A few years ago, the phone rang at 5:30 in the morning. I answered it, barely coherent, forming words as best as I could at that hour. It was a snow chain call, and as I shared Class Mom duty with another mom, the day started early. I hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, and even though we were barely awake, we were awake enough to have a conversation. I mentioned some issues I was having with Nick’s (then) teacher, and she agreed wholeheartedly, having already gone to the teacher several times about her own concerns. I said I had already made an appointment with the teacher, not being able to contain myself, or shrug off the issues, much longer.
And then she said something that changed everything for me.
“I am very comfortable being THAT parent.”
When it comes to advocating for my children, sometimes you have to be THAT parent.
The one that’s always raising their hand.
The one that’s questioning things that don’t seem right.
The one that sends in notes.
The one that’s always present, both literally and figuratively.
I have never had a problem being THAT parent.
But after my friend made that comment, I never looked back.
No longer felt guilt about it. I don’t apologize for it.
If my kids need me to step up, step in, or intervene on their behalf, I will.
Each and every time.
{And this is a completely different situation than the “let the kids handle things on their own” topic. I am, in this moment, talking about things that only adults can handle and are beyond the scope for kids to navigate on their own.}
And as I heavily advocated on behalf of Nick over the past week, I am reminded of how important the task of being an advocate for my children actually is.
Last Wednesday night, I was out to dinner with a girlfriend, and Mystic called. His daughter was watching the kids, and Nick was having chest pains. Couldn’t catch his breath. I called home right away, and left the restaurant within minutes.
Listening to your child on the phone in tears will do it every time.
Mystic and I pulled up to the house at the same time. He beat me upstairs. I told him he didn’t have to come over, that I would be there in a few minutes. He, of course, paid no heed, and as I type this, I’m reminded again of what a wonderful guy he is.
We assessed the situation. Tried to calm Nick down. Decided to see how the night progressed and reevaluate in the morning.
He ended up feeling okay enough to go to school, but by the time I picked him up after school, he wasn’t feeling any better.
We went straight to the pediatrician’s office. I was leaning towards a pulled muscle, and for the time being, she agreed, advising us to go to the ER if it got worse.
Hours later, as he was clutching his chest, and getting winded after climbing a short flight of stairs, I called The Ex and headed to the ER. He met us there.
With The Ex having had a heart attack two years ago, and other heart issues on his side of the family, this was scaring the bejebus out of me to say the least, and I wanted to make sure I was doing my due diligence, advocating, and that his heart was ok.
EKG. Chest x-ray. Consults with the on-call doctor, who happened to be a pediatrician specializing in heart issues as well. Did we luck out or what?
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