "Mommy is feeling really cranky right now and I'm sorry I've been short-tempered today."  Which segues nicely whenever he's cranky and being a bear, "Wow, you seem to be having a rough day today.  Is that true?"  He's able to identify and relate in (hopefully) a meaningful way.

I wanted to show Hawk that I knew he was there, too.  That he wasn't forgotten.  That he was a real participant in our lives, too.

Forgive yourself and be strong
Ok, so your life isn't turning out as you wanted, but that doesn't mean shit.  Not really.  It's something I had to embrace when I realized I wasn't going to have more than one child.  Accepting this new fragmented life seemed an easy extension of that.  And my hope is that I'm modeling flexibility and strength.

Co-parent, co-parent, co-parent
I know not all relationships end like mine.  Rooster and I have remained partners in all of this and for that I'm eternally grateful.  So, if you can manage to have any kind of connection with your ex, do it.  Keep anchoring routines as similar as possible, the language the same, the consequences.  Every little thing that you two can do to keep the tumultuousness of the new life at bay, do it.

And if you can manage it, see your kids on off weeks for hugs and kisses.

Don't stop being the parent
So, here I am telling you to be open, honest, and human with your little one, but there's a balance.  He's not your co-hort, though he's sharing this path with you.  He's still your charge and not to be leaned upon.  Don't cry to him, though a cry in front of him can be natural if not too alarming.  I've cried in front of Hawk a handful of times and he was given the opportunity to come and pat me, inquire after my feelings -- a good exercise in compassion.  I would tell him my heart hurt because I was a little sad, but that I would be ok and I was thankful for his hugs.  You don't want to overwhelm your little ones with the force of your feelings. 


Of course I'm no expert.  These are just things that helped make me navigate this emotional time, rules I implemented so I didn't feel so goddamned lost.  I also have no effing clue what my kid is gonna be like when he grows up; how he's going to view these first few years of his new life.  He will never have a memory of his father and I living together.  Never.  And he still shares his wish that we all lived together, though I think it's more about convenience than a memory he might have.

Like I tell my kid, we're tough, he's tough, we're all tough, and we'll get through this.  My fingers are crossed we're past the worst and I mostly believe that's true.


What do you guys think?  Do you have any specific questions?  Any other helpful suggestions?

Time, wishes, and raindrops

The Anniversary Clock that couldn't.

Today is Hawk's 4th birthday, which, to all you parents out there, is more than just a day of celebration.  It's also a day of remembrance.  Like, I'm sitting here at 7:49 am listening to the first rain in months and thinking, "Four years ago today I was in the hospital with Hawk nestled in my arms and happily latched onto my boob; Rooster was passed out from sheer exhaustion on the tiny little hospital bed to my left, his broad shoulders painfully folded in; nurses were coming in and out checking on my bleeding, asking me how I felt; and my heart and soul were realigning with the weight and honor of motherhood."

Yeah, so that's what I was doing on October 9th four years ago and today?  Today I'm alone in a dark apartment.  A massive rainstorm is bathing the parched ground outside and not a crack of sky is evident.  I can hear birds calling and raindrops on rooftops, the ticking of my keyboard and the purring of the cat.  But, I am alone.

Hawk is with his grandparents this morning.  I just called to wish him a happy birthday on the speaker phone.  Apparently, I woke up the whole house. "I can't talk right now because I'm too sleepy" he says in his Jersey accent. -- Goddamn, I love that little guy. --   But more importantly here, even if he weren't with PapaMimi, he'd be with Rooster.  He'd be apart from me.  On his birthday.

My life is so different from four years ago it seems almost unrecognizable.  The last month or so has been more brutal than all the rest.  I'm having a terrible time of reconciling my life today with my hopes from yesteryear.  I don't regret the divorce, but I regret needing one.  I wish that my life and my choices were the right ones for me and that my family were intact.  That I could get all my needs met and still be a "party of 3", be with my baby whenever I wanted to be, and safe with someone.

