44 Days: Countdown from a Mama's Heart

"I have a son who is my heart.  A wonderful young man, daring and loving and strong and kind."--Maya Angelou

The days are numbered now.  Instead of stretching on, infinity-like, in a tiring chain of ordinary days, it seems as if every day now is a special gift.  The child who made me a mom and the child who has stretched me into both a better, more patient version of myself and also a screeching maniac will become a man very soon.

I am now faced with all the questions:

• Did I do enough?  Did I prepare him?  Did I challenge him?  Did I nurture him?  I know that I loved him with my whole heart; but was it enough?  
• How did I scar him?  We all carry the scars of our parents' mistakes.  What were the wounds that I inflicted that will be tough for him to heal from?
• Is he ready? Can he handle the world?  What happens if he doesn't have cell service?  Can he use a map?  
• Does he understand the world he's entering?  The answer there is almost definitely a resounding  "no."  We talk things out in our family.  We use lowered voices.  We practice kindness.  

 My countdown has begun.

In only 23 days, he will turn 18.  While the number means he can vote and that my legal responsibility for him ends, it doesn't take into account the fact that he has never held a paying job.  He has never had to pay for his own clothing or food (unless it's a quick after-school stop to Panda Express).  He has never had to pay a bill or do anything much more difficult than take an exam or navigate his way to a new place using the data that I pay for on the cell phone that I purchased for him.  Turning 18 will not make him an adult.  And my questions continue:

• Did I coddle him too much?
• Have I made too many of his decisions?
• Will he be lonely?  Will he be scared?

In only 38 days, he will graduate from high school.  While that rite of passage means that he no longer has to participate in the very thing that has been a solid roadblock to our relationship, I don't know that he is looking at it with anything other than a profound sense of relief.  He won't have to hear me nagging.  No more conversations about responsibility and homework.  No more square peg not fitting in a very round hole.  But graduating from high school will not make him an adult.

The questions haunt me:

• Did I push too much?
• Was I wrong about...everything?

And, in only 44 days, my eldest son will enlist.  He will join the armed services of the United States, working toward becoming an airman in the United States Air Force.  While so many (99%?) of his peers will be enjoying their last summers before college, my son will be running, doing push-ups, experiencing homesickness without contact from home and learning what it means to be an airman.  There won't be coddling there.  He will probably be lonely.  And he will probably be scared.  But in the process, he will dig deep.  He will find his core strength.  And he will do the work that I know he can do, even if it terrifies me at the same time.  He will earn a paycheck but at the same time, he will become a part of a brotherhood that I can never know.  And he will join his grandfathers, his father and his uncle in service to our country.  I have never been prouder.  And I have never been so aware of time ticking toward the day when he takes the oath of service to leave his childhood behind.

He will become a man, forging his own path.  Far away from me.  Beginning only 44 short days from now.

June 19, 2018.  I love you, kid.  And I'll see you on the other side as a man. 

Parenting Success!

“It's not our job to toughen our children up to face a cruel and heartless world. It's our job to raise children who will make the world a little less cruel and heartless.”
― L.R. Knost

Thing 2 mows the grass

This morning, I pushed the pedal of the garbage can to lift the lid so I could put yesterday's coffee grounds into the bin.  The lid gaped open and I saw a snarled mass of blue painter's tape among the other garbage.  I gasped out loud and then wandered into the dining room where, last night, fairies had come and removed the tape and re-attached switch plates and electrical outlet covering to the walls.

Tears started streaming down my face.

Yesterday, as with most weekends lately, I spent much of my day painting.  Painting, painting, painting.  As The Fiancé and I look to blend our families and our homes, we've opted to sell my house.  And, in order to sell, a little prep work must be done.  So, we've both been working at our individual homes to get everything in order.  He's been here a lot but he has so much to do at his own home that it's often best to split our time and just work on our own stuff.

The boys have helped some as well but, for the most part, it's me. Painting, painting, painting.  And I'm TIRED of painting.  And I'm just tired in general. 

Yesterday, Thing 2 asked me how he could help.  I told him that it would be a great help to get that painter's tape off the floor and put the switch plates back on the wall.  We then went over to a delicious dinner at The Fiancé's house and I figured he forgot all about it.

While I slept last night, he must have gone into the dining room and helped me out.

My kids are starting to really show their characters. 

Their actions and their words every day are showing me that these young men have bloomed into these thoughtful, rational, kind, funny and giving young men.  Now, as with all of us, they certainly have their flaws but I am so often amazed at who these people are. 

And I don't know how it happened but I know that we've made concerted efforts with high hopes that they would turn out just this way.

• They were lovingly cuddled and read to as infants.  When they cried, I picked them up.  They had schedules.  I was respectful of them, telling them even before they understood, "I'm going to pick you up now," instead of swooping them into the air with no warning.
• When they were young children, I was struggling myself.  But I apologized when my temper was short.  And I let them know that I was a little sad but that the sadness had nothing to do with them and that, in fact, their very existence made me happy.  I told them that my sadness would go away.  And it did.  I believe it's important to not involve your kids in your problems but to let them know that you do have them.  And it's very important to let them see you working through your problems.  Life isn't easy...it's very, very messy.  Letting kids think that life doesn't have challenges just isn't fair to them.
• We have always talked to them as if they were adults.  Their questions were answered.  Obviously the subject matter was tailored to their developmental stages, but we always gave them reasons behind actions.  
• In our house, we do what we say we're going to do.  Period.
• We have allowed discussion.  One time, when Thing 2 was 10, he had asked me if he could attend a friend's event.  He was already committed to going to his grandparents' house, so I told him that he could not.  He was obviously disappointed but said OK. After a little while, he came to me and asked if he could talk to me about my decision.  He said then that this event was important to him and that it only happened once per year.  And, while he realized it would happen again next year, a year was a FULL TENTH OF HIS LIFE.  He reminded me that he was still very, very young.  He didn't whine and he didn't cry.  He just stated his case.  And I listened.  And I changed my answer.  But I did make him call his grandparents and let them know why he was backing out of his prior commitment to them. 
• We have always encouraged them to TRY everything.  
• Kindness matters in our house.  Words like "stupid" and "shut up" were never allowed here.  I even curtailed my own sailor's mouth.  For a while. :)

I don't know if anything we did helped them become who they are today but I do hope that most of what we did had a positive impact.  I am a pretty strong believer in nature over nurture, but I know that a nurturing environment has to at least act as a springboard.  I hope that we have shown them to treat others the way you expect to be treated. 

It is overwhelming to me that these boys are turning into young men that I admire.  I know that their hearts are right where I want them to be as a mom of boys.  They will respect their girlfriends and, eventually, their wives and children.  They will be honest and kind.  And they will take care of their mama.  The blue tape in the garbage this morning showed me that.

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In Praise of The "Other Kids"

“Misfits deal with the double-edged reality of having our differences act as the source of both our challenges as well as our successes.”
― Tiffany L. Jackson

My kid got booted out of the chorus concert last night.  Jettisoned. Discarded.  Heaved. Cast off.  Now, I was CAREFULLY watching my kid almost 100% of the time.  Studying him.  Wondering why he wasn't moving his lips more.  I mean, I've sung a LOT and I'm always smiling, enunciating and having a grand time.  However, since he claims that his teacher has "ruined music" for him, I suppose I can understand why he wasn't a little more engaged.

