I know that a majority of my readers are mothers. “Mother” is the most important, purposeful, meaningful title I have held in my life. Being a mother, brings out everything that a woman holds inside of herself, out into the open, to the highest degrees. A lot of this that flows out of us mothers, is beautiful and warm and loving and protective and strong. And a lot of this that flows out of a mother, is vulnerable, and sometimes it is fearful and bewildered, and sometimes even angry and scared. When you are given the most important job, a job this is mostly aligned with the purpose of making a better future for the world, and you are given this job mostly just because of your own biological, anatomical birthright, without any real rules or a solid playbook, it can be overwhelming. It can be formidable. It can be staggering, even in the quietest moments of rocking our babes. But we mothers were made for this. It is natural design. Maren Morris sings, “Thehousedon’t fall, when the bones are good . . . ” Most of us mothers have good bones. Really good bones. And because of us, no matter how dire and shaky things can seem to be, out in the world, the house don’t fall.
I am lucky. I get to spend Mother’s Day with all of my four children this year. We are celebrating our middle son’s graduation from medical school this weekend. I feel blessed beyond measure, sharing my greatest love with our precious sons and our precious daughter. I hope that you readers feel this same serene way which I am feeling right now, because you deserve to feel good. You mothers are the good bones of our world. You give structure when everything else seems to be falling to the ground. You hold everything up. You hold everything together. You are strong even when you are brittle. You are strong, even when you are cracked. You are even strong when you are broken. And so this big beautiful world of ours (our shared house), it may seem to crumble, but because of all of the mothers in this world, our house doesn’t fall. Because the truth of it is, “the house” is the ultimate mother.
Happy Mother’s Day, dear readers. I love and I appreciate you all.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Last night I slept better than I have slept in a long time. I have often said that I sleep my absolute best when all four of our babies are under one roof with me, but that is a rare occasion these days. The “babies” span the ages of 21-29. They are all adults with busy, adventurous lives of their own. One of our babies was under our roof last night, though. Our youngest, and our only daughter, finished up her junior year of college and was home with us last night.
Now, of course, as these things go, our daughter was first out with her boyfriend, celebrating their anniversary, and so I didn’t get to sleep quite as early as I usually do. And then, our furry alarm system, a.k.a, our dogs, made it perfectly clear that she gotten home long after we had gone to bed. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be woken up at all different times of the night, as the four kids made their ways back to our nest from their outings, and dates, and late evening work schedules. Still, knowing that our daughter was safely home with us, I easily fell back into a deep slumber, and I woke up this morning, knowing that I had really SLEPT. I had that rare, well-rested feeling that only the best of night’s sleep can give to us.
We mothers have internal clocks that are so connected to our children’s patterns, it’s sometimes uncanny. We wake to their cries when they are babes, almost instantaneously. I remember that my mother would say, long after my sister and I were married and out of the house, that she would feel instantly hungry right around 3 pm – the time that we would get home from school and share an afternoon snack with her. It’s like the ticking of our internal clocks are in sync with the heartbeats of our children, no matter where our children may be.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
As a mother of three sons, early on, I started considering how I would be a good, kind, interesting mother-in-law so that my adult kids would still want to come around. Our youngest child is our daughter and of course, I want to be a good mother-in-law to her spouse, too, but for many reasons, the stereotype of bad mother-in-laws always seems to be related to mother-in-laws and daughter-in-laws.
I read an article that the above Tik Tok went viral recently. And honestly, I believe that the Tik Toker’s advice is good to heed, in order to have excellent relationships with anybody, not just in-laws. “Fill your own damn cup.” If you rely on other people, your relationships, your roles and your “image” for your own happiness, you will be chasing your tail forever, never achieving it. It is our job as humans to fill our own damn cups. And when we fill our own damn cups, we feel happy, and satisfied, and engaged with life. And thus, we are pleasures to be around. We are not eeking dissatisfaction, anger, neediness and resentment that leads to controlling, and guilt-tripping and utilizing aggressive and passive aggressive behavior.
