Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Braving the Biffy to Find the North Star


I am not sure what part bugs me to most: the dirt and sand all over everything, trying to make meals without the benefit of refrigeration or a pantry, the ocean water activities, or the biffy.

I am afraid the biffy makes the headliner as the part of camping that I hate the most. When one enters the special needs department of bodily output after two kids, endless trips uphill and downhill to the rank Porta Potty hold little appeal. My biggest worry is I am not going to make it in time and disgrace myself. And looking at other people's crap really is something that I don't miss at all once we return home. 

My husband assures me that we were not even really camping. Renting a tent cabin at Two Habors is merely "roughing it". It's the wimpy version of camping. I'd hate to experience the real thing. No toilet thingy at all, no me. That's that.

How did I manage to sum up the inner strength to go on this journey? Okay, that's a little strong. But I did have to suck it up and take one for the team. I was not overly enthralled to face the parts of camping I felt uncomfortable with. I did it for Horse Girl.

Five years ago we crossed the ocean on the Catalina Express to spend a couple days in the sun, surf and nature at the Two Habors camp site. Horse Girl was ten. The Bee was five, still a nursling. It was a magical trip for the girls.

The Entrepeneur loves the outdoors; as an enthusiastic and able camper (former Boy Scout) he is in his element. If the girls had been camping with another me, they would have been miserable (I'm a wimpy scaredy cat and can hardly light the propane stove). Their dad brings adventure into their lives and, thank the stars above, Horse Girl and the Bee don't take after me in the hiking and outdoor adventure department. They are more like their dad -- sure-footed goats on the trail, confident mermaids in the water.

Horse Girl requested to go to Catalina this summer. The Entrepeneur and I had originally thought to take the girls to the Grand Canyon. But Horse Girl rarely requests anything -- she is not generally a demanding kid. This gentle request was something that needed to be listened to. 

It had been a really rough year: adjusting to high school (although despite everything I do get motherly bragging rights that she did do pretty darn great academically, especially considering all her personal struggles that were along for the ride in addition to all the school crap), facing the internal challenges Horse Girl has been dealing with, dealing with therapists and trying to figure out how to best navigate this journey of adolescence. 

I really didn't fully understand Horse Girl's Catalina request until we got there. And in my worst moments, when I wanted to bitch and complain about camping, I had to hold my tongue because I knew this trip was not about me. It was about her. 

When I hiked into the campsite on that first day, I thought about the first time we had made the trip. Horse Girl was ten. Very close to the Bee's age, actually about 6 months younger. Ten. It's such a lovely age. A girl is still full of her own power and strength. She has not gone through all the changes of puberty yet and with it all the baggage that comes with adolescence.  

And that's when I understood. I understood that she was trying to get that back. That feeling of personal strength and power. Her belief in herself and that she could do anything. The feeling of safety in the circle of her family. This realization nearly brought me to my knees with heartache. 

And then, to further mark the symbolism of this trip, Horse Girl got her period. She had been really upset (basically flipping out) before the trip about the possibility of this happening, but then forgot about it in her excitement (maybe it was really just denial). At first, I felt bad about the timing, but I think in the end it was a good thing. She was open with the family about the situation (she had always been extremely private about her cycles even with me) and handled it with grace. It was, as they say, a learning opportunity. 

There were no electronic/internet devices allowed (our own family policy for the trip) and physical activity filled most every moment: walks up and down the hill to the beach, swimming in ocean, snorkeling, kayaking, walks into town and back, walks to the biffy,  and hikes to interesting destinations like the USC Marine Lab. 

Just so you don't get the wrong impression and think I was doing all of that, mostly the Entrepeneur and the the girls were doing the swimming, kayaking and snorkeling. It was really windy (and therefore a cold,  brrrrr) and even though I had managed to get into the water the first time we visited Catalina (it's very gentle water due to the habor so it's perfect for the non-adventureous like me) I didn't even swim until the third day when the Entrepeneur found a private cove that had no wind.