I don't want the old life I had, but I'm in such a place of flux.  I have no anchor, no base.  I'm in a transition and could be for years.

For our first anniversary, my parents gave Rooster and me an Anniversary Clock (this thing that you wind once a year and its pendulum twists).  The story goes that if it stops "ticking" then it's bad luck.  I'll never forget the day it did just that.  I laughed and said to my husband, "Oh my gawd!  Does this mean we're going to get divorced??  Say it isn't so!"  And he laughed warmly and said it was just a mechanical malfunction.  We never did get that clock to go for an entire year.

And yet, I wouldn't trade anything for Hawk.  I'll take all the broken clocks, the lonely mornings, the tears, the struggles and tribulations for one minute of knowing that kid.  I have to consciously beat down thoughts of losing him and remember to live my life with him as if we'll make it to 70 and 102 together.  The love and tenderness I feel for his little gassy, funny, precocious, sweet, thoughtful, and mercurial butt is all-consuming, all-defining.

Without trying to sound too dramatic, in some small way, motherhood is the negative space to my Me.  It shapes me without being me.  And so that makes today even more important because in a way I was born today, too.  It's still Hawk's big day, but I will also take this quiet morning alone to open my own little present to myself: knowing him and loving him.

Being awesome requires eye protection.

When I know I've done something right

My little boy's love handles are gone.

Being unemployed and muddling through a divorce is not fun.  No. fun. at. all.

I spend the better part of my day feeling like shit because it's somehow my fault I'm unemployed, because, naturally, if I were doing it right I'd have a job.  The other part of my day I'm feeling half way between joyous at being out of a painful relationship and crushed that my partnership with a wonderful human being is forever relegated to "father of my child" instead of "partner forever."  There's also a whole lot of swearing, laughing, searching, thinking and hustling going on, too, but that's the gist.

Sunday, as you all know, was Father's Day and Rooster decided he'd like me to join him and Hawk for the day.  It was my custodial day and I would have been happy to let them hang together sans moi, but I was happy to be a familial unit, too. 

Rooster and I have so many relationships with each other right now. We are co-parents, divorce adversaries (and allies), friends, and exes.  It's a lot to manage. 

Sometimes I have to ask him to not cross the streams when I hear him start a sentence with, "So..." I know it means DIVORCE and depending on which relationship I'm in with him at that moment I might have to say, "Please, can we just put that on hold and just hang today?"  He obliges, but I know he's waiting for the moment when the paradigm shifts and he can get whatever's on his mind out into the space between us.

Sunday was all friend and co-parent day.  Hawk has really melted into our new family structure and no longer clings to one or the other of us when we're all together.  We swam at Barton Springs and ate at a favorite greasy spoon.  When we dropped off Rooster Hawk was sad to see him go and even before we were out of the driveway he was saying he missed his Daddy.

I don't know how many times I've said something like, "I know you miss Daddy, Baby.  I bet it hurts in your heart, huh?"  He'll respond in the affirmative and I'll go on, "Daddy misses you, too.  And when you're with Daddy Mommy misses you and you miss me, too.  We all miss each other these days, but it's ok.  We all love each other and when you're apart from someone you love, sometimes it hurts.  It'll get better, I promise." 

He tells me misses me whenever he's with Rooster and that he loves me very much.  We hug, we hug tighter.  We talk endlessly about MISSING SOMEONE.  Oh God, how it breaks my heart that he's so familiar with this ache; his little, bitty heart.  Missing someone.  GOD.

And then Sunday nights and Monday mornings are heavy-hearted ones for the both of us.  By now Hawk knows that he's going to stay the night with Daddy the night after school on Monday.  He's excited, but then gets quiet.  "I live with Daddy, and you, and Papa-Mimi.  I live in lots of places.  But I really just want to live with you."

I know he doesn't mean it literally -- when he's with Rooster he says the same thing -- but it's his longing, his anticipated missing of me that makes him say such a thing.  He knows he's loved by these three households and loves them all fiercely in return, but his mind is trying to catalog all the players in his life.  It has to make sense in some way.

