Week of August 7, 2002


We had a small trauma at the end of last week. Owen's been zooming up the steps as often as possible, needing help to get back down. He can go down once he's started, but he has trouble getting into position and navigating that first step. Scott was at the top landing and Owen was trying to shimmy into his backwards position. He started to roll and only Scott's grabbing his shirtsleeve kept him from tumbling down. It was several hours before Scott recovered from the near-miss, and we got the gate up the next day. He jokes that when Owen asks about his grey hair, he can point to August 2 as the date it appeared.

I started to think how hard it will be to protect Owen without holding him back. How do we encourage his exploration, while keeping him safe all the time? How do I let go of my fears and let him do that exploring? Reading obsessively about shark attacks, I've developed a fear of salt water that I never had when I was in the ocean all the time. You can be attacked in 3 feet of water? Near a sandbar? How can I let Owen even dip his toe into such a dangerous environment? Yet that's psycho thinking, the ocean is relatively safe if you use your head, even in warmer water. Nothing is completely safe, but the ocean is a joy to be experienced as much as possible. He's got to experience it, my fears are irrational. Sharks? He's in more danger from drowning (God forbid).

My job is to do the best I can to protect Owen from the worst dangers out there: poison, traffic, abusing adults, household dangers, accidents, etc. I will try to give him good common sense -- make sure he knows how to look both ways when he crosses the street, he knows not to stick a fork in the toaster, and he knows how to swim. I hope he will know enough not to let a drunk friend drive him around, and that he will be able to size up people enough to get out of situations that are uncomfortable or unsafe. But there are limits on my ability to protect him, especially as he goes out among the world. He would be unhappy, living in a bubble, and he deserves a life where he can explore and have adventures. How can I interfere with that?

Does this mean I will live my life with my heart always partly in my throat? This must be the motivation that caused my father to always wait up for me when I was out. You want to be reassured, so you can sleep more easily, but I'm worried that isn't possible with children. If Owen is to have an interesting life, he's going to have to have adventures. He'll have to go to new places and meet new people, and try new things -- and I want him to embrace life and take risks. I'll just have to hope those new things don't include sky diving, mountain climbing, or extreme sports. Or swimming with sharks.

Things that give me pleasure this week:

 

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