I didn't see any behavior last night that would warrant a boot.  Granted, he can come up with some sarcastic zingers out of the blue (I don't know WHERE HE GETS THAT FROM?) and I obviously couldn't HEAR everything.  But, he didn't seem to be doing anything other than looking like an uncomfortable teenager on the stage.  Since that teacher has his dad and me on speed dial, I could only assume that he had done something in class earlier to warrant this humiliating exit off the stage.  (Note:  No children were harmed in this incident.  She booted him quickly and quietly during a break between songs.  The Thing who left the stage expressed extreme pleasure at not having to endure the exquisite motor-skills on display as his classmates awkwardly maneuvered through "Somebody to Love.") 

The whole matter got me thinking about school and my kids.

They are not good at the whole school thing.  They just aren't.  They're SMART.  And they're funny and polite and (mostly) respectful.  They have kind hearts and they are quick to defend the underdog.  But, let's face it: they suck at school.

I, on the other hand, was GREAT at school.  Kids had to dodge my flailing arms as they shot up to answer question after question.  I LOVED A's.  And I loved praise.  And it came easy for me.  I was a STAR at school.

Until there wasn't school anymore.  Then, well...I sucked at LIFE.  There were no more tests or gold stars or "This is EXCELLENT WORK."  There were still deadlines.  But there were no 100% right answers anymore.  This left me stymied.  And I fumbled around for many years seeking the gold star and the teacher who would acknowledge my raised hand.

So is there a correlation between kids who suck at school and become great at life?  I PERSONALLY know more people than I can count on one hand who didn't shine at school but who became rock stars at life. That kid who got thrown out of class by the academically gifted teacher and forced to sit outside in his desk? He owns his own business.  Those smart kids who didn't care about the grades have become successful engineers, managers, and business owners who travel all over the world.

I resigned myself a long time ago to the fact that my kids won't get awards on awards day.  They won't be celebrated in the hallowed halls of early education.  They are one of the "other kids."  But this morning, I'm a little excited.  Because while they may not be living up to the traditional standard of excellence, I know they have a good foundation.  They're good PEOPLE even if they aren't great STUDENTS.  And if we can offer up the first 18-22 years of their life as a sacrifice, I think it's a good trade if they can take the years of disappointing mediocrity and turn them into a lifetime of success.

So, to the teacher who kicked my kid out in the middle of the concert last night:  thank you. Thank you for opening my eyes to the fact that this stage isn't the only stage.   My kid is a good kid.  And your choice last night was yours...I hope it made all the difference to you. 

Rock on, young men.  The world awaits.

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Parenting Teens: When Does This Merry-Go-Round STOP?

I hope you never look back, but you never forget,
All the ones who love you, in the place you live,
I hope you always forgive, and you never regret,
And you help somebody every chance you get,
Oh, you find God's grace, in every mistake,
And always give more than you take.

But more than anything, yeah, more than anything

My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too...

Yeah, this....is my wish.

-Rascal Flatts 

Things 1 and 2 off to school

Yesterday, I watched my eldest son walk away from the house toward his bus stop.  His head bowed, he looked more man than child as he moved.  His arms have become roped with the veins of a man and his face needs shaving more often than not.  

His brother, taller now by an inch or two, still loped away with the easy grace of a child. But I know, as I watch his limbs lengthen and hear the deepening in his voice, that he is also moving away from our shared life and into his own.

They're in tenth and eight grades respectively and they each have only a few more years to benefit from my daily tutelage and the day-to-day umbrella of my winsome personality.

I was talking with a friend this morning about my changing role as a parent.  "I don't WANT to tell them what to do anymore," I complained.  "I shouldn't have to tell them to take out the trash or mow the grass or do their homework."  Except, apparently, I do. I have an example from last semester that fully illustrates that point but it makes me tired to even think of it.

Here's the problem:  as they begin to LOOK more like men, I don't want to ACT like some woman nagging them to do what they're supposed to do.

See, I don't want them to get accustomed to the idea of, oh, if I don't live up to my responsibilities, some chick will just tell me that I need to do my laundry or feed the dogs or pick my socks up off the living room floor.  Scratch that, socks are found on every horizontal surface in my home.  I don't want to train them to be nagged.  Nor do I want them to live with a nagger.  There is nothing more miserable on this earth than being told constantly that you're simply not meeting expectations.

So how do I handle it?  I often let them fail.  A lot.  I don't rescue them nearly as much as I could.  Or maybe even as much as I should.  I won't let them completely screw their lives over just yet but I regularly just expect them to do what they should.  But, often, they don't.

Dagnabit.  WHEN DOES THIS PARENTING STUFF STOP?

I need to come up with solutions to ease them into adulthood without causing me to lose my tenuous grasp on sanity.  Or, I could just do what I always do..what I always HAVE done as a parent:  I need to keep adapting to their needs.  I need to continue to morph as a parent to ensure that I'm giving them what they need as they need it.  It's OK for me to pull back but probably not OK for me to expect them to behave like a 40-something adult when I can barely manage that on a regular basis.  So, fine, I'll keep reminding them.

They're gonna screw up.  They're gonna tick me off.  And my job is to love them through it.  And usher them into adulthood relatively unscarred and without excessive emotional baggage that they'll have to sort through with a professional.

For now, I'll continue to watch them walk away.  I'm growing accustomed to it.  I just hope that they know that they wear my heart on their backs.  And that, no matter what...no matter how many times they fail or, let's hope, succeed, that their mom will always be thankful that she only has to raise them once.

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Learning to Let Go: A Mother's Story

“The best way to keep children at home is to make the home atmosphere pleasant, and let the air out of the tires.”
― Dorothy Parker

This morning, I dropped Thing 1 off at the high school so he could go with his marching band to a competition a few towns over.  He got out of the car, gathered his things, and then looked me in the eye and, with his deep manly voice, said, "OK, then.  I'll see you later."

Thing 1 walks off into the sunrise

I drove away a little teary-eyed.  I'm often not sentimental about traditional milestones that I'm SUPPOSED to be weepy over.  I didn't cry when he went to kindergarten.  It didn't bother me when he went to middle school.  But, now...these days he's needing me less and less.  He's out there doing his own thing.  His world is his own.  And it hits me every so often that my Big Job as a mom is almost done.  He's almost baked.

This morning, he got up before I even thought to go and rouse him.  He came downstairs and proceeded to pack his lunch with nary a reminder from me.  He consulted his list and gathered all the items he needed for the day.  As he stood eye-to-eye with me, we discussed how best to pack and where he could put his spending money so he could have access to it (and not, as I always fear, lose it and have no money to eat!). 

He's growing up.  All those motherly worries come back to me.  Does he have faith?  Can he withstand the storms of life on his own?  What if someone hurts him?  Have we taught him well? What if he fails?

I worry because the child's head is quite often in the clouds.  He missed the bus just a couple of weeks ago not because he was late to the stop, but because he was daydreaming when the bus pulled up.  He stood there, lost in his own world, while the GIANT YELLOW SCHOOL BUS picked up his classmates and moved along.  He's not prepared to go out on his own!  This child NEEDS a mother.