The first day we got the kayak, the Entrepeneur put the girls in and made them figure out how to row it back to the campsite beach themselves.  I was freaking out, but they did it. They were stuck by a boat in the harbor for a bit, but Horse Girl took the reins and played the teacher to her sister while the Entrepeneur and I made the hike back from town to the campsite beach. Fathers help girls to feel capable. Thank you, Entrepeneur!

By the glow of the campfire, we enjoyed the stars while stuffing ourselves with the sticky contents of S'Mores. Horse Girl pointed out the North Star. We wondered how sailors navigated by the North Star. There are people who know how to do that -- find their way by knowing where the North Star is.

The next day the Entrepeneur took us on an adventure to the private cove that I talked about. It's near the USC Marine Lab which is a protected area where an amazing array of fish, leopard sharks, manta rays and other sea life live. The Bee and I walked the two miles to the site; Horse Girl and the Entrepeneur took the kayak. I wasn't sure what the hell I was going to do while everyone was snorkeling, but necessity called for a pack mule to bring the food and supplies and walk one child to the  destination since the kayak only holds two people -- I was the pack mule. Since I didn't know what the area looked like, I was just hoping for a dry, non-scary spot to read my book while everyone had fun.

I was beginning to feel a little grumpy about the whole camping experience. Mainly because I really wanted to be a good sport and swim and stuff, but it was really hard for me. I wanted to be good example of what women can do, but I really wasn't. I was just me with my own hang-ups and fears.

So when the Entrepeneur came back after dropping the Bee off at the secret place after picking her up on the rocky beach at the Marine Lab where we stood and then expected me to get in the kayak with the huge backpack of supplies to bring me to the secret spot, I felt a little alarmed -- I sure as heck didn't want to scramble up wet, slippery rocks somewhere. I was expecting to sit on my ass waiting patiently, not being part of the adventure.

I am not sure what made me get into that kayak. I think the large group of kids and adults that had just arrived at the beach in their dinghies and donning wetsuits right where we were made getting into an emotional scene with the Entrepeneur less appealing. And the backpack had all the supplies, including mine, so I couldn't just let it go without me. I didn't even have a life vest on and was holding my breath the whole way while the Entrepeneur shouted at me to look at the fish below. Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee...

Then the secret place revealed itself. A little rocky beach at low tide, surrounded by great cliffs and rocks. Enclosed, private and beautiful. Magical. Okay, suck it up, lady. The Entrepeneur was right. And we made it without tipping over. I was alive. And dry.

While the Bee and the Entrepeneur took their turn snorkeling (Horse Girl went out first before we got to the secret spot -- two mile hike, remember?) Horse Girl got me into the water (finally) and we had a good time swimming. Actually, I loved it -- there was no wind, it was a totally protected spot. The water was smooth and beautiful.

The Cave
She showed me how to use the snorkel mask (not my idea, hers) -- which really freaked me out since you can't breath in through your nose -- and I got to see the kelp, seaweed and some water creatures. Not the good ones, though. I wasn't brave enough yet to go into the bay to see the fish and the sharks, yet. Not because of the creatures, but because I was having a hard time adjusting to mouth breathing without panicking.

The girls and the Entrepeneur spent hours swimming with the sea creatures. Exploring the wonders of the ocean and exploring a cave before the tide started coming in. I felt so happy that he could bring this magic into their lives. That he could help them explore and seize the day. To own their place in the world. To marvel at the beauty of nature. To believe in themselves.

I felt extreme gratitude.

On the way back, Horse Girl and I took the two mile hike on dirt road back to camp.  She spoke of the importance of being physical in her life (which was interesting in that she had been a complete couch potato since school ended). Being away from Facebook, instant messaging, texting on her phone, and watching TV, she felt much freer. Days spent swimming, walking and exploring agreed with her.

I told her this was a North Star point for her -- physical activity. Your North Star consists of  the internal compass points you use to keep your life on track; when you get off track you need to remember your North Star so that you keep yourself on the right path and don't go adrift. More than one thing can be your North Star and you are discovering those things. She made a discovery.

