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. 

25 Things I Learned Camping Across the Country

“No man needs a vacation so much as the man who has just had one.”
― Elbert Hubbard

The Four of Us at Mesa Verde National Park's Cliff Palace

The Husband, The Things and I have logged just over 5,000 miles together on the road for our Great American Family Road Trip, or, as The Husband named it prior to our Great Adventure, the PTSD (Patterson Tilyard Southwest Debacle).  Admittedly, I was a wee bit nervous prior to our travels.  We’re a newly forged family and I’m not always sure how the Things are going to take my Alpha Male husband.  To my great relief, we’ve made it all the way across the country and back and I think the boys have a firmer understanding of who their new stepfather is and are even able to joke around with (at?) him. 

Completely exhausted from the last year in which we have prepped a house for sale, sold the house, built an addition, moved our families in together, we opted for this Great Adventure many months ago.  We packed our things, loaded up the trunk and camper and we left the Eldest Daughter in charge at the homestead, keeping watch over our faithful hounds.  The two youngest Things came with us, mainly because they, unlike their fully grown step-siblings, simply don’t have a choice in the matter.  “We’re going and you’re going to have fun, dammit.”

We’ve missed our other children and our puppies tremendously along the journey but I’m so thankful we’ve had this Great Adventure together and for the things we’ve learned along the way.

1.     The boys have three food groups.  The Husband likes to cook.  He likes to cook things people like to eat.  He has finally determined that the Things have three favorite food groups:  bread, meat and sugar.  At almost every meal, he assessed whether they had at least two of their food groups and would announce that since they had bread and meat or bread and sugar or, in the case of pancakes and bacon one morning, bread, meat AND sugar, they should be satisfied.  He is working on adding vegetables to their required food group list.

2.     The Kum & Go convenience store makes teenage boys smirk.

3.     It’s good to have an itinerary.  The Husband is a Planner.  He is, in fact, the ULTIMATE planner.  This seems to be a great comfort to Things 1 and 2.  Finally, they have someone who doesn’t say “We’ll just wing it!”  In deference to The Husband’s hard work prior to our adventure and to the Things’ desire to know exactly what is happening each day, I compiled our journey into a handy three-ring binder so they could see how far we planned to travel each day and the things we would be doing (enduring). 

4.     The book IT by Stephen King has some uncomfortable sex scenes (we found that out listening to the audiobook).  Oops.

5.     We can set up and take down camp in record time.  Prior to this Great Adventure, we went through the pop-up camper and streamlined our tools.  We organized everything with efficiency in mind and included only those things we really need.  Yes, a wine tool is something that we really need.  OK, maybe it’s just me who needs it.   At the first site or two, The Husband showed the Things the order of business and, by the last camp site at The Grand Canyon, we were all a well-oiled machine.  The boys grabbed tools before they were asked and everything was put away in the same place every time.  (See number 3…remember how extraordinary The Husband is at planning?)

6.     The restaurant/saloon in Leadville, CO called The Silver Dollar has really terrible service.  Like, terrible.  I wanted to go there because I couldn’t go as a kid (duh, it was a BAR).  During the day, it’s more of a restaurant.  A terrible restaurant.  When I enunciated while giving the (terrible) server my order, the Husband asked if I was using my Colorado accent.  Before I could answer, the (terrible) server answered (she thought he was talking to her). “I’m not even FROM Colorado.  I hate it here. I’m moving.” 

7.     This country is big.  The Husband and I knew that prior to this Great Adventure, having both traveled all over the country.  However, the Things had never experienced THIS long of a road trip.  They saw corn (a lot of corn), desert, mountains, and the wide Mississippi river.  They saw elk up close.  They ran across a bearded lizard on a mesa in Colorado.  They felt the high dry heat of the desert and they stood high on the rim of the Grand Canyon at sunset.  When I was a teenager, I cut out an article from the Reader’s Digest entitled “There is No God?”  The article began with the statements, “There is no God.” It went on to say that the mountains just formed themselves, the animals just arose out of nothing.  It went on like that for a bit and then talked about the glorious beauty of a sunset and how the curves, hard edges and soft, flowing hills are so perfectly aligned against the sky.  It ends with “There is no God?”  I hope that the Things saw the grace and beauty of the earth with an omnipotent presence in mind. 

