Soul Sunday

Welcome to poetry day on the blog. Our two middle sons moved to new apartments recently and so, as we mothers do, I sent them a reminder text to change their mailing addresses on the post office’s website. I wrote, “Hi boys. Please remember to change your addresses on the post office’s website.” Two hours later, I had an aha moment. Our sons are not “boys.” Our sons are fine young men of the ages of 25 and almost 23. I sent a new text to them, correcting my error, and telling them that I should not have called them “boys”. I proudly see what amazing men they are turning out to be. But, fellow parents, let’s be real. If I am honest with myself, our sons will always be my little baby boys (and our daughter will always be my precious little baby girl) and so when I read this poem, shared below, this past week, I thought to myself, “Wow, Robert Hershon nailed it. He just nailed it.” I think that there is nothing more fulfilling in any creator’s heart than when we have written/sang/painted/photographed, etc. something and we get this proud knowing feeling that says, “Damn, I just nailed it.” Try nailing one of your passions today (maybe even nail art?), and give yourself that satisfactory feeling of savoring it.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Confession

A friend recently confessed that lately she feels like she doesn’t want to be a parent anymore. It was over a text, but I imagine if “the confession” had been in person, she would have sat tentatively, her eyes darting around the room to see if we, her friends who are also parents, would be looking down at her with glaring supreme judgment, even worse than what she was doing to herself.

And what she got instead was a lot of support, love, understanding, and relating. Parenting is hard. Caretaking is hard. Life is hard. Making those statements doesn’t mean that you are a terrible parent, an awful caretaker and that you hate life. Parenting is hard and wonderful. Caretaking is hard and rewarding. Life is hard and overwhelmingly beautiful.

Give yourself a break when you feel overwhelmed by your life and your responsibilities in your life. These are the times to lean into self-care and trust the Universe/God/Life with the rest. Give yourself the love and the care and the support and the advice that you would give to your partner, or to your child, or to your best friend. (in other words the person or people whom you love the most, because honestly, you, yourself, should be on that list)

I’ve shared this on the blog, before, but it seems appropriate to bring it back. Before I even became a mother, and I was spending some time in my head thinking about what kind of parent I wanted to be, I came across this wonderful poem by Kahlil Gibran. It has become my parenting mantra/philosophy/reminder throughout my entire twenty-six years of being a mother. It helps me to remember that I am co-parenting with a vast and loving and mysterious force of Life, and that I can lean into that wisdom and comfort whenever I need to just let go. This poem puts me – a fiery, sometimes control freakish mama, into her rightful place. And when I am in that place, I am freer to live in my own faith and to trust that bigger arms are wrapped around us all. I am freer to be loved, and to be Love. Gibran’s poem:

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children.
     And he said:
     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.

     You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
     For they have their own thoughts.
     You may house their bodies but not their souls,
     For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
     You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
     For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
     You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
     The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
     Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
     For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Friday Caan

RIP – James Caan

James Caan is my favorite for today on Favorite Things Friday. Any time I went to a movie, and I found out that James Caan was in it, I’d be glad. I loved his expressions, from the crazy temper of Sonny Corleone in The Godfather, to the smirky-ness of Walter in Elf. I loved his confident, macho, wise-ass demeanor.

The quote above by James Caan, is all that any of us parents are trying to do, right? We don’t get a degree in parenting from esteemed universities. We pretty much get on the job training – sink or swim. We try our best to carry on the traditions that we love from our families of origin, and we try our best to make the changes that would have made our own childhoods better. It’s not easy, but the loving part is in the earnest trying to be better, and to do better, in the hopes that our children will do the same, and improve upon us, so that the generations ahead will move forward towards a goal of loving, parental perfection. This is perhaps an unattainable goal, but at least it’s a point in the horizon worth pointing our ships toward.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

