When your 10-year-old needs a break from the world and you
By a fine balance
belinda ray
2007-05-02
About a week ago, close to tears on the passenger side of my car, my son informed me that he needed a vacation to get away from it all. He's 10.
The phrase was surreal coming out of his mouth kind of like Dick Cheney asking for a hug and I wasn't sure how best to respond. What could "it all" possibly mean to a 10-year-old?
If we'd been talking about me, I could have made a lengthy list. Bills, propaganda, reality TV, dust bunnies, cat vomit, flabby abdominals, the
shingles and siding that blew off our house in the recent, freakish, Wizard of Oz like winds. But this was my son 10 years old with no real responsibilities and ample time to read, play games and annoy his brother.
I asked exactly what it was he felt he needed to get away from, but he wasn't able to specify. So instead I tried to nail down what "it all" was not.
Quickly, I determined that "it all" was not a particular person not his brother, not me, not his father, not my soon-to-be husband or his father's new (as of a year ago) wife. Not our extended family, not his friends, and not, despite my contention that it all comes back to Bush, the actions or policies of the current administration.
With interpersonal conflicts ruled out, he suggested that perhaps his hectic schedule was the problem. But then I pointed out that he only had 3 planned activities per week, and he agreed that probably wasn't it either. So I tried a new tack.
I asked him what kind of vacation he thought he needed and where he would like to go. With a wistful look, he turned to me and said, "Caitlin and
Dan's," which I should have seen coming.
Caitlin is a beautiful young woman who has been caring for my children since she was 12 and they were in-utero. A virtual Mary Poppins, she quickly
transcended the role of babysitter, becoming a combination big sister and favorite family friend. Dan is her charming and hilarious husband, who (like the boys) enjoys fantasy, science fiction and video games. They live in the woods, and they own an Xbox360. What could possibly be better?
Thinking that perhaps my son was simply angling for a day of gluttony video games and mini-Oreos, staying up late and having cake for breakfast I asked him, "And what would be different at Caitlin and Dan's?"
With a small shrug, he told me, "None of you would be there," and I instantly understood.
"It all" referred to us his four parents and the expectations we place upon him. Daily chores, academics, good manners, clean underwear they're
all important and absolutely necessary, but once in a while, I realized, so is a bit of indulgence.
So I called Caitlin and she happily hosted her honorary siblings for a night of fun and games. They came back bleary-eyed from all of the screen time but with big smiles, and yes, definitely feeling as though they'd had a mini-vacation from it all.
Now if I can just plan one for me ...
Belinda Ray is a homeschooling mother and freelance writer who finds time to write when her children and their friends have lightsaber battles in the yoga room (but only if the laundry is already folded and everyone's been fed).
The phrase was surreal coming out of his mouth kind of like Dick Cheney asking for a hug and I wasn't sure how best to respond. What could "it all" possibly mean to a 10-year-old?
If we'd been talking about me, I could have made a lengthy list. Bills, propaganda, reality TV, dust bunnies, cat vomit, flabby abdominals, the
shingles and siding that blew off our house in the recent, freakish, Wizard of Oz like winds. But this was my son 10 years old with no real responsibilities and ample time to read, play games and annoy his brother.
I asked exactly what it was he felt he needed to get away from, but he wasn't able to specify. So instead I tried to nail down what "it all" was not.
Quickly, I determined that "it all" was not a particular person not his brother, not me, not his father, not my soon-to-be husband or his father's new (as of a year ago) wife. Not our extended family, not his friends, and not, despite my contention that it all comes back to Bush, the actions or policies of the current administration.
With interpersonal conflicts ruled out, he suggested that perhaps his hectic schedule was the problem. But then I pointed out that he only had 3 planned activities per week, and he agreed that probably wasn't it either. So I tried a new tack.
I asked him what kind of vacation he thought he needed and where he would like to go. With a wistful look, he turned to me and said, "Caitlin and
Dan's," which I should have seen coming.
Caitlin is a beautiful young woman who has been caring for my children since she was 12 and they were in-utero. A virtual Mary Poppins, she quickly
transcended the role of babysitter, becoming a combination big sister and favorite family friend. Dan is her charming and hilarious husband, who (like the boys) enjoys fantasy, science fiction and video games. They live in the woods, and they own an Xbox360. What could possibly be better?
Thinking that perhaps my son was simply angling for a day of gluttony video games and mini-Oreos, staying up late and having cake for breakfast I asked him, "And what would be different at Caitlin and Dan's?"
With a small shrug, he told me, "None of you would be there," and I instantly understood.
"It all" referred to us his four parents and the expectations we place upon him. Daily chores, academics, good manners, clean underwear they're
all important and absolutely necessary, but once in a while, I realized, so is a bit of indulgence.
So I called Caitlin and she happily hosted her honorary siblings for a night of fun and games. They came back bleary-eyed from all of the screen time but with big smiles, and yes, definitely feeling as though they'd had a mini-vacation from it all.
Now if I can just plan one for me ...
Belinda Ray is a homeschooling mother and freelance writer who finds time to write when her children and their friends have lightsaber battles in the yoga room (but only if the laundry is already folded and everyone's been fed).