In other words, it is our job in life to be joyful. And joyfulness comes from within. No one else can give us joy, and we should not allow others to steal our joy. We should share our joy, which if we are doing life right, our joy should be bubbling over our filled cups. When we do this, we become delightful, interesting, engaging friends, spouses, parents, in-laws, neighbors, cousins, children, people. Here are some quotes that have struck me in their wisdom for decades and I have shared them on the blog before but they bear repeating:
“No. The most important relationship in life is the one you have with yourself. Once you have that, any other relationship becomes a plus and not a must — and, therefore it becomes luxury, and that is important. The relationship should be a plus, not a must.” – Diane Von Furstenberg
“I don’t think the parent and child should be so intimate that it becomes a jail for the child. I’ve tried to help my children to become themselves.” – Paloma Picasso
“Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.” – Kahlil Gibran
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Happy Mother’s Day! I know a lot of my readers are mothers, and truly wonderful mothers. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And to my own beautiful four children, you make me so proud. I love you with all of my heart. It is my greatest joy and privilege to be your mother. Last night, my husband and I attended a wedding and as I looked around at everyone and mingled with people I’ve known for several years, it occurred to me that every stage of mother was in that room. There were pregnant women, women with their first babies, and a young woman talking about being at her child’s little league game, late into the night, on her own birthday (and every one of us mothers, whom she was telling the story to, were nodding in knowing recognition and understanding). There were the proud, excited middle-aged mothers of the bride and the groom, and there was a table of older women, presumably grandmothers and maybe even great-grandmothers. Maybe the reason why weddings have such beautiful energy and an aura of hopefulness like no other event, is because they are filled with strong women who deeply understand what it is like to be a willing, unending, unbreakable channel of the Universe’s greatest Love.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
Yesterday, my husband read my blog (as he faithfully does every day – thank you, love) and he texted that he saw the idea of both me and my daughter’s friend’s mom, giving our daughters our own black leather jackets for their study abroad experience this summer, in this way: “I can see the two of them wearing those jackets with pride and like a coat of armor in the big city this summer. Getting strength and comfort from their moms even though they are far away.” I love this idea. Maybe giving our daughters our own coats, is like giving them symbolic “cloaks of protection.” We mothers probably do subliminal things like this all of the time, without really even thinking about it, or realizing what we are doing. These actions just come with the instincts of being a mom.
Recently two college friends’ young twenty-something sons have relocated far away from their homes of origin, to our city, within days of each other. Both of their mothers texted both me and another college friend who lives in our city, that their sons have moved into our town. We in-town moms, of course, offered our excitement and the reassurance that we were available to them, should any needs arise. My guess is though, these young men will do just fine on their own. (in fact, interference may be perceived as annoying and infantilizing by these proud young bucks) These young men have strong mothers who have raised good, independent, able men, but still, their mothers extended their “cloaks of protection” over their sons, by reaching out to us, their trusted “sisters.”
The tools in our mother box come in many forms. Even the “cloaks of protection” can be invisible, such as daily prayers, or physical, in the form of black leather jackets or “surrogate” moms. There is nothing stronger than the cloak of a mother’s love, except perhaps, the love of the Divine. A mixture of both loves is an armor stronger than steel. And this is why we mothers, who ever since the days that we have released our babies out of our safe wombs in order for them to go on to live their own individual lives, can sleep soundly at night. We mothers profoundly know, from our own deepest depths, that there is an ever-loving cloak of protection, enveloping all of us, in the form of an enormous, interconnected, blanketed web of Love.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
Good morning. I’ve had the most restful, restorative, balancing weekend. My husband has off of work today, so we both slept in. When we finally woke up, after experiencing a weekend full of rain showers, we looked out of our windows to witness a marvelous, sunny day. The picture above is the top of our screened in porch. The rain drops are sitting on top and they are being kissed by the sunlight and so they are creating the most beautiful, rainbow-y, glittery cover you’d ever want to see. Nature never ceases to amaze me.
Yesterday, I read an interesting article. Sarah Sloat wrote an article for The Atlantic about “eldest-daughter syndrome”. Here are some quotes from the article:
“Women are expected to be nurturers. Firstborns are expected to be exemplars. Trying to be everything for everyone is likely to lead to guilt when some obligations are inevitably unfulfilled.”
“Being an eldest daughter means frequently feeling like you’re not doing enough, like you’re struggling to maintain a veneer of control, like the entire household relies on your diligence.”