He's been mine from day one.  We learned about life together.  I had no idea how to be a mother and he was new to the world.  I was fortunate to be able to stay home with him as an infant.  I cried when he cried.  I tried to sleep in the few minutes when he would sleep.  We left the house every morning together in pursuit of the day's Great Adventure and I talked and talked and talked.  Knowing who he is now, I must have driven him bat-shit crazy as a child.  I'm almost positive he cried so much because he simply couldn't take so much interaction--touching, holding and talking. 

He's out on his own today.  He's building his own life and dreaming his own dreams.  And I, as I should, am standing on the sidelines cheering him on, quietly.  His life is not mine.  And my role now is to become more and more passive as the years go by until the only role I have is that of quiet cheerleader. 

My best friend's daughter went to college this year.  I thought she handled it very well as a mother.  I know she struggles still...but she's doing better than I thought she would.  I know that, when my time comes and my chickens fly the nest, I'll be fine.  But, until then, I will probably have more of these teary reminders that Thing 1 will be Out On His Own in a blink of an eye.

The days are very, very long.  But the years?  They're so very, very short.

It's good to be back in the Rockin' Chair...if only for a moment.  Ya'll take care.

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An Open Letter to My Sons, Ages 13 and 11

  “Your children are not your children.
They are 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 make 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 also loves the bow that is stable.”
― Kahlil Gibran

Dear Things 1 and 2,

I've been thinking a lot about my parenting lately and I've come to some tough conclusions.  See, no one gave me a user manual when either of you were born.  And no one told me that Thing 2 would not be simply the updated beta version of Thing 1...but an entirely new being altogether.  One would think that, sharing the same genetic coding, you would be FAIRLY similar but, alas, I have had to adapt as a parent to two completely different personalities.

Here's the deal, kiddos:  my vision of your lives is not reality.  

Let me explain.  See, I thought that maybe you would be like me...except BETTER VERSIONS of me.  I thought you would have my excellent grades with none of my weirdness and personality flaws.  OR, I thought you would be like your dad.  Maybe like who he is NOW.  I thought you would be even-tempered and funny with the smarts to ace tests when you felt like it and charm rooms when you didn't.

Smaller versions of Things 1 and 2

But the thing that I've come to grips with is this:  you are completely different people.  You have your own paths to follow and the paths that you are choosing are probably not going to be the paths I would have chosen for you.  I would have picked straight A's with plenty of wholesome and fun-filled activities.  I would have picked Kookie Kutter Kids of the TV sitcom variety.  The reason I've harped about grades and responsibility and Doing What's Right is because I was expecting you to stand tall on that conveyor belt and make your way through the factory to the end. To the Diploma.  To the College Degree.  To be like Everyone Else.

I have been wrong.  Damnation, it stings to admit it.  But I have been wrong. 

Who both of you are is so much more amazing than I could have ever conjured up.  Man, you're funny.  And kind (most of the time, if not to each other).  You're quick-witted and lively.  Sometimes, you flash a bit of anger.  But you stand up for what's right.  And you don't seem to care about what the crowd is doing...each of you carves your own way.  You're so smart it's scary sometimes.  I don't know if your teachers see it because I don't know that you care to show them.  You regularly miss assignments.  One of you gets suspended more often than I care to think about.  You bump and grind through the machinery.  And somehow...you're getting polished.  You're getting through it.  Not the way I would have liked and not the easy way...but you're getting through it.

I've been scared for you, I'll admit it.  The world is not always kind to people who are different...to people who make their own way.  But you're handling it. As you tell me, Thing 1, you've got this under control.

I'm sorry for "monologuing" as you put it just the other day, Thing 2.  I'll try not to do that anymore.  It must suck to sit there and listen to a parent go through all the reasons why you should be doing something differently.  My excuse would have been that I want what's best for you.  But maybe I don't know what that is. 

Heck, I'm just getting my OWN life figured out...I don't know how I ever thought I could be a parent and be responsible for molding OTHER people.  This is YOUR life.  The mistakes you make are yours.  I can offer guidance...but I cannot shape you to be that vision of the kids I THOUGHT I wanted.  (Besides, those kids would bore me to TEARS!)

I think you're the bees' knees.  You're the bomb diggity.  You are both easily far and away the best thing I've done with my life.  And I am so honored to get to be a part of your lives. Thank you for not allowing me to bend you into people you are not.  Thank you for being strong in the face of parental stupidity.

I'll try to do better.  Now, please...finish your homework.

If you like my blog, share it.  Or Like my FB page to get updates.  Or make a comment below.  If you don't like it, well...just try not to hurt my feelings.  I'm sensitive.

SMH

“Constantly talking isn't necessarily communicating.”
― Charlie Kaufman

Communication with your kids is important.  Everyone knows how vital communication is to the success of every relationship.  How many articles have been written about how to talk to your spouse, your parents, your friends, your boss and your dog?  For many years, even though I earned a bachelor's degree in communication, I thought it was all about talking.  But communication is about an entire environment of verbal and non-verbal cues.

What?

 In my home, I have an intentional atmosphere for my kids. In that atmosphere there is no yelling (OK, EVERY now and again I say "GET YOUR JACKETS!").  There are outlawed words:  "stupid," "dumb," and "shut up" are a few examples.  Most of our time is spent together downstairs.  We may be in different rooms, but my house isn't terribly large so we can talk with each other or, if we're not in the mood for talking, we can at least SEE each other.  My home is intentionally SAFE for my kids.  While I try not to over-praise them (kids totally see through that stuff...they know they can't be great at EVERYTHING), I do consistently honor them by respecting them with my words and my actions in our home.  I hope they feel loved and cherished.  I have intentionally set up an environment where they can feel safe enough to say ANYTHING they want to...within reason.

That is not to say that we don't joke around.  A lot.  They have the misfortune of having a mother who relishes sarcasm and who appreciates their growing senses of humor so much that I allow boundaries to be pushed PROBABLY a little further than they should be.  As they ease more into the adults they will become, I enjoy bantering with them back and forth. 

This morning, Thing 2 and I were exchanging texts.  He used the phrase "U r busy" and then proceeded to regale me with ALL the various text acronyms he's picked up.  I responded back with my own text talk just to show him that I'm TOTALLY still hip and with it.

And then...

Thing 2 will not get into trouble for testing (or texting) his boundaries by using WTF.  I was actually fairly amused by it.  But he KNOWS that he was testing a boundary and will, most likely, not use it again for a while.  Until he decides to test me a liittttle bit more.

But the beautiful thing about it is that he feels SAFE to test those boundaries.  He communicates with me easily and often.  Thing 1 is slightly different because he communicates far less (both verbally and non-verbally).  But I know that he feels safe to talk with me because we've had some jaw-dropping conversations over the past year or so.  (I did a good job on the outside but on the INSIDE my eyeballs were rolling back in my head and my jaw was on the floor.)

And now I'm going to go bone up on my text talk.  Apparently, THIS is how we'll roll. BRB.

If you like my blog, share it.  Or Like my FB page to get updates.  Or make a comment below.  If you don't like it, well...just try not to hurt my feelings.  I'm sensitive.