"When I'm gone living with Daddy you need to be strong," he goes on.  "Don't cry, don't be upset.  I love you and I will miss you, too, but I will see you soon."  I burst into tears and hold him close to me.  Where has this child come from?? This sweet, amazing, brilliant, tender child.

"I will, Baby, I promise, but it's ok if I'm sad, too.  But I'll be ok.  I just love you very much and wish we could be together all the time.  But I want you to be with your daddy, too.  He also loves you very much and misses you when you're with me. This is what we all have to do.  We all have to be tough."

I don't know if I'm rambling, if I'm showing and sharing too much, but I'm overwhelmed.  By his kindness, my feelings, my life.  Fuck, this is hard.

But I know I'm doing something right if Rooster and I can identify our strengths and spend an afternoon together celebrating his fatherhood and if my little boy can self-assuredly pass between me and his father and his grandparents.   I might not always feel like a success, but I think that maybe I might be a bigger happy ending than I give myself credit for.  The job will come in time, but success -- to some degree -- is already here.

Expressionless

parle pas.

When you're someone who likes to share it's more than just imparting information that makes you tick.  It's a sense of connection, of vitality, of life.  When I share I get to feel how I make others feel, how my stories might resonate with them or make them laugh.  I love to see people bowled over from my ridiculous (true) stories or to feel their support in warm smiles and tight hugs.

But I can't share anymore.

I'm cut off from my heart, my emotions, my will to pretty much do anything other than put one foot in front of the other. 

But I like to think you'd be shocked to know it. 

I make a good show of it; the whole "fake it till you make it" thing really does work.  I'm feeling better this week than I have in months and I have been socializing with new and old friends regularly, giving myself a break, all while doing the hard ass work of sledging through divorce terms such as "custody," "community property," and naming the fucking cats in the divorce decree.  -- Yeah, Digby and Lola will be in ink on my divorce papers.  Lovely.  --

I know I don't hide it all all the time, but I try.  A select few have called me out for not being myself and I've asked to be allowed to go through my process my way and promised to do my best to stay connected to them.  They've agreed; they love me and are worried I may never return to my old self.  The truth is there is no way on earth I could come out of this the same person I went in, but I don't want anyone to worry unduly.  I'll be a new and improved version of Jessica on the other side of this.  I'm convinced of it.


Hawk and I have rounded the corner of Mommy-Hating that we were swirling around in like an eddy in an angry river.  When he's with me he's 100% Team Mommy, when he's with Rooster, it's Team Daddy.  I'm beginning to understand that he has no recollection of the two of us together, and when Rooster and I mix company on off weeks Hawk's whole equilibrium gets shoved out of whack. 

We've stopped so much mixing and things have stabilized and my heart doesn't break each time I hear, "No, Mommy, go!  I don't want you here!"  Well, that's a goddamned lie, it does break, but not with quite same vigor as it did before I figured it out. 

I've been holding so much back I imagine this is what it feels like to be male (sorry, dudes).  I never cracked when Hawk hurled toddler slurs at me, I never cry when my friends ask me how I'm doing.  I talk about the divorce, its proceedings and status, like it's my taxes. --  I stubbornly admit that I cried when I saw I had to name the cats in the divorce decree.  It was salt in my wound, the last straw.  I was a broken-backed camel, with a salty wound. -- I am in more control of myself now than I ever have been and not sharing is the key... well, that and being dead inside.

Bears hibernate and so do I.

But I'm luckier than those hairy bastards because spring comes each time I look into Hawk's eyes and when he tells me how very much he loves me.  Any disagreement, slight, or complication that's been on my mind ghosts away the second I am brought back to real life: to my son.  The one and only creature on this planet that matters.  The one for whom I'm working so hard for.