“At least, that’s what a contingent of oldest sisters has been saying online. Across social-media platforms, they’ve described the stress of feeling accountable for their family’s happiness, the pressure to succeed, and the impression that they aren’t being cared for in the way they care for others. Some are still teens; others have grown up and left home but still feel over-involved and overextended. As one viral tweet put it, “are u happy or are u the oldest sibling and also a girl”? People have even coined a term for this: “eldest-daughter syndrome.”
I’m the eldest daughter and I found the article to be relatable, but I’m not convinced that it is just an “eldest daughter” thing. I think that it is a daughter thing. I think that it is a woman thing. I’ve known many eldest daughters who didn’t fit the definition of “people pleasing kin-keeper.” They set out on their own, striving for adventure and independence much like their brothers. However, unlike their brothers, they were often shamed for their actions, or made to feel selfish or unnatural.
Last month, my daughter brought home some college friends to attend a local festival in our area that is somewhat akin to our city’s own Mardi Gras. She also included some dear high school friends who attend different universities. Her boyfriend, who is also a student at a different university than our daughter, was also in town to celebrate with his friends. And our youngest son lives downtown near to where the festivities would be, and so our daughter wanted to be sure to see him and celebrate with him as well. At the end of the night, when our daughter and her friends, who were staying with us, came home, they all looked exhausted but happily satiated . . . . except our daughter. She looked mostly exhausted. She had been so busy trying to coordinate everyone else’s great times that she felt depleted, frustrated and slightful resentful that no one seemed to notice the efforts that she had gone to for this event. I hugged her hard and I snidely said, “Welcome to womanhood.”
What woman has not felt any of the emotions above? What woman has not felt any guilt for not fulfilling traditional society’s definitions of nurturer, daughter, sister, mother, etc.? What woman has not felt some secret resentment that the men in her life are not subject to these same standards and expectations? What woman has never asked herself, “I’m happy that everyone is having a wonderful time, but who in the hell is taking care of me? Who really cares if I am doing alright?”
When we “give to get” that’s called codependence. When we get all of our self-worth from what we do for others, without keeping what we are doing for ourselves, as an equal part in that equation, that’s called martyrdom, and martyrdom has a way of going down a dark road to a desperate loss of our own individual identities. When we define ourselves only as somebody’s wife/daughter/mother/sister, etc. we find ourselves empty when we ask ourselves, “Yes, but who are you?”
How to heal this? It’s the same as being able to heal anything. It starts with self-awareness. It starts with asking hard questions and being able to feel the uncomfortable feelings that often come with the true answers. It’s being able to define for yourself what your roles mean in your life, and what you are willing to do in these roles, even if others don’t agree with your choices. It’s creating boundaries. It’s defining “self-care”, and what that means for you. It’s developing self-worth that isn’t reliant on other people’s judgments and values, but those of your own. It isn’t easy. Healing is never an easy process, but to live the fullness of life and our own individual purpose, healing is crucial.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
1446. What have you done that is out of character for you?
Good morning. I read an article yesterday about the actress Sally Field. One time, one of her sons was going through a bout of anxiety, when he was constantly worried that she wouldn’t be there to pick him up from school, or she wouldn’t be there at night when he was falling asleep. Sally Field reassured him, “Sammy, I will always be there to pick you up, even when I’m not there.”
I thought to myself, “Isn’t that the truth? My own four grown children are all over the place, living their adult lives, and even though I am not physically there with any of them, I am there. I am always there. As I often say, my children are pieces of my heart walking around on eight legs.”
I hope that you have a wonderful start of the week. My husband is off for the holiday. I have to say that this late, leisurely start is the right way to do a Monday.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
My husband was giddy yesterday, talking about the football games that had happened over the weekend with his officemates. Mondays at the office can be rough, yet my husband seemed to be in a particularly good mood. Football is a unifier. Even if you aren’t a big sports fan, you still usually have “a team” because it is the team of the city where you live, or your city of birth, or the university you attended. You identify with your team and your fellow fans. You feel united with an energy bigger than yourself.
I know that this overwhelming outpouring for the Queen of England, before she is put to rest with Prince Philip, is hard for some people to understand. There is a reason why western civilization has evolved away from monarchies and aristocracies. The Queen herself was essentially a figurehead, yielding not much more than what they call “soft power”, which is more of an influence, than any right to demand. And there are a lot of questions as to whether the monarchy is even necessary, or should be supported, considering its sometimes sordid past.