Crazy New Technology in Our Classrooms

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
― Arthur C. Clarke

Ya'll, it's gettin' CRAZY up in here!

I went to an information session for parents today at the middle school where Thing 1 will spend his final year in middle school as an eighth grader and Thing 2 will begin his middle school years as a sixth grader.  Our county received a technology grant to purchase tablets for every middle school student.  These tablets will be incorporated into the classrooms to give teachers real-time feedback on how well their students understand the material, allow students to explore information in greater detail using a variety of pre-loaded apps, and to give students, teachers and parents the ability to review what went on in the classroom each day using the Class Feed feature.

I have two words for all of this:  WAY COOL!  What an excellent way to incorporate the technology that our kids have already ingrained into their systems (they're calling them "digital natives") into the classroom environment.  And they've moved beyond the almost-antiquated laptop environment straight into the tablet world.  I am truly excited about the educational possibilities this presents to our students and cannot wait to see what thresholds they'll be crossing in the coming years.

• The teacher can pause a lesson to ask the class if they're getting it.  The students then magically receive three icons:  a green smiley face (I get it!), a yellow blank face (I sorta get it) and a red frowney face (I'm confused).  The kid can THEN hit the icon of their choice and the teacher has instant feedback from the class about where the class is on the spectrum.

• The teacher can also ask a question with A/B, A/B/C or A/B/C/D responses and ask the students to respond.  The teacher IMMEDIATELY receives feedback on their screen about who answered what and which students are getting it right or wrong.

•  The teacher has the ability to lead discussion groups within the classroom virtual environment.  He or she can include the whole classroom or small groups of students.  

• If a child must stay home sick, they can "check in" to their virtual classroom and participate with the class for any tablet-fueled lessons going on that day.  They will receive the same push notifications of homework assignments and in-class work their peers receive when they log in.

I cannot possibly begin to imagine how much teacher brains are going to ache during these first few weeks of school.  At the same time, I am thrilled at the possibilities this brings into the classroom!  They can pull Group A to the side to continue to work on a concept, direct Group B to look into the concept further and tell Group C to go home and sleep off whatever funk they're in.

Also, if the teacher wants everyone to pay attention to something they're doing, they can lock the kids OUT of their tablets with this message:

ALL EYES ON THE TEACHER

This effectively forces the kids to look away from their screens and to the front of the classroom.  HOW DO I GET THIS FEATURE AT HOME?  I would love to be able to push a button and have:

LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER 

flash across every technological device in my home.  Sweet.

THEN (listen to THIS one!), the teacher can decide to virtually "call on" a student to answer a question.  So, the kid's tablet starts flashing:

THE TEACHER IS CALLING ON YOU TO ANSWER

and all the other tablets in the classroom start flashing

THE TEACHER HAS CALLED ON THING 1 TO ANSWER.

Using screen time to educate may very well make a world of difference for my introverted genius.  He DEFINITELY responds to indicators on a screen whereas he often tends to ignore "real world"  stimuli.

I will also NOW have a record of what goes on in the classroom.  I can visualize it now:

Me:  Do you have homework?

Thing 1/Thing 2:  I don't think so.

Me: Well, did the teacher give an assignment?

Thing 1/Thing 2:  I don't remember.

Me:  Please pull out your TABLET AND FIGURE IT OUT.  

The conversation will cease immediately.  It won't be the 20-minute run-around I used to get.  We will have DIGITAL PROOF to answer the question of: homework or no homework? 

You can't see me, but I'm totally doing the Cabbage Patch right now...

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Worst Parenting Fail EVER: The Target Story

“The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing.”

― Henry Ford

One night last summer, Thing 2 and I headed out to Target to buy something or other we needed for the house.  It was paper towels or dog treats or something we probably could have done without for another night.  We got in the car and drove to the shopping center about 10 minutes from our home.

As we shopped, we laughed and teased each other.  Thing 2 is always good for a laugh and we never fail to banter back and forth whenever we're out and about.  After checkout, we were wagering if he could keep up with the car running beside it.

"You COULD NOT!" I bellowed.

"Yes, I TOTALLY could," he protested.  "If you promised to not drive as FAST as you COULD."

"Even if I drove under 10 miles per hour it would be tough for you to keep up!"

We continued debating as we loaded our bags into the trunk.  I unlocked the doors with the key fob and hopped behind the wheel.  The parking space in front of me was empty, so I eased the sedan forward and then drove out of the parking lot.

Thing 2 was too young to be in the front seat, so I chatted merrily away to the backseat.  I drove onto the highway, speeding toward home, talking away.  Thing 2 wasn't answering.  Sometimes he plays tricks on me, so I called his name.  "WHY aren't you ANSWERING me?" I complained.  I adjusted the rearview mirror so I could see his expression.  It reflected an empty seat back.

I frowned. "Thing 2?"

Still no answer.

"Are you HIDING from me?"  Surely, I thought, he was scrunched down in the floor board.  I was started to get a little irritated with the game though.

"OK.  Joke's over.  Answer me, please."

Still nothing from the back seat.

I craned my neck toward the back, trying to make out a figure on the floorboard.

Nothing.

My mind raced.  Well, obviously he was IN THE CAR.  I'd been talking to him the entire way!  Perhaps he was hiding UNDER the seat somehow?  Was that even possible?  Did my car have one of those trick back seats where maybe he slid into the trunk somehow?

The reality was unthinkable.  My mind worked every POSSIBLE scenario except the only one that made sense:  I had left my child in the parking lot. 

I pulled over at the top of the exit ramp and hurried out of the car to peer into the back seat.  No.  There was no child.  My mouth went dry and my heart plummeted somewhere near the vicinity of my knees.   I had left my child in the parking lot.

Gulping for air, I did an illegal u-turn (sorry, police officers, I was PANICKING!) and sped back toward the ramp to the highway.

OMG.OMG.OMG.OMG. OMG.OMG.OMG. 

My thoughts were wild.  He had never been left anywhere!  I am the OVERPROTECTIVE PARENT!  He always wore helmets.  He only went to friends' houses whose parents I was SURE were fine and upstanding.  I breastfed him!  He didn't eat peanut butter until the doctor said it was OK.  I mean...I HAD LEFT MY CHILD IN THE PARKING LOT.

I have no idea how fast I moved my car down that highway, but as I sped along, an unknown number rang shrilly in the car, silent save for my wildly beating heart.  I answered quickly, hoping to find a Target employee on the other end.

"Hello!" I shouted.

"Mom?" A hesitant voice floated into my ear. 

"OHMYGOD, honey, are YOU OKAY?"

"You LEFT ME!"

"OH, I know, I know, I know.  I'm on my way right now.  OHMYGOD, I'm SO SORRY. I'm SO SORRY."

He told me that he recognized a kid from Scouts and his dad.  They had picked him up from his harried run after me through the parking lot and were idling in the lot while he called.

I hung up the phone.

OHTHANKYOUGODIPROMISEIWILLNEVERDOANYTHINGBADORWRONGAGAINIFICANHELPIT.   tHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU.

I careened into the parking lot and headed straight for the SUV idling there with lights on.  I screeched to a halt, flung open the door and, wild-eyed, walked toward the car.

The dad eyed me suspiciously.