8.     Museum bathrooms really ARE clean and nice.  We found this out after eating the Maid Rite sandwich at the Mark Twain Dinette in Hannibal, MO.  ‘Nuff said.

9.     I don’t want to live in Nebraska.  Or Oklahoma.  Or Arkansas.  There are probably more states on that list but I guess there’s a reason I moved back to North Carolina.

10.  We can all get along.  As I mentioned, I was a little nervous prior to the trip.  The Husband is a very different parental figure than I am.  But, in almost no time, the two boys had aligned with him to mock me about my rule-following (Hello?  Crosswalks were invented for a reason) or my ridiculous morning-person greetings.  I hope they figure out someday that we went on this Great Adventure for them.  I hope they know how much love he pours into all he does even when he seems all gruff on the outside.

11.  Thing 1 has a new road name:  Trailblazer.  He earned it deciphering maps at Mesa Verde National Park.  Thing 2 is now Two Dogs Hunching.  But that’s just because of the joke.

12.  Satellite radio is a gift.  Even high in the mountains in the middle of nowhere with no cell signal to be found, our Sirius XM worked like a charm.  We listened to blues, classical, hip-hop, pop and, mostly, the Husband’s choice of Classic Rewind or Classic Vinyl. 

13.  There are no (few?) overweight people out west.  They either make better food choices or hike their butts off during the 2 months of summer every year.  This does not make me want milkshakes any less.  Nor does it make me want to move at all in 100-degree heat.

14.  I don’t miss TV.  Period.  Thing 2 has downloaded Mad Men on Netflix (don’t judge me…we’re talking about some of the more questionable things happening on the show) and is watching that during long driving stretches.  But, for the most part, we don’t have TV and don’t miss it. 

15.  You can move past mistakes.  So, SOMEONE left our National Park Pass at home.  I mean, someone PLANNED for it, paid for it and conveniently put it in a folder MONTHS prior to the trip and then someone just went off and FORGOT IT.  (Can you guess who forgot it?  Remember the one of us who is much more likely to just “wing it?”)  I felt bad about forgetting it and thought The Husband was mad (and, still, I think he was, a little) but we worked through the snafu.  I am a huge mess.  Always.  I speak before I think, I fall down, I spill things and I…well…I FORGET things.  We worked through it.  And I guess we will keep working through it. 

16.  There are people who drive with goats inside their personal vehicles.  True story.  We saw it.  And then we made up a goat-song parody to Prince’s When Doves Cry (re-titled When Goats Drive).

17.  Sometimes, lessons in opening and shutting truck doors are required.

18.   Raccoons are little bitches.  With cute hands.  And they try to steal peanut butter.  And they leave paw prints on coolers.

19.  Along the same vein, squirrels will bite.  They will. I have proof from the brochure from the Grand Canyon. And they probably carry diseases.   In fact, squirrels are the only dangerous animal they mention. #Validated.  That didn’t stop anyone from continually making fun of my irrational fear of squirrels.

20.  Camping on top of a mesa is cool.  Best. Campsite. Ever.  You should try it at Colorado National Monument.

21.  Farts are funny.  Always.

22.  A little bit of a schedule is good for me on vacation. A lot of schedule is too much.  This vacay had a perfect amount of schedule. 

23.  A 100% acrylic poncho that makes one resemble Clint Eastwood can be had off I-40 in Texas (or was it Oklahoma?) for about $10. 

24.  Coming home again is sometimes the best and most satisfying reward after a Great Adventure. 

25.  Best. Trip. Ever.  I am thankful…always.

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.