Happy Mother’s Day!!! I know quite a few of my readers out there are mothers like me. There is no experience out there like mothering, is there? Mothering brings out your fiercest side, and yet also your most fearful side, all at the same time. Mothering shows you the depth and the power of your love, and yet also the fragile petals of your own vulnerability. You enter into mothering, willingly and enthusiastically signing on to the dotted line of a lifelong contract, agreeing to something that you really have no idea actually what to expect, and just when you think that you have it all figured out, the seasons change and who you are as a woman and who you are as a mother changes with those seasons, and this metamorphosis happens, again and again, throughout your entire life. It’s daunting and extraordinary. Mothering is the most amazing, overwhelming, vital adventure of my life and I couldn’t be more grateful to the four beautiful souls who call me their mother, for this incredible journey and experience of mothering them. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Much like Shel Silverstein’s book, The Giving Tree is supposed to be an allegory of parenting and unconditional love, I think that this beautiful poem by Rumi is the perfect allegory to the required selflessness that comes from being a mother:

The sun never says by Rumi Poem Canvas Print  Poetry Print image 1

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Adultiest Adults

I love this tweet. Never has this fact been more evident than throughout this damn pandemic. Right??? Here are some of the Comments to go along with this tweet:

“Peak adulthood is realizing that your parents were just winging it, too.” -@mjonesonline

“Oddly comforting, isn’t it?” @allisonching1

“Middle age is looking around for an “adultier adult” and realize everyone else is doing the same but they’re all looking at you. Because you ARE the adultiest adult present.” @getoffmylawn585

I recently did some self-reflection on this annoying thing that I do to my kids lately. It’s not charming, or “loving mommy” of me at all. (but honestly, I don’t see myself quitting it, anytime soon) Whenever my kids (ages 17 and up) have to do something exasperating that I used to do for them, such as calling customer service lines, and then waiting in the queue for 3.8 hours, and then having to speak to someone who doesn’t seem to understand English, and then being afraid to complain about this fact because it might get them “cancelled”, I just say this, with a quirky little smirk on my face:

“Welcome to adulthood!!” (and then I do this irritating laugh)

When my kids have to pay for something ridiculous, like paying an extra fee and some taxes for a permit for something that is required for a class that they’d rather not have to take in the first place, or when they complain about having to pay for things such as “batteries that aren’t included”:

I reliably chirp, “Welcome to adulthood!!”

Talk about being forced into a club that you never really wanted to join in the first place. And then looking around and going, “Wait, these are “the adults”?!? Seriously?!?”

On our walk last night, my husband and I were having a conversation, trying to make sense of the new round of COVID variants/mask rules/vaccine requirements/infection rates/school and work plans, etc., that seem to be all new, just for this week. Detaching and listening to our conversation, I had to giggle. We were repeating “news”, “conspiracy ideas”, things that we had “heard” in grocery store lines, work mandate memo updates, rumors from friends and neighbors, things that we had read on social media, etc. All of what we were saying to each other was completely convoluted. All of it contradicted each other. All of it was overwhelming and scary and frustrating and maddening. And of course, we both said all of it, with an air of solemn, all-knowing authority.

Welcome to adulthood.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Experience Forever

“One of the most bittersweet feelings has to be when you realize how much you’re going to miss a moment, while you’re still living it.” -u.fo Twitter

This one hit me in the gut this morning. There are a lot of moments in life when you just wish time would fly, when the clouds will pass and quickly. (waiting for a job offer or medical results or for your teenage kids to get safely home at night . . . for renovations to be finished and strangers out of your house) But then there are those perfect moments, like the author described, that are so perfect, so beautiful, so profound, that you wish that you could just freeze those moments and go back to them, again and again. These moments remain in your memory, of course. You may have even gotten a few photos to help outline that memory, but the actual feelings, sensations, experiences will never be duplicated in quite the same way that is happening in that very moment that you wish could last forever. Often times we don’t even grasp that we are in one of those “big” moments until the experience has already passed. The most poignant experiences are the ones when you are fully aware of just how amazing and awe-inspiring these moments are, how special and fleeting these particular happenings are in life and you want to enjoy and savor them, but at the same time, you are already mourning their future loss.