There's no accounting for the path of a life, but we can count on love.  For me, it's the love of my baby, my sweetest little one, and his for me.   This much I can share.  I can shout it from the rooftops and feel more human for it and not at all vulnerable or sad.  It's invigorating and life-affirming. 

Being with him is like coming up for air. 

Attachment parenting through separation: It makes it a little better

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama. This month our participants have shared the parenting essentials they could not live without. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.

(Ed note: Originally written for the carnival 2/2/11.)

I woke up in that cool, pre-dawn light today with my nose cold.  Austin is currently 18 degrees due to an arctic cold front.  I snuggled under my down comforter and stretched.  It'd been a rough night.  I'd woken up at 3, 4, 5, and now 6.  Hawk is sick.  Really, really sick.

It started two Sundays ago with swollen eyes and a pinkeye, ear-infection, and sinusitis diagnosis.  It was my week to have him and Rooster was in Kansas for a death in the family.  I parented solo, and happily; I was in total control of all his care.

This past weekend Hawk started out strong, but by Sunday he was clearly not doing well again.  Rooster returned to town and we did the switch.  Monday, I went to the house to see Hawk.  He looked like hell.  Rosy-cheeked, glassy-eyed, quiet.  Later that afternoon Rooster took Hawk back to the clinic and they diagnosed him with a slight infiltration of pneumonia in his right lung and now a double ear infection.

I was still hosting a friend of mine from out of town and as soon as I dropped her off at the airport I headed back to see Hawk.  Parting with him when he was so sick broke my heart.  I'm his mama.  I keep him safe and strong and well, right??  I stroke his hot cheek and tuck him in, get him his "cowd water," give him his medicine, keep track of his breathing and heart rate.  I am simply there.

But not any more.  Now I am a mile or two away, alone in my apartment texting every hour with his father.  I can't tell you how many times I've talked to Rooster about Hawk over the last few days and I'm grateful for that, but goddamn this is by far the worst feeling as a parent I've ever felt.  Not only is my baby sick (and really sick), but I am not there to comfort him.

If it wasn't for the simple bond that I've built with him through attachment parenting -- gentle, loving, and supportive -- I would lose my mother-lovin' mind right now.  Through all of this, this whole divorce/separation bullshit, I've relied heavily on my philosophies that being intuitive, meeting his needs, and believing in his strength will get us all through this.

Attachment parenting -- and the entire attachment theory in general -- posits that if you wholly meet the needs of a child they will survive when you are absent.  They will be ok.

I don't know... I feel like we're living proof that attachment parenting through separation works.  Hawk seems to have settled into his new routine a lot faster than other kids have.  Yeah, it's been hard, it's stressful, we all have our moments, but Rooster and I have learned to sink into the mild trauma of transitions and navigate them with little to no bumps along the way.  I can't speak highly enough of understanding developmental milestones and a child's cognitive abilities.  It's eye-opening and enlightening to say the least.

And this can be applied to any family, not just one who's cracked in two.  Any family can fall back on the tenets of gentle, natural parenting whenever there's a disturbance in the force, you know?  Any family can give their kid a break and look beyond the behavior to outside forces that might be causing it.

Yesterday Hawk spent the day with me so Rooster could work, but today Rooster is taking a sick day and I'll just go over to the house to relieve him for a few hours.  I'll get to be close to my baby and touch his soft cheeks and hold him close, and I'll get to fill my broken heart with his sweet baby love.

I cried a little this morning as I watched videos on my phone of Hawk dancing to Katy Perry and shouting, "Happy birthday!!" over and over.  He's so precious, so innocent.  Being apart from him is a special kind of hell that I have only had a month to get used to.  I know it'll get better, but damn...  I just thank my lucky stars that I've done it all the way I have so far.  I can't imagine my life without this connection.  It makes me feel lucky despite everything that's happening and for that I'm eternally grateful.


Visit Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

(This list will be live and updated by afternoon February 8 with all the carnival links.)