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.

Advice to My Children on Mother's Day

Mothers are all slightly insane.”
― J.D. Salinger

Things 1 and 2 on a Great Camping Adventure

My children often think I am a whack-job.  Trust me, this is not without reason.  They don't operate in a vacuum and they've seen how I live my life with a let's-have-dessert-FIRST mentality.  They are resigned to the fact that I ring the bell while I ride my bright green bike while wearing my purple helmet.  They tolerate the nosy pepper joke that I tell over and over and over again (thanks again, DT, for that one).  But, sometimes, I'm afraid that my words of wisdom just wash over them as yet another piece of nonsense that they have to deal with as my children.

So, today, as a precursor to Mother's Day, I'm going to give them all of my (unsolicited) serious advice on how I hope they'll live their lives.

1. Choose joy.  Joy comes from within.  Feed the joy.  Nourish it and it will spill out of you.  Joy is your CHOICE.  
2. Be kind.  Hold the door open.  Say "please" and "thank you" with abandon.  Give your seat to a stranger.  Focus on doing kind things for other people and you won't have time to dwell on yourself.  
3. Live outwardly.  Offer hugs.  Share your ideas.  Be connected and involved with other people.  People who are connected in their communities, with their friends and in their families live longer, healthier, happier lives.  You can look that up, it's totally true. 
4. Do what you love.  You get one chance at life.  Don't spend every day hating what you do.  Do something that inspires you.  Live your dream...in whatever shape that takes.  
5. Travel.  I don't care if it's to the next town.  Explore the corners of the world that are out of your comfort zone.   
6. Overcome your fears.  We are designed with built-in fears to protect us from doing stupid things.  But I hope you won't ever let fear prevent you from living your best life.  Pursue adventure in all its forms.  Speak up.  Explore. Say "I love you" first.  
7. Forgive.  People will hurt you.  Sometimes they'll do it intentionally. Sometimes they'll do it out of their own pain.  Regardless, forgive them.  It's important that you understand that holding on to all the hurts will harden you. Let them go.  People who hurt are hurting and I don't want you to become a hurting person.
8. Choose a life partner when you're a little older.  You will change.  She will change.  Wait.  Date.  Figure out who you are before you figure out who you want to be with.
9. Share. If you have something, share it.  It may be money or time or the last cookie in the jar.  I promise you that if you share whatever it is that you have, you will have more of it.  
10. Eliminate "should" from your vocabulary.  I have lived too much of my life operating on "shoulds."  Sometimes, the shoulds in your life can hurt you.  Should inspires guilt.  And guilt has no place in your life.  
11. Love one another.  You have this person in your life who really knows you.  Yes, you are markedly different from each other but you have the same shared life.  No one will understand where you come from like your brother.  Brothers love each other.  Try to embrace your differences and celebrate your similarities.
12. Know how much you are loved.  No kidding...I would give my life for either of you.  And I'm not the only one who feels that way about you.  Love is strength.  Cherish it and know that it's there no matter how much you screw up, how far you go, how mad you are or how alone you feel.  You are loved deeply, passionately and without reservation.  Take that knowledge and go out into the world empowered by it.  It's your safety net.

Reach high, boys.  Understand that everyone on this earth makes choices every. single. day.  You can choose to live your best life or you can choose to play video games in a dark room.  You don't have to be like me.  I just hope with all my heart that you'll choose to love your lives and live them fully.

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.

Raising Teenagers: 5 Reasons Why I Like Teens More Than Toddlers

“She had been a teenager once, and she knew that, despite the apparent contradictions, a person's teenage years lasted well into their fifties.”
― Derek Landy

Thing 2 and Thing 1: Busch Gardens 2015

Recently, Things 1 and 2 accompanied me on our Annual Great Spring Break Amusement Park Adventure.  For the past 7 years, we have raced, spun, screamed and catapulted for a day or two at Carowinds, Busch Gardens, Kings Dominion and Six Flags Over Georgia.