Her internal compass which guided her to camping in Catalina was spot on. I am glad she listened to her inner voice. I am glad we listened to her.

As the boat back to San Pedro left the dock to bring us back to our everyday lives, I felt a strong tightness take hold in my chest. I did not expect to feel sadness and longing leaving the dirt and the biffies, but I felt acutely that this trip was a sacred moment in time. A unique chapter in our history of our family. If we came back five years from now, when Horse Girl would be twenty and the Bee fifteen, everything would be different. A whole new dynamic.

I stared at the island for a long time.

I felt grateful for the magic that we encountered during our trip. Grateful for the experience of being together as a family knowing that the next years hold many changes. Grateful for the strength and competence Horse Girl found within herself.

I hope that she can hold on to those feeling and experiences -- make them a part of her internal compass to guide her when she is feeling lost and unsure on her path to becoming a woman. May her North Star shine bright within her -- and always be there to guide her.

P.S. My personal discovery was that I actually loved kayaking! the Entrepeneur and I took an early morning jaunt on our last day there (at my request), so hopefully I am somewhat redeemed in the adventure department in my girls' eyes.


Thursday, February 28, 2013

The Mother-Daughter Group: A Survival Strategy

It all went dark. The curtain came down and the trap door opened dropping us into a veritable abyss of absolute craziness. The first semester of high school. After homeschooling for six years.

My very last post here reveled in the bliss of being child-free for the day and the milestone of having a freshman in high school. Having a high schooler is momentous in and of itself because it's hard for me to believe that I am old enough to have a kid in high school. Brings new meaning to the old adage, "The days are long, but the years fly by".

Those memories of myself in high school feel like almost yesterday. Vivid. Real. Touchable. Yet, they are in essence so very far away. My husband and I always freak at the thought that our daughter is closer to the age that we were when we met each other in college than we are to that very same age. It's a little weird.

I really felt like crying those first two weeks of adjusting to Horsegirl being in high school. It wasn't because she was away. Although, that was rather strange. The Bee and I did feel a little sad and adrift at the change. Mainly, it was that I felt overwhelmed with the paperwork of signing forms acknowledging that I had received and read each teacher's syllabus. And figuring out the teacher websites. The running back and forth to Staples for the very specific items each teacher wanted Horsegirl to have for that class.

Figuring out the homework assignments and adjusting to a grueling schedule was a little overwhelming for Horsegirl. And for me. And for the Entrepeneur. Really, for the whole household. Everything turned upside down. Frantic seems to be a good word to sum it up.

And that's just summing up the actual schoolwork adjustment. Another level of angst was added by the sheer level of human suffering occurring within some of the student body at the school. Second week in began with a suicide of a girl at another school who was close friends with the crowd Horsegirl was hanging out with. Then weeks later another school friend was committed to the UCLA psychiatric unit for suicidal feelings. In general, there seemed to be a lot of medicated kids. And kids with struggles.

I kind of felt like we had been living in an alternative universe for years and we were suddenly dropped in the midst of a place I didn't really understand. I went to a Catholic high school where if you put one toe out of line you were picking up trash in the quad. A private school has the power to kick a student out if they misbehave. So hearing stories about how a girl in class wastes class time arguing with the science teacher about not turning in her cell phone after inappropriate use, making a big scene and finally getting sent to the deans office or about another offender who calls the teacher a "bitch" to her face stuns me into silence. I simply cannot comprehend.

Since we are not in the financial realm to send Horsegirl to a private school here in Los Angeles, we console ourselves with the idea that as a loving and strong family, our daughter is protected from many of these negative factors. We pat ourselves on the back for our wonderful parenting. One really should never do that too soon.

Because then we discover that Horsegirl herself was struggling with adolescent issues which brought with it a new wave of frenetic coping to the family. I hope at one time to be able to write about these when they resolve (now is not the appropriate time), but in the meantime just open to the first chapter in Reviving Ophelia: Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls and you'll get an idea of what life is like in my world.