• Not Without Him — The love Starr at Taking Time shares with her husband is the foundation of her parenting.
• I Cannot Imagine Parenting Without B(.)(.)bs — From an uneducated dreamer to a breastfeeding mother of a toddler, nursing has forever changed Kristy at Strings to Things's relationship with her daughter and her outlook on life.
• Raising a Child in the Internet Village — When Jenn at Monkey Butt Junction has a question or concern about parenting, she turns to the Internet. What did parents do before Google?
• Partner in Crime and Parenting — Bethy at Bounce Me to the Moon can't imagine parenting without her husband's sense of humor - he brings her laughter and love every day.)
• I Make Milk — Patti at Jazzy Mama can't imagine trying to mother her babies without her breasts, but she could do it if she had to.
• New Perspectives Bring New Beginnings — MJ at Wander Wonder Discover, who is a former authoritarian mamma, has gained perspective via parenting.
• Time Out! — Mrs. Green at Little Green Blog explores how time apart can increase your capacity to give unconditionally.
• Unimaginable Without Him — Kristina at heyred designs is celebrating her amazing partner, without whom none of her parenting experience would be possible.
• My Parenting Necessity — Claire at The Adventures of Lactating Girl needs "me time" in order to be the Mama she wants to be.
• Babywearing As a Way of Life — Darcel at The Mahogany Way talks about the benefits of babywearing in everyday life.
• Parenting Partnership — Sometimes Abbie at Farmer's Daughter doesn't appreciate her husband enough, but she definitely couldn't imagine parenting without his help.
• Parenting Essentials — Momma Jorje loves her parenting products, but she needs you even more.
• My Parenting Must-Have: Support — Joella at Fine and Fair wrote a letter to her daughter about the role that support from friends and family plays in her mothering.
• More Than Just Hair — Think doing hair is full of fluff? Too girly? Useless? Karli from Curly Hairdo Ideas used to think so too.
• The Minimalist Parent — The parents at Living Peacefully with Children embrace a minimalist perspective when it comes to baby gear. A good sling is all they need.
• Without My Breasts — Charise at I Thought I Knew Mama can't imagine parenting without her breasts; here's why.
• Loves Books, Loves People — Seonaid at the Practical Dilettante discovers that the library is a perfect fit for her family's needs.
• An Ode to the Maya Wrap — RevMama's next child might be named Maya, because of her fondness for the sling.
• Avoiding the Padded Room — Pecky at Benny and Bex is here to testify that it takes a village to raise a child.
• My parenting essentials, from Tivo to battery-operated monstrosities — Lauren at Hobo Mama presents a list of parenting essentials you didn't even know you needed (and probably don't…).
• Attachment Parenting Through Separation: It Makes It a Little Better — Jessica at This Is Worthwhile talks about how she couldn't survive her separation without attachment parenting and the bond it's afforded her with her 3 year old son.
• Parenting Essentials — Deb Chitwood at Living Montessori Now shares the principles she used to parent her children from infants to adults.
• My Parenting Essentials — The things that are truly essential to Kim at In Desperate Need of Entertainment aren't things at all.
• I'm No One Without My Sling — How baby carrying is essential to the parenting of Jessica Claire at Crunchy-Chewy Mama.
• I Cannot Imagine Parenting Without... — Isil at Smiling Like Sunshine talks about what she needs to raise her children.
• February Carnival of Natural Parenting — Through her experiences over the last five and a half years, Casey at Love What Is has discovered her most important tool for parenting is using her instincts.