It hasn't always been easy.

The first year, Thing 2 couldn't even ride the big rides (even though he desperately wanted to) and Thing 1 couldn't have cared less about the rides or the Great Adventure.  I have wheedled and pleaded and begged these children over the years to embrace the Great Adventure and understand the magic that happens on road trips.  They have steadfastly refused to participate in my reindeer games.  I have been irritated and tired and far more cranky than I should but I have steadfastly refused to give up this tradition I created out of thin air in desperation to give these two kids whose lives I managed to ruin by divorcing their dad (OK, so a few guilt issues there...) a few bright and happy memories of their Part-Time Life with Mom.

This year, it all came together.

Yes, there was eye-rolling.  And irritation.  And boredom.  And it was MAGIC.  I realized this year that my kids have finally become more like...well...me.  They are no longer the short people I can't fathom.  They are eye-level purveyors of wit, sarcasm and barbed zingers who eat when they're hungry, drink when they're thirsty and sleep when they're tired.  Practically adults.

I started thinking about WHY I seem to love them SO MUCH MORE now that they're big kids in adult clothing.

1. They don't need me as much.  I'm just not one of those people who need to be needed.  I prefer that you take care of your own business and leave me to mine.  Every now and again we can meet in the middle to discuss life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  Things 1 and 2 can take care of their own bodily functions.  They can fix a sandwich.  They don't ask me constant questions about why, who, where, what, when that I (mostly) patiently answered when they were toddlers.  
2.  They fight sarcasm with sarcasm.  Admittedly, I started using sarcasm well before these two were probably ready for it.  Sure, I TRIED the syrupy sweetness of parenting when they were younger.  (Fine, I didn't try terribly hard.)  But, as they grew taller, my sarcasm grew stronger.  Now, these two are teaching me a thing or two.  Their sarcasm seems somehow kinder than mine.  So, I'm learning a few gentle techniques to launch barbs and zingers into the crowd.  Thanks, Thing 1 and Thing 2. Grasshoppers, you are ready (sniff...so proud!).
3. They can entertain themselves.  At the end of a long day at the park, I showered and dove into bed with a novel.  We talked a bit but, for the most part, they were content to absorb themselves in their own pursuits so I could happily ignore them to unwrap a few chapters of the book I had been waiting to get back to all day.
4. They are introspective.  While Thing 2 shot ahead, Thing 1 and I were able to stroll leisurely together and talk about what's going on in his life.  I learned a lot in these few magical snippets of conversation.  He's introverted so, trust me, I take every opportunity to let him come to me.  I appreciate so much his point of view on things and his thoughtful consideration of things that I had no idea he was even aware of.   
5. I enjoy their company.  They have their own ideas.  They disagree with me on...well...a LOT of topics.  But I respect those disagreements.  These two are not an extension of me; rather, they are two completely separate and mysterious beings who I (somehow) was blessed with ushering into the world.

Don't get me wrong.  I have attempted to pause and breathe and enjoy every bit of this life I have been given with these two.  I made choices along the way to parent intentionally and to engage with them throughout every stage.  I managed the baby years.  I navigated the toddler years as best I could.  I plugged away during the childhood years.  But, these teenage years?  To me, they are simply awe-inspiring as I watch them take all those building blocks of life and put them together in a way that's entirely different from what I could have ever anticipated or imagined.  They're not who I thought they would be; they are so much more.

The days continue to be long and the years are so very, very short.

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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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How to Be a Mother (or, Things I Learned the Hard Way)

"Mothers are all slightly insane." -JD Salinger

Mothers are not born.  Instead, they are carved in flesh from late nights, worries, struggles with discipline, and fretting every. single. day. over whether they are making the right choices.  Being a mother is the toughest thing I've ever done and, while I won't detail all of that here, I've climbed some pretty high mountains.