You know, I read that book when my girls were really little. Took me while to get to it to -- not a real heart warmer, you know? I think I believed I could avoid the painful part of this phase by doing "everything right" earlier on. But, adolescence snuck up on me.

I don't really feel prepared for this phase: the high school, the life stage of my daughter, her challenges, my challenges, looming independence, dealing with the cold, cruel world -- one's confidence starts to plummet. I am much better at mothering babies, toddlers and younger kids -- I did feel confident. Now I sometimes feel like I am walking through a land with grenades hiding all through it. Small chance of getting through unscathed as an explosion of some sort is more than likely to be set off any point; I'm just trying keep damage to a minimum. As we move through this minefield of adolescence, the mission is keeping whole selves as intact as possible.

A life-saving device? The Mother-Daughter Group. Horsegirl and I belong to a Mother-Daughter Group based on the book The Mother-Daughter Project. The subtitle continues as, "How Mothers and Daughters Can Band Together, Beat the Odds and Thrive Through Adolescence". We began this group shortly before our daughters were ten and have been meeting for a little over five years now. Which, honestly, is an amazing commitment here in Los Angeles, the land of flakes.

Our group was starting to fall apart a little bit due to scheduling conflicts and the distance we live from each other -- the challenge of trying to bypass L.A. traffic and of finding a convergent time with all the scheduled activities was sometimes like trying to solve an intricate math problem. My concern about Horsegirl galvanized me to seek support from the other mothers of this group (okay, I basically begged that we continue for my own sanity and Horsegirl's sake) and we renewed a focused commitment to our group this year.

We began our year with a mother/mother meeting. Talking together we realized that our girls were challenged by similar feelings all expressed in different ways. Being in the supportive presence of these other women really bolstered me (although the menopause discussion left me a little concerned for my future). Seeking support is a definite weakness for me. I will suffer silently -- not always a great strength.

We decided that we had certain topics that we wanted to cover, but also felt that one thing our girls really needed during this anxious time was some extra TLC at home. Our other plan of action this year is to do fun activities together as a group which means a little more effort on our part (we're tired, you know?). But we felt that we need to set an example of positive and healthy good times. So far, so good.

Our Mother-Daughter Group gives us the chance to talk with our daughters about subjects that might not come up otherwise. As a group, we mothers we can broach issues that might feel embarrassing or taboo in a one-on-one setting. There is definitely strength in numbers. And our daughters have the opportunity to openly discuss issues on their minds. And hear responses in a supportive environment. As the girls have matured, we have had many in-depth discussions that I really don't think would have happened without this group.

I remember a mother who dropped out of the group stating that discussions were happening organically with her nine-year-old and that she didn't need a group. I can honestly say now that once your kid is a teenager, there aren't too many "organic" discussions of this nature. Teenagers are often secretive and developing their independence -- having a a formal group to discuss certain issues and topics is enormously helpful.

I am now on my second Mother-Daughter Group with the Bee (so I have two ongoing, different groups -- yes, my schedule is quite, uh, full. Thankfully I only have two kids). The difference between the two groups is readily apparent. The new group is a full of fresh, enthusiastic moms with their first group and they have lots of energy and project ideas (and then there is me -- believe me, I need their freshness!). My first group was the same way in the beginning. Now we are a little more tired. Life happens.

But, I am committed to both groups with whatever energy I can spare. A Mother-Daughter Group has so many benefits, some you may not even see until the time is right. If you have a daughter, I encourage you to read the book The Mother-Daughter Project and create a group in your own community. It's never too late to start a group, but it's easier when your daughter is in the open and enthusiastic ages between 7 and 10 years old. Creating a supportive community is beneficial to mom and beneficial to daughter.

Driving with Horsegirl to our monthly Mother-Daughter meetings, I will, of course, sometimes hear her teenage grumbling and complaining. Heck, I think it's a teenage developmental requirement. But in the end, my adolescent daughter knows we are committed to this group. Through my commitment to our M/D group, my commitment to her during this strange and trying journey of growing up becomes loud and clear. She is worth it.