Resilience in Life – The Silly Putty Kind

I keep thinking about silly putty. Maybe it is the encounter our cat had with it (see the blog from June to get the gist of our war with this gooey substance) or maybe I just equate it with childhood which we know is full of resilient moments. I mean, think about it. You can break it in half and it rejoins the other half as if nothing happened. You can mash it flat as a pancake and then roll it into a ball that will bounce around the room like a ricocheting bullet in a Wiley Coyote cartoon. You know, on second thought, we were at Natural Bridge Caverns today, and that would have been a hoot. Just think – a ball of Silly Putty put into action somewhere down in the caves. Must put that on my list of things to ponder. Oh seriously, I’ve been there several times and there aren’t any plans to excavate any further so, unless this little charade does damage to the caves, this is worthy of getting banned from the park. I know, this is an “a-ha” moment into why my children are they way they are but, come on, you know you’d love to see this…

Any way, resilience. We started this insane week with oldest son Christopher at Boy Scout camp. Apparently, we missed quite a few communications regarding some of the activities that were going to be happening, particularly some bizarre ritual called the “Death March.” This is part of the Wilderness Survival Merit Badge that Scouts can earn when they learn what to do when lost in the wilderness that culminates when dropped off on the side of a mountain with a compass, some twine, and a pocket knife to show what they have learned. I’m totally exaggerating here but you get the gist. The person in charge was sorely lacking in communication and leadership skills for this event – so much so that we wound up having a rather animated conversation over the phone as to which end of the donkey he could be classified. I have to take a moment here to pay homage to Christopher’s home troop leader, Steve Shapiro. If he was here right now, I would hug him. I never truly appreciated his constant communication until now, when I didn’t have any. Steve is truly a gem among people who work with children. I have to say it is because of his organizational skills and hard work that Christopher made it through this week and still wants to continue with Scouts. Although, with the recent torrential rains and heat, I can’t fathom why anyone would want to sleep outdoors in July. Must be a boy thing.

In the midst of the phone calls of “Please, I want to come home,” I got to take youngest Alexander to the E.R. While sitting down to an impromptu lunch meeting with my boss, I hear my cell phone ringing from down the hall – not once, but twice. I simply KNOW it is from my house and that it doesn’t bode well. Isn’t amazing how your senses become so acutely honed once you become a parent. Anyway, upon calling the house, Cecilia answers with, “It’s Alex. He fell. I’ve stopped the bleeding.” Well, that was all it took. I was out of my office faster than Seattle Slew on his last leg of the Triple Crown. Just for a point of reference, Cecilia was almost finished with her training to become a pediatric nurse when her family moved to the US. If she calls, she means business and I move. No questions asked. Thankfully, she applied an arnica salve and the bleeding stopped. I have to say that anyone who even remotely comes into contact with children needs this stuff. I’m not talking about the gel you can find at GNC. I mean the kind that is in the authentic Mexican products section at Foodarama – this stuff stops bleeding, bruises, and, I would be willing to bet, vampires. Long story short, a $125 ER copay and a three hour wait later, we’ve Dermablended his wound together (he tripped, hit the edge of a shelve, and cut a ¾” slit in his forehead). The next day, Indiana Jones Jr. is back in action.

Now my turn. I know I don’t really count because I’m the parent, but, wah, too bad. I come home from work last night just to pack up the car and get as close as possible to pick up Christopher from camp at the crack-o-dawn this morning. Meanwhile, I have this new class I’m taking – Developing and implementing teams and groups. One would think that I would be rather adept at this in light of my familial standings. Lord knows I deal with group dynamics on a daily basis. “Mom, he has on my Indiana Jones shirt!” “Honey, it doesn’t fit you anymore.” “I don’t care. He can’t wear it.” are common war themes throughout my days. But apparently, grown ups are even worse. They have free will. What is supposed to be a small group session turns into me playing on the web site all alone. What turns into a group assignments, turns into one person not showing up at all, another decides she doesn’t want to play, and one, well, not too sure. I feel like I’m on the playground again!

Fast-forward to tonight. Christopher is home albeit smelly and muddy. A tip to pass along to any parent who might have a Scout up and coming – after a camping trip, don’t bring the trunk inside – unpack it on the porch. Trust me, I’m singing the praises of the person who told me this (love you, Amy!) and you’ll thank me too. There are just some smells you never forget. Alexander is back to jumping off the chair while humming the theme song to Indiana Jones. He did bump his head on the pillow on the floor and looked up at me as if to ask why it hurt. Seriously? What is wrong with this child? Shelby suggested a helmet. And here I am all assignments submitted. Guess what? While at some point during this past week, right up until a few hours ago, there was a time when I wasn’t sure any of us would make it. I was sure our particular endeavors would drive us over the proverbial edge. But we all made it through, none the worse for wear.

I have to think back to a person who crossed my path. She seriously believed that it was her job to ensure that her children never experienced a moment of unhappiness. Phffftttt. Wouldn’t her kids would be miserable in my house! Seriously though, as parents, we need to help our children, and sometimes ourselves, see that disappointment happens. Things are hard; they aren’t always the way we want them. However, at the end of the day, as my grandmothers used to say, the things that don’t kill us, make us stronger. While that may be a little extreme today considering we don’t have small pox or Nazis, the ideal is still the same. Christopher made it through stormy weather, Alexander made it through a split head, and I made it through difficult people. At the end of the day, we all went to Blockbuster and rented “The Tooth Fairy” and had sushi/Kid’s Cuisine/chicken nuggets depending on the age group. We were all okay. We all had become Silly Putty.