One very important goal of mine as a parent is to prepare my kids with the tools that they will need to one day go out in this world on their own. I want them to be able to face any situation in front of them, whether it is by calling on things they have been taught or hitting their knees and asking for God’s help.
Last weekend, we went swimming at one of our favorite places. While both relieving and frightening at the same time, my kids have passed the swim test to be able to swim freely in the deep end. At this particular place, there is a large iceberg out in the middle of the deep end that all the kids flock to. Once there, they can climb up to the top and either slide down or jump off.
A lot of kids climb up and slide or jump back down immediately. Maylie, on the other hand, is one who needs to sit and access the situation before she makes a decision. After much personal debate, climbing a stair or two and then climbing back down, she finally made it to the top of the iceberg. Once there, however, she froze. Kids went up and kids went down, while Maylie sat there holding on for dear life.
From the sidelines, dry and with no intentions of getting in the water that day, I watched her. Even from a distance, I could see the worry on her face, that panicked look of indecision and regret. While Reagan and others tried to talk her into going down the slide, through tears, all she could muster out was that she wanted me.
Part of me really wanted her to figure it out – she got up there, she could get back down. But the other part of my pulled towards my baby girl up there freaked out by what her next steps should be. Maybe, this wasn’t one of those times that she needed to figure it out but rather one where she needed to know that I would be there for her.
So, I started into the water towards her. I didn’t jump in and swim as fast as I could, I just walked slowly so as to get used to it and give her some time to calm down.
On my way, I could see that she was almost in a full-blown panic attack, so I shouted out to her to do her five senses. It took a couple of minutes, but when I reached the bottom of the stairs, she had already completed five things she could hear, four things she could smell, and was working on three things she could see. As I climbed up, she finished off two things she could touch and one thing she could taste.
When I reached her at the top, she was calmer and kept thanking me for coming to her. It was there, on the top of a big blow-up glacier in the middle of the deep end, that I reminded her that I would always be there for her, that no matter what predicament she found herself in, I would be there to help her sort out her next steps if needed.
Together, we went through her options. Jumping off was completely out of the question. While the slide would be the safest and easiest way down, she insisted on walking down the stairs. We discussed the risks. We could slip on the stairs and land on the mat below, which could hurt, so we would need to make sure we held on tight to the handles the entire way down. We walked through the plan, and then slowly, one by one, we made our way down the stairs and back safely to the water.
Once down there, she looked at me with the softest eyes and apologized for making me come all the way up there to get her and thanked me about 10 times for doing so. She had recognized that she put herself in a situation that was scary for her, and while she already knew some tools that she could use to help her, she needed someone to remind her of those tools and help her along the way.
She’s 10 now, but one day she will be in high school and may find herself in a situation where she cannot figure out the safest way out. And my hope — my prayer — is that she remembers this iceberg, that she remembers that if she makes a decision that puts her in a place that scares her, she can call out for me.
I also pray that she knows, no matter what, that I will come to her. I will help her.
While the end goal for my kids when they do grow up is to prepare them accordingly, they aren’t grown up yet. In the meantime, I truly hope that I am showing them that when they do eventually go, regardless of the situation that they may find themselves in, I will always be there for them if, or when, they need me.
Sarah (Pitson) Shrader was born and raised in Lima. She is a Lima Central Catholic and Tiffin University graduate. Sarah is a full-time working mama who enjoys writing about her somewhat crazy, always adventurous life as a mother. She lives in Bath Township with her daughters and writing inspirations, Maylie and Reagan.