I didn't want to be a mother.  Fortunately, my Ex Husband was fairly insistent that he carry on the family name and, since I happened to be married to him, he figured I was the one to do the job. WHAT?

OK, fine.

I became a mother.  And I learned how to breastfeed and change diapers and how to try to soothe a fussy (screaming) baby while not losing my own mind.  He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  I didn't sleep much and I was scared out of my mind most of the time.

I didn't want to screw up this tiny amazing gift.  I didn't want him to ever feel a moment's pain or fear.  I became INTENTIONAL in my treatment of him...the first time I had ever behaved so with another human being.  When I approached him, I never swooped him up without first saying, gently, "I'm going to pick you up now."  Before he could talk, I talked him through our days together.  "In ten minutes, we'll leave the house and I'll take you to the park." I cherished the idea that he was a tiny human being and only in my care for a short time.  I'm sure I probably appeared nuts to strangers but it was so important to me that I honor his SEPARATENESS from me.

I became a mother again.  And I realized that THIS beautiful tiny amazing gift was completely different from the first.  He slept (I didn't realize babies DO THAT!).  He cried and, more important, STOPPED CRYING when he was attended to.  I was distracted by my busy toddler but I contentedly snuggled up with this one and put the housework aside as I PURPOSEFULLY enjoyed each moment of his growth.

Nurturing doesn't come naturally to me.  I'm selfish and irritable and all the things that mothers aren't supposed to be.  But I work hard at it every day.  Really hard.  And I think women should be real with other women.  We should be more courageous in explaining that mothering is tough and that it's not all sunshine and roses and beatific appreciation.

1. There are days when you want to quit.  Those days, for me, came early on.  The days of crying, snot and fevers were tough ones for me.  I have never been a baby person.  They're cute and all but I am never one to volunteer to hold them.  There were so many days when I literally had to breathe deep and not run screaming out the door.  Dealing with beings who communicate through sobs, snuffles and grunts was not my specialty.  But even now that they are getting more fun for me all the time, there are days when I have to grit my teeth to get through dinner.  Some days, I truly just want to be left alone.  When you're a mom, "alone" is the toughest thing to come by.  
2. It's OK to be real in front of your kids.  As moms, we need to show our children our emotions.  If we protect them from the bad stuff we're feeling, then they may be confused about their OWN emotions and question whether or not they're normal if they're mad/sad/confused/hurt.  I intentionally show my children my emotions and then I discuss what I'm going through (not in the "on the therapist's couch" kind of way but in the "I'm having a problem and this is what I'm going to do about it" way).  It's important for kids to watch you work through your own stuff.  I still protect them from some of the nasty, nitty-gritty I've experienced but I let them see the day-to-day struggles and the subsequent strength that comes from them.
3. Understand that they are not tiny versions of you.  Oh, don't get me wrong; I see a LOT of my flaws in my children.  One or the other has my procrastination, my sloppiness, my temper, my drama, and on and on.  And I realize that I've taught them to eat dessert before dinner (hey, life is SHORT!) and I've encouraged them to be still (lazy?) and enjoy the small things in life.  I know that my parenting impacts them in good and bad ways.  But they each need different things from me.  And they don't need the same things I need.  They are not me. 
4. It never gets easier.  Oh, they no longer cry.  But now I deal with different things like the lack of attention to homework.  I get calls from the vice principal at school because one of my kids feels like violence is the answer (when, in reality, it NEVER IS...why won't he get that?).  I struggle with whether or not my introvert feels isolated or if my extrovert is happy.  I wonder if I have ruined them because their father and I divorced.  I worry that they will be sitting on my couch eating Cheetos and playing video games when they're forty.  I want to be sure that they feel happy, safe and secure in the knowledge that they are loved.  
5. Loving them is the best part.  I still look at them in amazement that they came from me.  I would die for them.  I know now what it is to understand beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would take a bullet for someone.  I would..without hesitation.  They're funny, kind and smart young men.  I watch admiringly as they hold doors for people at church.  I was thrilled to come home yesterday and find that they REALLY HAD cleaned the house for me while I was out for a couple of hours.  I adore these kids.  And I'm really glad their dad talked me into having them.  Good call, Ex Husband.  

