Our Orchid

Sweet Aunt Marielle put together a little birthday party for the Little Man at a bowling alley in Kansas. P was pumped, pie was purchased, it was an all around good time.

But a stark comparison was made by a very astute three year old that day. One that usually flies under my radar these days, comparisons having flown by the wayside a few years back. The Little Man is, well, a little different.

In a good way, of course :) But he isn't your average newly minted five year old that bounces into a bowling alley and bounds over to the balls with big strides. He doesn't wave to his extended family and laugh at their introductory jokes. When presented with an adorable 3 year old companion, he doesn't say hey and run to play. Nope. Not a lot of giggling and bounding around here :)

But he isn't shy. Not that I even know what the hell shy really is. But I don't think that's P at all. In fact, thinking about it reminds me of Cousin Travis' wedding. P was a wee babe just starting to walk, maybe 8 or 9 months? When family poured out of the ceremony and came to cuddle P, he shrieked. He hid, he dropped to his knees and fled.

So, when, a few years later, his sweet new friend (pictured above) repeatedly asked "Why isn't Phoenix talking?" at his birthday party, well, all I could think of was, "It's P!" "He's settling in" is what I told the cute questioner, but I don't know if this answer was actually satisfactory or not :)

I've mentioned his slow to transition ways. Hell, just the transition between sleep and life is still a tiny struggle for him on some days. The transition into a loud, bright space with lots of people speaking to him is enough to have his turtle head shell shocked into hiding. Its one of those traits I so wish I would have received an owner's manual for. His sudden and dire need to be carried into a store (after having happily walked for blocks) confounded me for years. And when he does use his own momentum, his motor stall in the middle of almost every new doorway has created more traffic jams than I care to count.

Looking back, these are obvious "transition" issues. But I'm a slow learner :) So slow, in fact, that I only just realized how alike P and I are. Upon arriving at a party, I will immediately begin, in a most busy fashion, some sort of business. Arranging, delivering, de-coating. Whatever is available. I see no faces, I barely toss hello's. I know this smacks of rudeness, but I just can't bring myself to assimilate into social gatherings quickly. Seriously, I get so overwhelmed I feel dizzy. Which seems just ridiculous to me :)

This busy bee beginning is my turtle shell. P's is perhaps less smooth (though I'm guessing mine seems strange too:), he remains quiet and watchful, typically behind my leg :) When we arrived for our Tday Schultz Extravaganza, the house was teeming with loving relatives. I bee lined (;) it to the kitchen, deliveries to be made and all. The child slinked into the empty basement. Not yet having my aha moment, a brief second of social angst hit me and I started to coax him upstairs in reply to relative's requests. Then it hit me. We had told him we'd head to the basement with him if he needed a break to wrestle or gather himself. He had, apparently, listened, and innately knew he needed this safe space for his transitional period. And as I sat in the dark with him, I breathed a huge sigh of relief too, only to suddenly understand our similarities. Duh! Well, I said I'm slow ;)

Eventually, our social juices get flowing and we are both annoyingly present at parties :) But the painstakingly slow speed at which we arrive at "normal" is obvious in P (and perhaps me, though I'll never know because all of my friends are too nice to tell me!) So slowly obvious in the Little Man, in fact, that a three year old noticed it, both on the Bday and on Tday.

Ahh, well, Mr. Slow To Warm eventually locked himself up with his sweet gal pal, giggling (her) and grinning (him). They held hands and ran around, both seeming "normal" before the party ended...

Anyway, the whole point of this post was to link this article. It is unbelievably fascinating. The title paragraph reads:

"Most of us have genes that make us as hardy as dandelions: able to take root and survive almost anywhere. A few of us, however, are more like the orchid: fragile and fickle, but capable of blooming spectacularly if given greenhouse care. So holds a provocative new theory of genetics, which asserts that the very genes that give us the most trouble as a species, causing behaviors that are self-destructive and antisocial, also underlie humankind’s phenomenal adaptability and evolutionary success. With a bad environment and poor parenting, orchid children can end up depressed, drug-addicted, or in jail—but with the right environment and good parenting, they can grow up to be society’s most creative, successful, and happy people."

It goes into much, much more than just this theory and is more than worth the read. Pondering P's similarities to his sensitive parents had me wondering. Where is it mentoring. When is it genes? When is it personality? When is it.... my fault? Hehee. So, of course, this line jumped right out at me:

"What happens at the dyadic level, between mother and infant, ultimately affects the very nature and survival of the larger social group.”

No pressure, really. No pressure at all in this parenting schtick...