I have become one of those annoying middle-aged women that pissed me off when I was a young mother.

“Enjoy these moments. They grow up so fast!”

When I was younger, that statement, spouted to me by a woman with grown kids would often overwhelm me with fatigue, and anger, and guilt and stress. But I think sometimes it jogged me into a new perspective – added a little bit more patience into my demeanor with my children. It put a little more awareness in me about the preciousness and fleetingness of life, and the moments that make up life. Sometimes, in my utter exhaustion, I slowed down enough to see the constant changes and growth in my children, sometimes on a daily basis. And on rare occasions, I was so overwhelmed with love, and gratefulness, and the awe of the gift of their lives in my life and our lives intertwined, that I wanted to crystallize and become a static statue of that particular moment, with all of the feelings and sensations encapsulated, so that I could experience it forever.

“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.”
― Georges Duhamel

And Another Thing . . . .

Yesterday, I spent all day in a small town located over an hour away from our home, at a high school tennis tournament, with my daughter. We left our home at 6:45 a.m and we returned home, exhausted, sweaty and cranky, at about 6 p.m. My daughter played two matches. We spent all day in the sweltering Florida heat, cheering for her friends and team mates and waiting for her two turns to play. This isn’t anything new. I have four children who, among all of them, have played and/or participated in tennis, football, baseball, basketball, soccer, softball, robotics, academic teams, track, numerous clubs and honor societies, etc. etc. over the decades that we have spent raising them. The list of sports and activities goes on and on and on. This is nothing unusual. My friends with kids would have the same miles-long lists of activities that they have supported their kids with, throughout the years. These activities all take an inordinate amount of effort, time, money, emotion and sacrifice, from every single member of any family unit. There were many, many evenings and weekends that my husband and I barely saw each other, as we were really just ships passing in the night, going to support different ones of our children, at different events, which happened to fall around the same dates and times as each other. I’m not going to get into whether all of this focused, structured activity is/was really even good and/or necessary for children or for society, as a whole. That is a whole different retrospective argument/analysis for a whole different blog. What yesterday’s experience did, though, was got me to thinking about the whole college scandal thing again, and I felt angry, very angry, all over again.

Some of the children whose parents paid to “cheat” their childrens’ way into college acceptances, faked their kids being part of teams, crews – basically members of all of the types of activities that I listed above, and some. They made pretend photo-shopped pictures of their kids participating in events, like the tournament that my daughter and I spent all day yesterday at and also, will spend all day today attending and performing in. I wonder if any of their cars sported stickers like “Soccer Life” or “Proud Football Mom”, even though instead of waking up in the wee small hours of the morning to travel several hours away, paying for pricey travel expenses and accommodations, and spending countless time and emotional equity, consoling and hugging and cheering up a kid who has spent thousands of hours tirelessly working at and practicing a skill that means more to that child than playing video games or hanging out with their friends, these parents instead, decided that they could just cough up one big, fat check at the end, to make up for the fact that neither they nor their kids, really put in any of the time, effort and frankly, overall life force that participating in today’s kids’ sports and activities really require???? (okay, take a breath) The arrogance of these parents appalls me, again and again, in so many regards!!! Thank you for letting me rant. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a cooler to pack before we take off on our early morning journey to the second day of the tennis tournament and I have to fish a uniform out of the dryer before we leave and I have think of the right words to help calm my daughter’s nerves before we arrive for her playing time. These are all efforts that require sweat equity, courage and stretched heart strings, by all parties involved, and these are things that can’t possibly be duplicated by an expensive, fake photograph.

Driving Through The Gates

Today my eldest son is buying his first, “on his own, as an adult” car. This will be his first major purchase since obtaining a regular, “adult” paycheck. My grandmother generously gifted my son her car when he got his driver’s license. From then on, he drove that car or one of our cars or a rental car that his company gave to him to use, during a long training process. However, he just received a nice promotion and he needs his own car.