• CNP: I Cannot Imagine Parenting Without __________. — The Artsymama discloses the one thing that gave her back control of herself as a parent.
• Laugh Until I Cry — Laughing with her sons keeps Acacia at Fingerpaint & Superheroes connected and grounded.
• I Cannot Imagine Parenting Without — Luschka at Diary of a First Child realizes what the one thing she can't imagine parenting without is, and it turns out it's not a thing after all.
• It Takes Two — Here are a few of the reasons why Jenn at Adventures Down Under cannot imagine parenting without her fabulous husband.
• Stopping to Listen — Though it wasn't easy at first, Knocked Up - Knocked Over cannot imagine parenting her daughter without listening first to what she is telling her.
• The Essence of Parenting — There are many wonderful resources that make life easier for Michelle at the Parent Vortex to parent, but the essence is the relationship between parent and child.
• What I Cannot Live Without — Sybil at Musings of a Milk Maker considers her computer to be a parenting lifeline.
• True Blessings: White Noise and Grandparents — Kat at Loving {Almost} Every Moment can't live without her white noise machine and the support of her parents.
• The Necessities! — What "stuff" does a natural parent like Lily, aka Witch Mom really need? Not much, it turns out.
• Mama Showed Me — Mama Mo at Attached at the Nip writes about how parenting wisdom is passed on by example.
• Ode to the Loo — For Joni Rae at Tales of a Kitchen Witch, the bathroom is her safe place, where she can take a minute to calm down if she is feeling touched out.
• Go, Mama. Go! — Andrea!!! at Ella-Bean & Co. has been able to integrate her many roles through her get-up-and-go parenting essential, exercise!
• My Other Half — Becky at Old New Legacy realizes what a relief it is to have her husband parent alongside her.
• Grace, Love, and Coffee — MrsH at Fleeting Moments realizes that lifelines can take the form of the profound, or the mundane. Both are ok.
• Supportive Spouse, Check! — There are so many parenting tools and gadgets that are superfluous, but the one essential, for Danielle at born.in.japan, has been her supportive spouse.
• Why I'm a Babywearer — Meredith at Becoming Mamas reflects on the ways babywearing has enhanced her mama baby relationship...and made life easier to boot.
• It's Marvelous Out Here, Kiddo! — Rachael at The Variegated Life can't imagine parenting in the big city without the marvels of Prospect Park to share with her Critter.
• Yes, Thank You — Amy at Anktangle offers tips on how to ask for and accept help, an essential for successful parenting.
• Parenting Essentials Checklist: Mom’s Inner Rebel and Her Kids’ Voices — Olivia at Write About Birth reflects on raising global citizens and saying no to societal norms.
• Eco-Mama Online! — An Eco-Mama living in the mountains of a nature island, Terri at Child of the Nature Isle finds it essential to connect to nature and to connect online.
• Sorry, We Just Sold the Last One — Nev at The Adventures of Lime confesses she missed out the day they handed out patience.
• Laugh — Tashmica at The Mother Flippin' Blog reveals her super power, her talisman agains mean mommy.
• My Priceless Parenting Resource — What do books, a magazine community, my mother and the local playgroup have in common? Lucy at Dreaming Aloud tells us...
  
• The Gift of Shared Time — Tree at Mom Grooves strives to experience the world from her daughter's perspective.
• Follow the Giggles — Dionna at Code Name: Mama can’t live without the sound of her child’s giggles - come watch her video and you’ll agree!
• Can I Mommy Without Boob? — Emily at Crunchy(ish) Mama shares her fears about weaning and losing part of that mother/child bond.

Divorce and little ones: Assume strength, not fragility

Me and my tiger hawk.

I heard a thing on NPR the other day, a book review of “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.” It's been making the internet rounds and lots of bloggers have jumped on it.  This isn't a post about how she's right or wrong.  Her book is a memoir, about the journey she took as a mother, and I'm not one to judge her choices.  I want to talk about what struck me most about her book: the idea that Chinese parents assume strength, not fragility, in their children's psyches and persons; that the harder they are on their little ones the stronger they will become; that they'll rise to the challenge, grow emotional and intellectual muscle.

In the counseling world, we call it resilience.  It's what we console ourselves with when we come across horrific stories about abuse, neglect and pain: People are resilient.  They'll be ok.  And it's true.  Wars, disasters, epic genocides, they all happen every day and the human spirit rises up and marches on.  We find the beauty in the little things, the happiness in a lover's eye, the joy on a baby's face, a dog wagging its tail.

