Julie Hale's blog https://www.kidsinthehouse.com/blogs/julie-hale en My Little Angel is Growing Up! (But don't tell him I still call him that!) https://www.kidsinthehouse.com/blogs/julie-hale/my-little-angel-is-growing-up-but-dont-tell-him-i-still-call-him-that <div class="field field-name-field-article-image field-type-image field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><img typeof="foaf:Image" src="https://www.kidsinthehouse.com/sites/default/files/sitemgr_photo_2000250744.jpg" width="161" height="249" alt="" /></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="content:encoded"><p>"Mom! Don't follow the bus, just pull over here and we'll wait. And don't look at anybody, either!"</p> <p>I was dropping off my son to meet a school bus that would take him to his new middle school. We'd never done this before, and he'd never ridden a bus to school. In the recent past, I had driven him right up to the front of his school and let him out - with a kiss and hug and a 'I love you, have a great day,' exchange before he got out.</p> <p>Before that, he would want me to park the car and walk with him to his classroom. We would stand quietly together in front of his classroom with his little, warm hand in mine and wait for the teacher to open the door.</p> <p>And even before that, I remember carrying him into the classroom, and then sitting quietly in one of those back breaking little toddler size chairs while he acclimated himself to the idea of being in a room full of other kids. We were used to being home alone together all day long, doing as we pleased, and it was a big transition for my little angel.</p> <p>I sat in those tortuous little chairs on the sidelines for about 10 days, before the teacher came up to me and gently suggested that he seemed to be adjusting nicely, and that maybe from now on I could just drop him off in the classroom. So the next day we said our goodbyes at the door to the classroom.  My little angel gave me a big kiss and hug, saying, “I love you, Mommy!” and then walked in on his own. He looked back - but just to blow me another kiss, which I caught and pressed to my heart. The teacher was right, he was ready.</p> <p>And -  I realized I wasn't.</p> <p>I had heard the story of this moment before, and scoffed at it. I always had figured I wasn't going to be THAT kind of mom. I had a life and career outside of my kids, I didn't need them to affirm my self worth or identity, right?  Ha.  In that moment, I realized it wasn't about my ego. It wasn’t about my head, but about my heart. My little angel was a gift of love, and being around him reminded me of everything good and right with the world. He was pure hope and joy personified, and I was so grateful to be with him.</p> <p>But I knew from that day on, I would have to share my little angel with the world.</p> <p>I think I'm preaching to the choir if I say that raising children is the toughest job on the planet.  It feels like part of your heart and soul has been wrenched from deep inside your very being and is now walking around outside your body in the form of a small helpless little child that needs your constant protection and guidance.</p> <p>At the same time, 'kids will suck the life out of you' a friend of mine once said, and he was right. I remember the feeling of FINALLY kissing those little heads good night, only to collapse in bed and wonder where I was going to find the strength to do it all again the next day. They require so much of your mental and physical energy, day in and day out -</p> <p>Until one day, they DON'T.</p> <p>Back in the car, my son checked his hair in the mirror one more time before mumbling “See ya” and getting out to stride casually towards the bus.</p> <p>I watched him go. He didn't look back as he boarded the bus, he didn't need to anymore. But as he reached up and grabbed the door handle of the bus, I imagined I saw a glimpse of his angel wings peeking out from beneath his coat.</p> <p>'Fly my little angel, fly...the world is a lucky place to have you in it,' I thought to myself as I started up the car and drove away.</p> <p><em><span style="line-height: 1.538em;">Julie Hale, LMFT is a psychotherapist in private practice on the Westside. She has 3 children, all of which are growing up way, WAY too fast. To learn more about her please visit www.Juliehale.net</span></em></p> </div></div></div> Sat, 15 Mar 2014 22:44:04 +0000 Julie Hale 46739 at https://www.kidsinthehouse.com https://www.kidsinthehouse.com/blogs/julie-hale/my-little-angel-is-growing-up-but-dont-tell-him-i-still-call-him-that#comments Everything Will be Okay https://www.kidsinthehouse.com/blogs/julie-hale/everything-will-be-okay <div class="field field-name-field-article-image field-type-image field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><img typeof="foaf:Image" src="https://www.kidsinthehouse.com/sites/default/files/screen_shot_2014-02-19_at_1.20.45_pm.png" width="351" height="358" alt="" /></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="content:encoded"><div class="section"> <div class="layoutArea"> <div class="column"> <p><span style="font-size:12px;"><span style="font-family:arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">I was rushing my youngest child to her lacrosse game, but still had to stop to drop off my son at the skate park first. While driving, my oldest daughter had called and was hysterically telling me why I HAVE to turn around and pick her up NOW so she can get a book at the store she needs TONIGHT, and HOW could I have forgotten that?