Lessons in totally missing the point

Tristan has a fairly obsessive personality.  From photos taken three summers ago, I give you example A:  (Also, I'm pregnant in the last pic just, you know, in case you can't tell...)

Tendency towards obsession + Wii for Chrismtas = kid who eats, sleeps and breathes all things Wii, especially Mario.  When we first got the Wii and all the cousins were here over Christmas everyone just kind of went to town.  Now that real life has resumed limits for gaming are back in place.  I have watched Tristan's obsession progress with some concern.  Every conversation I have had with him over the past two weeks has been about Mario - the worlds, the powers, yoshi, how much he loves playing, how he beat this level or that level, yoshi, the worlds, yoshi, the levels, the powers, yoshi....  It's driving me insane!  I thought if he knew he had 30 minutes every day to play he wouldn't think about it for the other 23 1/2 hours.  Wrong.  On Saturday after his 30 minutes of play he looked through the Mario instruction book.  For two hours.  TWO HOURS spent looking at the same four pages in English, French, Spanish and Chinese.  The kid can't read in English nevermind other languages.  What could possibly have been that interesting for that long?  I can appreciate the focus he showed in sitting still for that long but why can't I channel that into looking at non-video game related reading materials or activity books meant to help him with his pencil-holding skills?  I know this is an increasingly digital age but being able to hold a pencil and draw a line without it looking like it was drawn by a 90-year-old grandmother with shaky hands is pretty fundamental.

At dinner the other night we were having general conversation and I was asking the kids a bunch of questions about school and friends.  Tristan had been pretty quiet so I asked him what he was thinking about.  He perked right up and got super animated as he told me how he was going to beat the ghost house in World 5 in Mario.  Which is when I freaked out and told him I was worried he was going to grow up and be 35 and still living in our basement and he'd never get married and he'd never have kids and he'd never have a job and his whole life would be lived online or through a game and do you really want that kind of life, DO YOU?  Apparently he does.  Apparently to a six year old that actually sounds like the best life ever.

I tried again.  I said, I thought his passion was great, his focus was amazing that I loved the perseverance he showed but that I wanted him to have more balance.  I told him no one in a job interview would ever ask him how many levels of Mario he beat and if he saved Princess Peach or not.  He's the kind of kid who wants to quit if he doesn't get it on the first try and I told him I wanted him to put the same kind of focus and determination he puts into the Wii into actual life skills like learning how to tie his shoelaces or sound out words.  His eyes were looking pretty blank by this point so I tried speaking his language.  I said it's kind of like when you were trying to beat the first Bowser castle and you kept dying and dying and dying and dying but you didn't quit, you didn't give up you just kept going and then you finally.... "I beat him!" he interrupted me.  "And I used the fire power and then I lost it but got an ice power and I picked up the guy and threw him.  All you have to do is press 1 and wiggle the remote Mom and you can pick up anything!  I can't even believe I beat the Bowser castle!  I can't wait to play it again.  I'm totally going to beat the next level.  I'm going to win every level because I'm the best at Mario."

Sigh.

And that was right about the time the calm, patient mother exited the building. "AAAAAHHHHH!!!!  STOP TALKING ABOUT MARIO!  ALL YOU TALK ABOUT IS MARIO, MARIO, MARIO!  NO MORE MARIO! IF YOU DON'T STOP TALKING ABOUT MARIO I AM GOING TO LOSE IT!"  And that was the end of dinner.

One thing we're trying to do more of with our kids is have one-on-one time even if it's just taking one kid on an errand while the other kids stay home.  I had a chiro appointment this morning and Hugh had the day off so I asked Tristan if he wanted to come.  After my quick appointment I took him to Starbucks for a little date.  It was so nice to have some time with him that had nothing to do with disciplining him, worrying about him, arguing with him or being exasperated by his contrariness.  He has always been the kid who seems to have the most issues, who requires the most patience and hard work from his parents.

Right from womb-hood when the x-ray tech told me Twin B (which turned out to be Tristan) had a Down's Syndrome marker on his heart he has been the one I've agonized most over.  He is also the most stubborn and likes to learn every lesson the hard way which means we've had some pretty intense battles of the will.  Maybe it was because I never thought I'd have sons, or maybe it was because I had been so worried about him in the womb, but as I held all five perfect pounds and one marvelous ounce of him, he crept into my heart and created his very own room.

Sometimes at night when I look in on him and I see him so peaceful and relaxed in sleep, I smile. Sometimes I see that peace and I pray. For a future bright with possibility, for the bigness of God to be on him, for the strength to endure when trouble comes. And then other times I see that peace and I cry.  Because maybe it's been a hard day and I feel like all the interaction we've had has been discipline-related and the only peace we have together is when he's asleep.  I cry because I wish he wouldn't make everything a battle of the wills and I wish I knew how to channel that stubbornness into a strength he can use for good.  I cry because I don't know if I'm helping him do that, I don't know if I'm failing him, I just know I love him so much it makes my chest ache.  I see his long legs draped over the bed you could barely see him in three years ago and I cry because we don't get to keep our sons in the same way we get to keep our daughters and what if I haven't done enough, given him enough, shown him enough?  What if how much I love him gets lost in our battles over his stubbornness?

I need to clarify here.  I love all my kids. I pray for and smile over and cry over all my kids.  They all have their own special places in my heart, it's just that the sweetness and ease I often get with the other two is more rare with Tristan and therefore all the more precious when it happens. Today on the way home from Starbucks, a time when we got to laugh and be silly together and there was no whining or arguing and all the attention I gave him was entirely positive, I made sure I looked Tristan in the eye and told him I loved him, that he had a very special place in my heart.  He gave me a slow bashful smile that grew to a brilliant grin and he said, "Is there a Wii there?"