So, in that sense, I agree with Amy Chua and the Chinese assumption about children.  They are strong because we are all strong and it's exactly what I've been assuming of Hawk these last few months, and especially the last week and a half now that he's at school.

When we assume excellence or strength of our children -- and back it up with confident actions such as patience, understanding and a willingness to let our kids "get it wrong" -- we are planting the seeds of courage and confidence.  I know that having his parents suddenly in two completely different places has shattered Hawk's understanding of his universe, but I also know that he can adapt and not be a broken kid because of it.

It kills me that "this is his life now" (as my mother likes to point out), but it's true.  It is.  He has a mommy in one place and a daddy in the other.  Occasionally we're all together.  But mostly we're not.  Hawk's emotions run high whenever there's a transition or even when we're together.  Rooster and I have had long discussions on how to handle the raw energy Hawk exudes during these times and instead of squelching it, we redirect it, let it run its course, or simply make sure he feels plugged in to us.

Hawk's strength is borne out of the fact that he has no buffer, no façade.  What he feels begs to come out and if I, or Rooster, tell him it's wrong I wholeheartedly believe that at that point we will be harming him.  Teaching a child to deny his feelings is a one-way ticket to Shitsville as an adolescent or young adult.

It's not easy to let a 3 year old run circles around your ankles when your sister calls or when you're trying to have a grown-up chat with his father, but rather than yell at him and scare him into submission I remember that he's upset: none of this is normal for him, yet; and: he's 3.  I set consistent boundaries.  I tell him to chill out in his room with his blankie and his paci while Mommy finishes chatting with Daddy.  I don't let him sneak out of his room instead insisting he stay within the bounds of his room.

I feel like a hard ass when I do this, but giving him solid fence-lines will make him feel safer than buying into (and losing) the little battles he so loves to engage me in, particularly because his life (our lives) are so helter skelter right now.  So when I heard about Amy Chua I related, though on a very distant level.  I am the hard ass in this whole process of rebuilding our lives.  I demand strength from everyone and insist on firm boundaries, believing in the end that I am laying the foundation for a strength of will and self in my little boy.

And it seems to be working.

He is open, loving and trusting.  He likes people.  He's cautious of, but not put off by new situations.  He tells me he wants to be alone to cry.  He tells me he'd like company while he cries.  He knows he is the master of his body and who gets to touch him and when.  He understands what it means to be loved and to love.  He likes to be in a bad mood occasionally.  He relishes his freedom but easily acquiesces to the rules.

I am not perfect -- oh fucking God am I not perfect, let me be very frank about that -- but I am trying to build a human being who doesn't hate himself, who believes in himself, and who loves others.  And I am going to fight tooth and nail to get that job done.

I got one out of those three when I left adolescence and I paid the price for all my self-loathing and nonacceptance and I can see clearly what I needed from my parents as I grew up: 1) a sense of self-worth born out of trusting myself, that what I felt was indeed acceptable; and 2) that I was not responsible for my parents and their feelings.  Hawk has two parents who are hurting and stumbling right now, but if we start to doubt his resilience, his strength in all these matters, I believe we'll be tripping him up later.

When the life of a family breaks apart it is the duty of the parents to protect the emotional worlds of their children.  The kids had no part in the break up of the marriage, it's not their responsibility to hold it together, to make the parents feel better, to not react.  So I'll do my part to protect Hawk from me and my own emotional spills, but I will also expect him to be as strong as his little 3 year old self can handle.  I will be sensitive to his limits and to his capabilities, but I will always shelter him from me and the other adults in our lives.

It surprises me that I expect so much from him, much like Chua's "tiger mother," but I feel I am doing him a service.  We all need someone to expect something from us lest we expect nothing from ourselves.

I am my own version of a natural/attachment parenting tiger mother, and Hawk is my little tiger hawk: brave, strong, and real.  And later he will reap the rewards of his own strengths and successes.