</span></span></p> <p><span style="font-size:12px;"><span style="font-family:arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">As I pulled over to drop my son, he noticed I was smiling to myself. He looked at me like I had gone crazy. <em>“Why are you smiling?”</em> he said with amazement, <em>“That is so messed up.”</em> My daughter was still shrilling in my other ear about how I NEVER get things right, and I’m ALWAYS late, but I just looked at my son, smiled even wider and said, <em>“Because everything will be okay.”</em> Shaking his head, he mumbled, <em>“Okay Mom. You’re nuts. Love you,”</em> and got out of the car. As I watched him go, I thought, I’ll try to explain myself to him later. (Like, when he’s 20!)</span></span></p> <p><span style="font-size:12px;"><span style="font-family:arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">I was smiling because - in my mind, everything really <span style="font-style: oblique;">was </span>okay. How is that possible, you ask? Well, before you think I’m nuts too, let me explain.</span></span></p> <p><span style="font-size:12px;"><span style="font-family:arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">You see, everybody was getting their needs met (maybe not in the timeframe that they exactly wished for) but close enough. It was all going to be okay, meaning fine. Done. Accomplished. Yes, I had started to panic in the car a bit, but remembered to use a little trick I know. I applied some perspective to the situation by just asking myself; will these events matter at the end of the day/week/month/year? Was this little window of time going to be remembered as remarkable? Not in the least. So I was doing good enough, and everything was actually <span style="font-style: oblique;">okay.</span></span></span></p> <p><span style="font-size:12px;"><span style="font-family:arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">The Spanish painter Salvador Dali said, <em>“Have no fear of perfection, you’ll never reach it.”</em> As a Mom, I take great comfort in that thought. It allows me to ease up on myself and my life, and appreciate it for what it is; sometimes messy, far from perfect, but always interesting.</span></span></p> <p><span style="font-size:12px;"><span style="font-family:arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">As much as we are reminded to not over schedule our lives and allow for a little breathing room, sometimes it just doesn’t happen that way. We need to cut ourselves some slack when things don’t go like clockwork. We also need to have tools available to help us manage ourselves effectively because those stressful moments are always going to be there. Our lives get so full of ‘must-dos’ and ‘wanna-Dos’ that all too often I have those times when I think, how the heck am I going to manage it all?</span></span></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="column"> <p><span style="font-size:12px;"><span style="font-family:arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">Well, there is a simple way to manage it. It doesn’t even require changing the family calendar.(Although maybe mine needs a little reworking) It just requires a little <span style="font-style: oblique;">shift </span>inside in your heart and head. It requires broadening your perspective (remember the question: will this matter in a day/week/month/year?) and knowing that everything will be okay.</span></span></p> <p><span style="font-size:12px;"><span style="font-family:arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">Example: You’re late (as I usually am) and stuck in traffic (it’s LA after all) and the kids are waiting at school for you. What can you do at that moment? Does it help the situation to stress and sweat about it, every moment of inching up the 405 freeway towards your exit? Of course it doesn’t. So this is the moment where you make the SHIFT. Take a deep breath, let it out slowly. Take another one while you’re there, you’ve got the time. Now think to yourself, everything will be okay. And <span style="font-style: oblique;">mean </span>it, when you say that to yourself, really feel comfort in those words, because it’s true. Here’s your proof, just apply the perspective question: at the end of the day/week/month/year, will this crisis matter? Be remembered at all? Chances are no, it won’t. The day will unfold, and it will be good enough, and EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY. Doesn’t that make you want to smile to yourself, too?</span></span></p> <p><span style="font-size:12px;"><span style="font-family:arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">Julie Hale, MA, LMFT, RYT - is a psychotherapist in private practice in West Los Angeles, specializing in family issues such as divorce, single parenting, adolescents and parent/child relationships. She has 3 children and 6 pets, all living together </span></span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.538em;">okay in a perfectly imperfect home. </span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.538em;">For more information, please visit her blog and website at </span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.538em;">www.halejulie.net </span></p> </div> <p> </p> </div></div></div> Wed, 19 Feb 2014 21:20:10 +0000 Julie Hale 46338 at https://www.kidsinthehouse.com https://www.kidsinthehouse.com/blogs/julie-hale/everything-will-be-okay#comments