Who doesn’t remember their first adult car? Mine was a little red Miata convertible. My dad called it my “Barbie Car.” I lived in Pittsburgh at the time and it was perfect . . . in the summer. One winter, it was so snowy we had to dig through the snow to find it. The Miata was so tiny that it had been completely covered in snow. One time my sister was driving it and she got it stuck. Four guys from the local high school football team were able to lift it up and out of the rut that it got stuck in. I’ll never forget that precious, little car. My aunt and I were discussing her first car which was probably the inspiration for my Miata. My aunt was the hip, glamorous career lady in my childhood who took my sister and I to our first concert and bought my sister and I our first private telephones for our bedrooms, among other special, fun treats. She drove a teeny Karmann Ghia convertible. My aunt would let my sister and I sit up in the back of it and do the “queen wave” to our imaginary crowds of adoring fans. The Karmann Ghia didn’t have a working heater, but the woolly blankets made for a cozy ride in that adorable car!

Your first adult car is just another rite of passage into the adult world. My husband is with my son right now. He is relegated to the “I’ve got your back” position, just to make sure that no one unsavory tries to take advantage of someone new to the car buying experience. He is trying to balance his take-charge, fatherly side with the wisdom to allow my son the independence to take the lead. There is such a mix of emotions when your children go through the gates of adulthood. There is nostalgia, excitement, pride, astonishment, a little bit of worry and a lot of hope. My biggest hope is that this car takes him safely and gently through this first leg of his adulthood journey. Just as I’m sure that he’ll never forget so many of the “firsts” in his adult life, I know that he’ll never forget this car. May it be a special one, because my son is so special to me.

Ego or Life?

I found the story about the college-entrance scheme that broke yesterday implicating wealthy parents who were basically bribing their children’s entrance into college, absolutely fascinating. As a mother of three college-aged children and one almost there, it made me reflect on how much our own egos are tied up into our children’s accomplishments, often to their detriment, even when the original motivation, is for our children’s best interests. The problem is that sometimes we lose sight of the difference between what is in our children’s best interests and what is our own competitive, egoistic vision of their best interests. Greedy, calculating people are fully aware of this enormous parental ego machine and big, profitable businesses have bloomed because of it.

I’ll never forget when one of my sons played little league baseball when he was about eight years old. Several little boys on the team, already had separate pitching and hitting coaches. My husband, who had been a college athlete, asked me at that time, “Do these parents realize that most of these kids won’t even make their high school baseball teams?” Yet, travel teams for kids’ sports has become the way. If a child doesn’t play on a travel team, he or she is unlikely to make their high school teams and many travel teams dissuade kids for playing on their high school teams anyway, as they see it as a disturbance to their travel team play and not high caliber enough. Of course, travel teams cost in the thousands to play, not including all of the travel costs, sometimes with teams going out of the country to play. Kids are pushed to such a degree, that several of them have had medical procedures and operations, once only known to professional athletes, who have played their sport for decades. I know all of this first hand. I was a travel soccer mom for years and years. Several of my least flattering moments were on the sidelines of the games my kids played in.

Academics has become equally ridiculously challenging and competitive. I remember seeing many kids crying at various math and academic competitions as their parents angrily chastised them for mistakes made. When my eldest son graduated from high school there were more kids at the ceremony with accolades such as Magna Cum Laude, behind their names than not, a full reversal from when I was a kid. The pressure our children are under, is tremendous. When two achieving young men (one an Olympic swimming hopeful) in my middle son’s 10th grade class killed themselves, I decided to research what is often the cause of teenage suicide. I found out that in cities like Palo Alto where every parent wants their child to go to Stanford, one of the most prestigious, elite universities in our country and therefore almost impossible to get admitted to, teenage suicide is rampant. Authorities in Palo Alto had to install guards at the railroad crossings at night, because kids were committing suicide, in that style, at an alarming rate. We just lost Kelly Catlin, an Olympic cyclist and Stanford graduate student, to suicide. I cannot imagine the pressure she must have felt, that the only safety valve that she found able to relieve that pressure, was to take her own precious life.