"Rough night?" He peered closely at my face.  I'm certain if he was assessing whether or not I was addled by drugs or mental health issues.  (And, hey, I can't blame him!  I actually am GLAD he was careful about me.  Obviously, there was cause for concern here.)

I rambled on about something, probably doing nothing to assuage his fears.  He talked to me for a couple of minutes and then told Thing 2 to go ahead and get out of the car.  Thing 2 stumbled out of the car and ran toward me, tears now streaming down his face.  He had been brave as long as he could.  Now that mom was here, he could let loose.

We took this photo on our NEXT Target visit.

He got back in the car.  I took a few steadying breaths, thanked the Scout dad profusely and got back behind the wheel.  We went over how it had happened.  When I had unlocked the doors, I had only unlocked the driver's door instead of all four doors.  He thought I was playing a trick on him and ran alongside gamely, expecting to see my tail lights burn red at any moment.  But the car only sped up and away, leaving him running as fast as he could after me.  

It was heartbreaking to hear his voice, small and scared and hiccuping through tears in the back seat.  I apologized a hundred times and told him that I would not make that mistake again.

He bravely wiped his tears as I watched him in the rearview mirror.  And then he laughed,  "I can't WAIT to tell Thing 1 that you LEFT ME AT TARGET!"

It's been a while since I left my youngest son in a dark parking lot.  But neither kid lets me forget it.  "Mom, I'm just going to take the CART OVER HERE.  DON'T LEAVE ME."  It's a little easier now that they ride in the front seat.  I can at least look over and realize that a warm body is occupying the space.

Life goes on.  And we fumble along with it.

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Teach Your Children Well

What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say.

                                                            - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Anyone who became a teenager in the 80's probably remembers that commercial where the kid gets caught smoking pot by his father.  His father angrily shakes the bag of marijuana at his son and asks him where he picked up this habit.  The kid angrily responds, "I learned it from watching YOU, OK?  I learned it from watching you."

BEFORE the snowball fight.

I parent (as a verb) intentionally for many reasons.  But one of the reasons I am careful with my actions around my children is because that commercial always stuck in my head.  I know that my children will emulate my language, my lifestyles, my habits about money, and my easygoing attitude toward household chores (OK, fine...my sloppy attitude).

I do realize that many of my choices will impact them profoundly for the rest of their lives and will spur them to make their own choices based on what they've known in our family of origin.

So, I'm predicting the future.  Call me Swami Kelly.

1. My kids won't keep secrets.  I am open about my screw-ups.  When I (accidentally) left Thing 2 at Target, I didn't ask them to keep it from their grandmother or their father, both of whom could have easily reamed me up one side and down the other for that little error.  I confessed to both parties and even told their father that if HE had done what I'd done, I would be LIVID.  I make a lot of mistakes as a parent. But I never, ever say to my kids "Don't tell..." because I know family secrets can destroy you.  I would never put that burden on my children.  And they know they can be open and honest.  And they are.  Much to my chagrin, at times.
2. My kids will choose play over work. (I KNOW this is not always a good thing!) People are extremely important to me.  FUN is extremely important to me.  I emphasize to them that you only get this one life:  choose joy.  This means that my house is never clean enough, my "have to do" list gets longer, and I always look just this shy of homeless.  I care about people.  I care about experiences.  I model this for my children.  We are always up for going out for ice cream as a family or heading out to a movie over weeding the garden.  We choose to read books, each of us spilled over our furniture of choice, over cleaning bathrooms. I want them to know that they are more important to me than a freshly mopped floor (although what I wouldn't give to have BOTH!).
3. My kids will spend money frivolously.  (Although, HOPEFULLY, they'll get more of their dad in them than me and be savers over spenders.)  I am always up for an slushie.  Or a movie.  Or an ice cream from the ice cream truck that calls to us from the street during the summer. Or whitewater rafting. Or skydiving. Again, I hope they'll pick up my lightheartedness but maybe a lot of their dad's caution as well!
4. My kids will value people.  They've watched me drop everything to help throw a surprise party for a friend.  They see me in their schools.  They watch me volunteer in different capacities.  They hear me counseling friends over the phone.  I emphasize to them that people are the priority...always.  Everyone has feelings.  Everyone needs someone who will listen, lend a hand, or simply share a meal with laughter. 
5. My kids will admit their mistakes.  Man, I certainly make a lot of 'em.  My kids see how I handle myself after I've lost my temper (which doesn't happen often...but...).  They have received apologies from me...heartfelt and sincere apologies after I've been in the wrong.  They know that I'm not perfect and that I don't expect them to be.  But I do expect them to accept responsibility for their choices...just as I do. 

It's SO TOUGH to be a parent because the work doesn't stop at the end of a shift.  It's ongoing.  24/7.  They never stop watching.  And I have to be on my guard to model behaviors that I want them to emulate.  Sometimes I fail.  And that's when I admit my mistake and tell them I hope to do better next time.  They watch me fall down and they see me get back up.

I want to be able to say to them:  Do as I do.  That is always, always my goal.

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We Are Family

“What can you do to promote world peace? Go home and love your family.”
― Mother Teresa

I have spent the past week entirely in the company of my children.  I am currently locked away in my bedroom with a glass of wine and two dogs with the television blasting the third season of the Gilmore Girls.  After seven days, suffice it to say that I am finished with family time.

Rock, paper, scissors during the Fourth of July Festival

Don't get me wrong.  I adore my children.  I do.  But I would currently like to adore them from a distance.  Preferably with them downstairs pursuing their own activities and me upstairs not having to talk to them.  People say that I will miss them when they're gone.  And I'm sure I will.  (Surely.)  But, for now, I need some space.  And some quiet.  And a few minutes where no one is farting and then telling me about it.

We had a lot of terrific conversations this past week and we endured some fun (and some not-so-fun) activities together.  I learned more about these growing strangers in my home and I feel closer to them after hours in the car and in the house.  We've had junk food feasts, marathon movie sessions, car rides in the countryside and a variety of learning activities disguised as fun.  We didn't get to nearly all of what we wanted to do but that's typical of life with me.  One day, we decided to wake up when we wanted to and we stayed in our pajamas and ate ice cream.  We didn't have a typical "vacation" but it was one that may have been the most valuable yet.  And I'm leaving it feeling fulfilled and rested and ready to get away from these two.

I came to an interesting conclusion here at the end of the week.  For a long time, I have yearned for an adult companion to share our vacations and, in truth, our lives.  I told my Ex Husband the other day that I am glad for the ability to come and go as I please, to do what I want and to not share my bed with a snoring man.  But that wasn't really the whole truth.  I have wished for that very thing over the past several years.  I tell myself (and others) that it's better this way.  It's better to be single and do what I wish.  But I have longed for a man who loves me and, most importantly, loves my children as his own.  And, as much as I like to ignore it, I am a woman who was made to be loved by a man. 

This may really not happen for our little family.  Thing 1 will be up and out into the world in only five short years and Thing 2 will be not far behind him.  During this week together, I found that I enjoyed their company wholly and fully and we were able to be loud and silly together.  I found myself wondering if a blended family would somehow change that.  The answer is undoubtedly yes.  It WOULD change it...now, I can't say if it would be BETTER or WORSE.  But the change would be inevitable.