I believe that the grief which is being shown over the death of Queen Elizabeth, the world over, is an outpouring of the loss of a long-standing, consistent, unflappable, dedicated being whom anyone could claim as their own favorite, if they so chose. In a world so full of change that seems to be happening at the speed of light, a world so full of stark polar opposition in our politics, a world that seems to be questioning and rewriting so many of our long standing traditions, laws, and rituals, we cling to the things that are steadfast. We cling to the people and the things that will be there for us, in some form or other, no matter what else is happening. We cling to football, and “the holidays”, and pizza, and classic movies and ageless songs, and the moon and the stars, and all of the things that have stood the test of time, because these are the things that unite us, and the things that we can mostly agree on (even with playful rivalries). In a world of heightened disagreement and divisiveness, we cling to the things that we can all dedicate ourselves to – we cling to the things that are available to all of us, to claim as our own. We cling to anything that reminds us that despite all of our differences, we all make up one humanity. We cling to the people and the institutions which allow us the shared security and enthusiasm to unite with each other, and to band together over shared loves and losses.
The whole world seems to have lost a symbolic, steadfast grandmother when Queen Elizabeth died. Just like our own grandmothers, she wasn’t perfect. She made mistakes. But she was utterly dedicated and dutiful to her family, to her responsibilities, and to what was required of her. There was no question that the Queen was on the watch, and she wasn’t going to stop, until it was time for her to pass on. I think that so many of us can relate. So many of us have been supported by strong, determined women, who see “their duties” out to the very end, with a steely dedication to do right, by what life has required of them. I mean no disrespect to my male readers here, but in my experience, it comes more naturally for women to fully dedicate themselves to something more than just themselves. Look at nature. No one wants to run into a mother bear. We have lost a universal mother bear. This hollow sadness and almost disbelief which so many of us are feeling about this loss of the longstanding queen – this sadness is something that actually unites us. And that is why we are carrying on our grief, as long as we can. Feeling united feels good, even in times of pain.
It is estimated that there are between 143 million and 210 million orphans worldwide
Everyday an estimated 5,760 more children become orphans worldwide
Approximately 250,000 children are adopted annually
Each day an estimated 38,493 orphans “age out” of the orphanage system and are put on the streets with no family and no home
10% to 15% of these children commit suicide before they reach 18 years old
All face highly challenging and uncertain futures without the support of a family
Credit: Project 143
If you do the math, 2,050,560 children become orphans every single year. And approximately 250,000 of children are adopted annually. Hmmmm. I’ve never been great at math, but it appears to me that there are plenty of children already in the world who would greatly benefit from being adopted. And sadly, we in America, all know the face of another precious orphan whose parents were gunned down at a Fourth of July parade, by a 21-year old man (with prior issues of violence), who legally bought high powered rifles in his own state.
I’m not trying to be political here. I am grateful for the new law that our Republican governor in Florida put into place recently, that would never restrict loved ones from being able to visit their loved ones in a hospital. No one should EVER have to die alone. Last fall, there was more than one time, when our son’s epileptic seizures were out of control, that we were denied access to visit him in his hospital room, and this was in Florida which was generally much less restricted than the rest of the country during the earliest times of the pandemic. I remember sobbing at the front of a hospital entrance in my husband’s arms, with the power to do nothing but to hope and to pray.
Can we stop with the party lines??? Can we start to come together with realism, common sense, and an agreement to compromise, for the good of our country and for the good of our country’s precious citizens??? These hard core, black/white, all or nothing, stubborn, defiant, righteous, hateful lines that both of our major parties are walking, are not doing us any good. We are not walking a straight path. We are walking in circles. And we are quickly circling down the drain, to the despair of the majority of us, who adore our country.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
There is nothing stronger in this world, yet paradoxically more vulnerable than a mother’s heart. A mother’s heart holds so much. It holds so much love and pride and vision and fear and worry and resilience and a load full of understanding and empathy for all of the other mothers’ hearts. A mother’s heart rarely breaks, because it can’t. Mothers’ hearts are the webbing of humanity’s entire existence and this webbing cannot afford too many bottomless holes of despair. My prayer is for all of the hearts, of all of the mothers. May those of us who are stronger and safer right now, keep the beat for the other mothers’ hearts who are bleeding down to a faintly beat.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