We need to wake up as parents. We need to stop seeing our children as extensions of ourselves and instead help to nurture who they are meant to become, not who we want them to become. My friend who works for a large home remodeling association, often complains about the shortage of skilled labor in the market. Not everyone is meant to go to college and many people can make a very nice, comfortable, fulfilling living using their hands to create, and to fix things that are broken. I think a big problem of today’s parenting style, is that we have orchestrated so much of our children’s lives (all in the spirit of misguided love and “keeping up with the Joneses”) that our children themselves, don’t really know who they are, what their real passions are, and what they want out of life. It’s sad.

The ego itself is not a bad thing. We all have an ego and that is what keeps us alive and moving and motivated and inspired to keep ourselves safe. It is that lack of awareness about our own egos that makes things run a muck and allows evil people and entities to take advantage of our fragile egos. When we are aware of what motivates us, we keep ourselves in check. Most of us love our children beyond life itself, so we want to always be sure that what we are doing for our children is truly motivated by our love and guidance for them, to find their own inner potential, strengths and interests. We don’t want our motivations for our kids to come from our egoistic, narcissistic aspects, that in the end will only bring more harm than good, not just for them and for us, but also for society as a whole. When people bloom into what truly excites and motivates them, when people truly live and breathe their own passions, not for the accolades, but for the passion itself, we all benefit. I think that is what is meant by the idea that we are all One. In the end, we all have learned about a handful of the same few historic figures over the years, who have helped shaped our lives as we know it. Most of us aren’t going to be in that handful and I venture to say that what we have learned about those few stand-out historic figures, may not even be the truth, but just skewed stories from other people’s and other time’s perspectives. None of us are going to leave this world with anything, not even with our bodies. However, the innovations, the state of the natural environment, the governments, the religions, the businesses, the arts, the relationship styles etc. is what makes us One. These elements of life are our legacy and all of these elements of life are best when the individuals who make them up, are at their most authentic best. Our job as parents is to be gentle guides and nurturers, so that this Life that we are living and creating together, becomes the fulfillment of the beautiful One that it is meant to be.

Mildly Interested Parenting

“Instant availability without continuous presence is probably the best role a mother can play.” – Professor Lotte Bailyn

Reflecting on motherhood, the above quote really resonates with me. Our generation has often been accused of “helicopter parenting”, perhaps too many times circling around our children, with a tight and noisy presence that was hard for them to shake. Sometimes I kept my circling pattern too tight. Reflecting back, the times that I was in that tight pattern, it really was more about my fears and worries and trying to keep control, than really about what my children needed.

As my children got older, especially my sons, I noticed an inverse relationship to my rapt attention to them. The more interested and engaged I appeared in their lives and doings, the more they pulled back into themselves and into their shells, like tentative turtles. I found that a mild, nonchalant, bemused state of engagement, often got me better results in really hearing about the intricate details about what was really going on in their lives and minds, then a full-on engagement and uninterrupted enthrallment. Listening to their banter as I washed the dishes or paid some bills, barely glancing at my chatty children, was a much more likely scenario to glean golden gems of insight into my children’s psyches than wide-eyed questioning, face-to-face, in hard back chairs.

There is always that teeny bit of gratitude and relief when one of your adult children calls you from college or a lonely hotel room at a work conference, and in whatever subtle way, is asking for your advice and comfort. “Oh, they still need me,” is the joyous, excited thought that sends a warm glow from your heart to the rest of your body, as you prepare to listen and hear and convey your love. And then, at the same time, you quickly realize that you must try to temper your eagerness, to find a balanced, calm approach that will keep your grown children, open and trusting and connected to you.

“We have to bide our time and look for the moment of weakness when we can sneak back into their lives and they will see us and remember us for the people who love them unconditionally.” – Lisa See, novelist