So I came up with a few good reasons why it's OK for me to remain a single mom for the next seven years:

• I can make all the decisions.  Let's face it.  I'm ALL ABOUT control.  And being right.  And, if I'm the only adult present, I can sing Janet Jackson ALL DAY LONG.  "Now I know I've got to take...control.  Now, I've got a lot..."  I can say yes.  Or no.  And we can have ice cream BEFORE dinner.  
• I can roll my eyes when Thing 1 has an adolescent throwing-things-in-his-room-fit.  This morning, Thing 1 woke up on the WRONG side of bed.  Thing 2 and I were downstairs hearing thuds and thumps.  I knew Thing 1 was just working things out and allowed the behavior because he wasn't harming anyone...he was just getting out his feelings physically without being destructive.  That's totally allowed in my home.  When he came down and slammed his breakfast dishes on the table, I addressed the behavior quickly and it ceased immediately.  I worry that another adult might escalate poor behavior instead of addressing and defusing it.
• We can eat cereal for dinner.  Rules are present in my home but I'm not a stickler for some things.  I see no reason to cook a meat and two vegetables for EVERY SINGLE DINNER.  Sometimes we have cereal. Sometimes we have nutter-fluffers.  And, while we almost ALWAYS eat at the table, sometimes we have TV dinners.  Flexibility is my middle name.
• There is no drama.  I'm not always the best at choosing partners.  I don't want to cry in front of my kids because my feelings are hurt.  I don't want to lose myself or sacrifice myself for another person.  That wouldn't be good.  When the time is right, I will be in a HEALTHY relationship with someone who respects me and loves my kids.  As it is, we have zero drama.  Zero drama is an important part of family life. 
• They get all of me.  I can focus on my hoodlums.  My time and attention belong to them.  OK, I understand that it's important for them to see how healthy relationships function.  But they can get that from their dad and his girlfriend right now.  Or from their grandparents.  They don't have to model relationships from me.  What I can do is give them my energy.  I can laugh at their jokes (but only if they're funny) and play games with them and talk with them about their ideas. 

 Sure, part of me is still a bit sad that we don't have a fourth wheel with a wheel or two or three of his own.   But that's just not in the cards for us.  At least not for right now.   And that's OK. (I mean, I wouldn't say "no" to, you know, a real-life Prince Charming or anything...)  Our little family is chugging along just fine.  As long as they stay downstairs for a little while...

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Winging It: An American Family Staycation

“Her purchases just about busted her vacation budget, but what else is a vacation for, if not for overindulgence and mindless extravagance?”
― Candace Schuler

For the first time in my adult life, I am actively participating in a staycation.   The staycation isn't one where we just stay at HOME, but one where we stay within a day's drive (to and from...we spend the nights in our own beds) from our home.  The idea of a staycation runs in direct opposition to everything I feel.  I enjoy leaving home.  I like going..anywhere and everywhere.  I enjoy flying and driving to different places and spending the nights in random hotels in random places.  And, if my funds and time were unlimited, I don't think I would ever spend more than a few nights in a row at home.  Perhaps I would tire of unlimited travel eventually, but I think it would take about forty years.

Regardless, I have embarked on the path of an actual grown-up these past couple of years and am not willing to spend money I don't have on a vacation.  According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, the average American family spends about $1,415 for a week's vacation.  When I think about our past vacations, that's probably a pretty accurate figure.  I'd like to spend about a THIRD of that this year. Ideally, I'd like to spend about a TENTH of that but gas alone is going to blow that idea.  I didn't save money specifically for vacation this year...and I'm living my life on a budget without overspending (which is a novel concept in my life and one that frustrates me greatly on a regular basis).  I loathe the idea that I have to factor in expenses in planning a vacation but it's a cold reality.  Being a REAL grown-up SUCKS.

Thing 1, Thing 2 and I on a Great Adventure

I did say "planning" a vacation, right?   Yeah, I don't really know about all that.  I'm kind of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda girl.  I had a big "plan" for today's great adventure. I was going to drive them up to the Dan River and get a few inner tubes and have a lazy river float today complete with a succulent picnic lunch on a riverbank.  I woke up to the sound of a delicious rain and cloudy skies.  Hmm.  Guess we'll go indoors today.  Somewhere.  I'll have to think about it...

I'm convinced this year's staycation will be a valuable experience for the hoodlums.  They'll learn a few things on their summer vacation with mom this year:

1. You don't have to go far to have fun.  There will be days (perhaps today) when we stay in town and do things like go to TWO movies in a row.  Or we'll have Family Games at the kitchen table with popcorn and ice cream.  Or we'll just go amble along some of the many beautiful walking paths in our town we've never bothered to explore.  Life is a Great Adventure...every day...no matter where you end up.
2. Our vacation will fit into a budget.  Just because I WANT to fly to Europe and have a Grand Euuropean Adventure doesn't mean I can afford to do it.  The reality of life is that you have to fit your adventures into your wallet.  It's not a lesson I enjoy and it's not a lesson I love to teach on VACATION.  But it's a valuable lesson for kids.  They KNOW I love to go (just go).  And they know that traveling is something I WANT.  But, there is a greater lesson to them in letting them know that I can adjust my wants to fit within my means.  Sure, I still have dreams of an amazing cross-country adventure (that I've decided I will begin saving for...TODAY!) with Thing 1 and Thing 2.  But, for now, I am going to play out our dreams on a smaller scale.  Sometimes, kids, you can't always get what you want.  But you can STILL have fun doing it.  
3. What I want MOST is to spend time as a family.  I adore my kids.  And they're growing into young adults before my very eyes.  They're developing their own personalities and becoming people that I enjoy being around.  This staycation is just another opportunity to be with these new people I'm ushering into adulthood.  In the end?  It doesn't really matter if, where or when we go.  The thing that matters is that I get the pleasure of their company.  (Talk to me in a week when I've been around them 24-7 for seven days.)

It's a staycation.  The Great Kelly Family Staycation of 2013.  But it's STILL a Great Adventure.  These things are fun and fun is good, as sayeth the wise and good Theodore Geiss.

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Mach 2, Hair on Fire

“I get up and pace the room, as if I can leave my guilt behind me. But it tracks me as I walk, an ugly shadow made by myself.”
                                                                    ― Rosamund Lupton, Sister

Lazy days of summer?  As IF.  Let's stick with CRAZY days of summer.  In order to assuage my divorced/single parent/working mom guilt, I decided to sign each of my kids up for the PERFECT camp this week to suit each of their tiny personalities.  I decided to forego the traditional one-size-fits-all-drop-your-kids-off-at-7:30-pick-'em-up-at-6 camp and I created a specialized learning opportunity for them.  Baseball camp for Thing 2.  Sumo-Bot Lego Camp for Thing 1. It was more expensive.  And it has almost KILLED me this week.  Only one more day to go.  

Daily schedule for the First Week of Summer

5:30 a.m.  Wake up.  Feed animals.  Make coffee.  Stretch.  Pray (fervently).  Write.

6:45 a.m.  Shower.  Drink coffee.  Wake hoodlums. Make lunches.  Do various and sundry activities around the house.