I am by no means a "wonderful" mother.  Phew, this job is TOUGH.  I read books and magazine articles and I beg other parents to tell me their secrets.  I Google things like "what to do when your kid won't turn in homework." I am rarely patient and I am completely self-absorbed at times.  But I wake up every day vowing to try harder than I did the day before to give these boys what they need to grow to be strong, caring men...the kind of people the world needs more of.   And, so far?  Wonder of wonders, I think it may be working...

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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.

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Coddling Hurts Everyone (Or, How I Realized I Coddle My Sons and the Steps I'm Taking to Fight It)

“I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren't trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom.”
― Umberto Eco

Last night, after dinner, I did something I have never done before:  I left Thing 1 and Thing 2 in the kitchen to clean up while I retired to the living room to read.

I know, I know.  The above doesn't sound like something that should be shocking.  Things 1 and 2 are 13 and 11, respectively, and have been cleaning up (somewhat) after themselves for years.  But I have NEVER EVER left them in the kitchen to clean up BY THEMSELVES after dinner.  I have HELPED them.  I have COACHED them.  I have lingered on, watching while they rinsed each dish and I have showed them how to load the dishwasher.  I have offered to clean the pots and pans and I have gently offered helpful household tips while they have cleaned.  But I have never EVER never ever NEVER left them alone in the kitchen to clean up after dinner.

It. Was. Fabulous.

Did they do it as I would have done it?  No, not really.  Did they do a great job?  Yes.  And no.  Did they complain?  Not once.

The whole affair was entirely shocking.  And, unbeknownst to them, has completely changed the way we do business around the Manor.

In many respects, I am actually a terrible parent.  I sometimes encourage dessert before dinner; I very often choose that we read over chores; instead of shuttling them to lessons or other useful pursuits, I tend to suggest that we have Great Adventures or Laze The Day Away.  And, in so doing, I have coddled them and, I fear, probably ruined them for good.

But, no more!!  The coddling ended last night when I realized that, seemingly overnight, they have become fully capable human beings.  I have to admit that I take the whole Divorced Parent thing a bit too far at times.  Because I am Divorced, I am the only Functional Adult in the household.  And, because it's not THEIR fault that I am Divorced, I tend to DO more things for them than I think I would in a Real Family environment.  (The capitals are all mine and always included in my thoughts.  Welcome to my head.)  I pick up their glasses and plates from the living room.  I do all the cooking and most of the cleaning.  I mow the lawn and pick up the animal feces from the backyard.  I do all the dusting and most of the vacuuming and sweeping.  I do the laundry.  I used to fold it AND put it away but in the last year I've been putting it on their beds for them to put away.

I just feel like since I ruined their lives by getting a divorce, the very LEAST I can do is be their servant for life.

And that's the crux of it.  I do too much because I'm trying to make up for interrupting what MIGHT have been an idyllic childhood by thrusting Divorce into their lives.  Because they have to shuttle back and forth between Mom's house and Dad's house, I try to somehow make up for that pain and inconvenience by letting them skate by with very little effort.

But that's not going to make them very good human beings, is it?

I don't know that I'll EVER be guilt-free about being Divorced.  I don't know that I'll ever truly forgive myself for inflicting that pain on my kids.  At some point, when they're older, I hope they'll understand that being Divorced actually helped their mom Get Healthy.  And I hope they can forgive me.

But, until that day, I think they'll be doing a lot more dishes.

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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.