8:25 a.m.  Leave house.  Thing 2 dropped at jock camp.  Race to second location. Thing 1 dropped at nerd camp.  Fight stoplights and traffic to get to work. Late. 

9:15 a.m.  Work frantically for two + hours.

11:30 a.m. Leave to go pick up Thing 1. Drop him off at house to fend for himself for lunch. 

12:30 p.m. Back at desk.  Late. Work frantically.

2:45 p.m.  Leave to go pick up Thing 2. Race to pick up location. Late. 

3:30 p.m.  Back at desk.  Late. Work frantically.

6:00 p.m. Home.  Make dinner.  Try to clear clutter.  Clean floors.  Wash dishes, clothes, dogs, boys. Encourage reading.  Ban technology. Write.  Thankfully, gratefully sink into bed before 10 pm.

On Friday, I get to go to the Natural Science Center to watch Thing 1's robot compete in the sumo-bot tournament.  I AM actually invited to the tournament and I think he's fairly proud of his efforts.  I never EVER turn down any invite issued by Thing 1.  But it's at 11:00 a.m.  Which means MORE time away from work (and I'm already feeling super guilty about coming in an hour late and missing an extra hour of work during the day).  I guess next week I'll chip away at THAT guilt by coming in early and working longer hours.

I feel guilty all the time.  I feel guilty because I truly DO believe that parents educate their children best and I am not around nearly enough to do so.  I feel guilty because I divorced their father.  I feel guilty because I don't WANT to be with my kids 24/7.  I feel guilty because I can't afford to buy away my guilt with expensive technology for them.  I feel guilty that I cancelled cable.  I feel guilty that I am too often satisfied with mediocrity.  I feel guilty that I can't give them every THING they want.  I feel guilty that I don't WANT to give them every THING they want.  I feel guilty about feeling guilty.
So, I over planned for summer camp this week to ease the pain of ALL that heavy guilt.  And I have been nuts over it.

As I write about all this guilt and I think two things: 1) it sucks to feel guilty all the time and 2) GIVE YOURSELF A FREAKIN' BREAK.

You know what?  It's time that all single moms, married moms, moms who work outside of the home AND inside of the home, moms who cook and moms who don't...it's time that we stop feeling guilty and give ourselves a BREAK.  I will make one exception:  crackhead moms and all moms addicted to anything...YOU need to feel guilty.  Stop the rock, get yourselves some help and take care of your kids instead of your addictions.   I wonder if any addicted moms read this blog? Welcome to my stream of consciousness blogging....

Seriously, life in this breakneck world is tough enough.  Why do we pile on guilt on top of everything else?  Let's just make a pact.  Right here and right now.  Let's say enough with the guilt.  We'll do what we can do.  We'll put one foot in front of the other and try to just keep walking.  Non-burdened walking because it will be guilt-free.

Is it even POSSIBLE to live a guilt-free life as a mother?  As a human being?  Do DADS feel guilt the way we do?  Are kid-free people riddled with guilt over things?  Is guilt just part of the package? Thoughts?

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I'm Now in the Business of Arranging Marriages

“It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

A fellow mom friend and I have decided to arrange the union of our offspring.  My (very funny and extremely fabulous) friend and I think that her eldest daughter and my youngest son would make a great match.  (Note:  My Fab Friend gave me permission to blog about her so...I'm totally running with it.)

My little Work in Progress

Her daughter is amazing.  She's gorgeous and smart and funny and she won more awards in the 5th grade graduation than any other fifth grader.  I think they were still calling out awards after she'd walked across the stage and sat down.  My Fab Friend and I think that Thing 2 and Gorgeous Girl would make pretty, smart babies and so we've set out to wed them when they've sown their hopefully-not-so-wild oats and established themselves in their careers.  Maybe just after they turn 30.

That's not so weird, right?  I mean, we KNOW what's good for our kids.  And, Gorgeous Girl is completely wonderful already and we all know that girls like to change people so she would accept Thing 2 as a work in progress graciously, I feel sure of it.  Besides, her mom and I would TOTALLY get along as in-laws and would surely throw an incredible wedding that WE would certainly enjoy.  After that, they're on their own.  After all, we did the HARD work and picked their mates for them.  Duh.

There are plenty of good reasons to arrange the marriages for our children:

• 50% of marriages end in divorce anyway, so obviously it's a crap-shoot from the start.
• We can already see that their genetic make-up would blend very nicely.  Who needs judgment clouded by silly things like love?
• They're friends already.  In about 15 years, they'll realize that being friends is really important in marriages anyway.
• If they get married, I know I'll always have access to my Fab Friend's makeup bag.  (That statement is FAR funnier than you know.)
• If we arrange the marriage, we probably already LIKE our future daughter- or son-in-law.  That's a huge bonus in my book because most people drive me nuts.
• We are assured that they'll always return home for holidays because their parents live within 10 miles of each other. 

 We haven't yet starting planning the nuptial celebration but we've planted the seed in our offsprings' minds.  Neither of them seemed particularly perturbed by the idea.  Granted, I imagine they both consider their mothers about half nuts anyway so they probably think we'll move on to some other hare-brained scheme before long.

They'll spend middle school years apart.  We'll plot the high school reunion meeting later.  I can picture it now....their eyes will meet across the crowded gym floor with the thumping lyrics of "If You Leave" playing in the background.  She will shyly glance at the floor while he makes his way over to ask her to dance....or maybe that's a Molly Ringwald movie I'm thinking of.

Regardless, it's nice to know that the future of one of my children is settled.  Phew.  That was WAY easier than I'd imagined.  Now, to work on Thing 1....

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An Open Letter to My Sons' Future Roommates, Significant Others and/or Spouses

“Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.”
                                                        ― Benjamin Franklin

Dear Future Loved Ones,

First of all, you HAVE to know that there is only so much a mother can do.  People are just...wired...the way they come.  I've learned that genetics has a huge role to play, so you might want to look at their grandparents.  Or even their great grandparents.  The blame does rest somewhere, but hopefully, it doesn't rest with me.

You may not believe this, but before Thing 1 was born, I was determined to parent intentionally.  I decided that I would read the books and do the research and be fully involved in raising human beings who were nice.  And fairly normal.  And equipped to deal with life's trials.  I wanted them to be people that YOU could live with and maybe even ENJOY living with.  So, I set out to parent them with my own limited skill set and negligible natural nurturing ability.

This weekend, we went over the magical uses of bleach in cleaning.  If they are trying to tell you that they don't know HOW to scrub a toilet, please hand them a clean soft cloth and point them in the direction of the bathroom.  They know how.  They've done a LOT of toilet scrubbing even if they won't admit it.

But there are other things I'm teaching them, too.  And, believe it or not, I do much of this with YOU in mind, Future Loved Ones.  See, I don't want you to hate me.  I really just want you to give me the Gold Star of Parenting.  Can you do that, Future Loved One?  I really just want you to LIKE ME.

So, here are a few of the things I'm doing now with you in mind (you can thank me later or at least ensure that I wind up in a nursing home without the really LARGE cockroaches):

1. I teach them about conflict.  We discuss that you simply can't have relationships...ANY relationships...without conflict.  AND, conflict is resolved through intentional communication.  We use feeling words in my house.  For example, "I felt annoyed when you sat on my head while I was playing that video game."  We discuss our actions.  "I sat on your head because...well...it was THERE."  And we discuss the resolution. "I wanted to hit you when you sat on my head, but instead, I discussed my feelings with you.  I'd appreciate it if you never again sit on my head."  Naturally, sometimes I arrive in the middle of a conflict when fists are already flying, but I pull them apart and we go over the communication thing again.  
2. I teach them about kindness and caring.  We don't kill bugs in my house.  (OK, we DO kill those tiny little microscopic ants that seem to invade the house every spring...but I simply can't count those things as living creatures.)  We trap spiders and take them outdoors.  We try to rescue the animals that our homicidal cat, Charlie, brings in through the cat door.  We respect all creatures, great and small.  If you ask one of my kids to kill a bug, they will get a water glass instead to escort the bug out of doors.  Especially if it's Waterford glass (that's totally an inside joke that I'm not going to explain here...lends an air of mystery, doesn't it?) 
3. I teach them about relationships.  Everything they learn NOT to do, they learn from me.  Their mother is a complete disaster when it comes to relationships...ALL relationships..so they've learned what NOT to do from the master.  Besides, we also have episodes of the Gilmore Girls playing continually in the background.  If you can't learn how to treat people from 42 minutes of a television dramedy, then you simply aren't paying attention.
4. I teach them about life's little frustrations.  You cannot grow up with me as a mother without experiencing a myriad of hiccups and bumps along the way.  I am, to put it mildly, a maddening human being.  They've grown up with me.  They fully expect people to break out into song and/or dance and to call them anything but their own names (e.g., Frito Lay, Thing 1, Thing 2, Dr. Pepper, Tinky-Winkys, Monkeys, Pepsi, Chirruns, etc.).  If they can live with me, they can live with ANYONE. 
5. I teach them that, above all, coffee is the most important thing in life.  You probably think I'm joking.  I'm not. Thing 1 is going to be a fabulous coffee drinker.  He won't be the "bring you coffee in bed" type because he's in a veritable coma in the morning.  But he will appreciate it when YOU bring HIM coffee in bed.  Thing 2 is going to be the "make you breakfast and bring you coffee in bed" type.  You're welcome.

Future Loved Ones, I know that my kids are easy to love.  They're cute and smart and funny.  They have quirks, yes, but I think they're good human beings.  They've been recycling I don't even know how long.  And deforestation drives them nuts.  They are usually kind but they enjoy America's Funniest Home videos tremendously so they obviously have a little bit of edge to them.

Be nice to my hoodlums, Future Loved Ones.  Their tiny little hearts were broken by divorce and I'm sure that's going to come into play.  Just remember that those wounds CAN heal with time and patience.  We're doing the best we can to keep them whole and feeling secure.   They might be scared of commitment or they may even believe it isn't possible...but I know that, if you're really RIGHT for each other, you can make things work.

Try to overlook me, if you can.  I am impossible to get along with and as long as you understand that from the beginning, we'll work through things.  I'll keep my nose out of your business and offer advice and my company only when asked.  I do look forward to meeting you someday.

Until then, Future Loved Ones, guard your own hearts.  Keep yourselves safe and as unwounded as possible.  Life scars us all, I understand, but I hope that your scars will be only on the surface and few and far between.  Regardless of your scars and your quirks, though, we will love you the best way we know how.  As a matter of fact, we love you already.  

With much love,
Your future Second (or Third or Fourth) Mother

Behaviors I Simply Can't Control

“It is impossible to understand addiction without asking what relief the addict finds, or hopes to find, in the drug or the addictive behaviour.”
― Gabor Maté

I am sitting in Nirvana.  Mecca.  I have found the Holy Grail.  I am living the Ultimate Dream.  I am surrounded by riches untold.  Imagine, for an instant, your Personal Happy Place.  Close your eyes and just be there for a moment.  What does it smell like?  What sounds come to mind?  Doesn't it feel so good to go there for only a second just in your mind?  I am THERE.  Right now. 

My Happy Place is a bookstore.  I know that some edgier, far more earth-aware and community-friendly people prefer the independent bookstores run by bespectacled women in Birkenstocks who smell ever so slightly of earth and flowers.  But I am talking about the BIG BOX CHAIN of Barnes & Noble.  You hipsters will be thrilled to know that the origins of B&N were not unlike those corner book shops you favor currently.  It was started in the 1960's by the company's current chairman, Leonard Riggio.  He was an employee at the New York University bookstore while he attended school and decided he totally had the bookselling number.  He opened up a store in Greenwich Village with a small investment and a fairly plain name (his gift did not lie in naming): The Student Book Exchange (SBX).  He was pretty good at it.  By the 1970's he had six more stores.  He was really good at all of that, too, and managed to acquire a flagship bookstore on Manhattan's Fifth Avenue with the name of, you guessed it, Barnes & Noble.  Today, Barnes & Noble has morphed into the bookstore and internet sales mecca you know and love.  It's a Fortune 500 company with almost 700 stores nationwide not to mention one of the biggest e-commerce sites on the 'net.  And it's MY Happy Place.

All of that, believe it or not, is an aside.  I have a tendency to get curious about things and look them up immediately.  Since this is my blog, I get to share all of the information (or at least tasty tidbits) I learn.  My children are accustomed to this and are never surprised when, in the middle of an evening dinner discussion, I leap up and say "We HAVE to learn more about this!" and the Google-fest begins.

So, I walked into the B&N tonight with a smile on my face and my ever-present Nook tucked into my purse.  One of my FAVORITE things about the Nook (over the Kindle competitor) is that I get to go into any B&N store any time I want and read books...for free.  With Starbucks.  (Did I mention the word "nirvana?")  At the sight of ALL THESE books, though, my eyes glaze over and I begin to actually moan in my mind (although, admittedly, I think I moan out loud sometimes during these bookstore adventures).  "Oooh, I want to read THAT!"  "Oh, I had no IDEA he had a new book out.  Where have I been?"  "THAT looks interesting."

The displays beckon an addict like me:  New in Paperback!  New Arrivals!  For Grads!  Noteworthy Selections!  Must Reads!  Classic Favorites!  Everywhere I look there is something new to see.  I do have to admit feeling a little smug, though, when I stopped at the Noteworthy Selections display and realized that I had read about 75% of their choice tidbits.

As much as I love (love, adore...I mean, REALLY LOVE) my Nook, I do admit that I miss actual books sometimes.  The Nook satisfies my need for instant gratification (I can have ANY BOOK I WANT RIGHT NOW!) and the light and adjustable font size really have done wonders during my marathon reading sessions (I can read HOURS longer without tiring on the Nook which is great for my eyes and TERRIBLE for dealing with my cluttered house).  But books!  Oh, I just spent a good 20 minutes wandering around stroking (LITERALLY STROKING) book covers and even opening a book wide to stuff my nose into the middle of it (sorry to whoever buys that copy of Khaled Hosseini's And the Mountains Echoed...I couldn't HELP IT).  I will STILL stop by the Bargain Books section on my way out because I simply cannot resist a hardback with a price tag of under $7.

I am in my Happy Place.  And I have Starbucks.  And I can read a little taste of And the Mountains Echoed while I'm here.

Addictive behaviors CAN be fun...

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