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I'm Flash

The question isn't 'Who's going to let me?' it's "Who's going to stop me?" --Ayn Rand

Tonight I go to a flash mob rehearsal.  It's my very FIRST flash mob and I'm so ridiculously excited.  Like so many others (yes, people, there are OTHERS like me), I have vivid fantasies of spontaneously breaking into song and dance in the grocery store or the movie theater or even my kids' school with a giant stupid grin on my face.  Since it's my fantasy, I also include everyone AROUND me.  All of us, singing and dancing in perfectly choreographed rhythm down hallways, through streets and then back into real life as if nothing had ever happened.

For those of you who don't know what a flash mob is, the standard definition is "a sudden mass gathering, unanticipated except by participants who communicate electronically."  So, basically, it's a bunch of us nerdy types who email or FB each other and say "Hey, let's do THIS fun thing!" We're the folks who plan surprise parties for introverts who think that being surprised is actual torture.  We're the type of people who have to read the books before we go to see the movie.  We're those nutcases who make fools of ourselves in public and think absolutely nothing of it.

I am the PERFECT flash mob participant.

Some flash mobs are truly amazing and they will make you grin broadly, bring you to tears and make you believe that maybe (just maybe) humanity isn't going to hell in a handbasket, like this one...

Others are not so impressive (like, I fear, the one I'll be participating in).  But they all pull a group of strangers together to do something FUN and unexpected.  It's like opening a gift a friend brought for you EVEN WHEN IT'S NOT YOUR BIRTHDAY.

I showed the practice video to Things 1 and 2 and asked them if they'd like to participate in my upcoming flash mob event.  They watched in horrified silence for a moment or two before they said "Uhhh, no thanks, Mom."  "Yeah, I think I'll sit this one out, but YOU have fun." 

I'm OK if my kids think I'm an uber-nerd.  I'm OK with them watching me participate in weird activities or talk about dreams that may never come true.  I do know this:  my kids will someday look back upon their time with me and, after they've finished shuddering, they will probably have a deluge of memories of my wacky ideas, schemes and activities and they will smile.  And then they will probably do something wacky for their own kids.  And my gift of laughter and fun will live on.

Now, I'm off to practice my dance steps.




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We are Coddlers (or, How We are Not Doing Kids Any Favors)

“We may not be able to prepare the future for our children, but we can at least prepare our children for the future.”
                                             ― Franklin D. Roosevelt

At the risk of sounding like the crotchety old lady I am almost certain to become, I have to say that we have gone too far in the pendulum of parenting.

When I was a kid, we got RIBBONS for Field Day.  There were many field days when I came home with nary a red, blue or green ribbon to boast about.  I received one blue ribbon EVER on field day...for the three-legged race (and, to this day, I have no idea how....perhaps it's because I'm ACCUSTOMED to being someone with two left feet).  There were other kids, the natural athletes, who received FAR more than their "fair share" of ribbons and, boy, did I sometimes envy them.  Look at all those ribbons, I would marvel to myself.  Next year, I'll try harder...and maybe I'll get one of those ribbons for myself!

Now, ALL of our children are winners, right?  They are ALL EXACTLY THE SAME!

WRONG.

They are NOT all winners.  They're not.  Some kids are better at things than others.  Some kids have to work really hard to FIND their natural talents.  EVERYONE SHOULD NOT GET A TROPHY.  (Participation trophies are my pet peeve.) 

We teach our kids that they're great at EVERYTHING.

Newsflash:  they are NOT.  

Just as WE are not good at everything, our children watch us try and fail.  They watch us carefully to see how we handle our own mistakes and our own setbacks.  So why are we teaching THEM that they are so amazing that they won't have setbacks? Why are we teaching them that EVERYTHING they try they deserve a trophy for?

If they're already so good at everything...what are they going to DREAM ABOUT?  What are they going to reach for?  How are they going to learn to strive to achieve if we say to them every single time, "THAT was AMAZING!"?  Are we still going to be telling them that everything they do is amazing when they're still comfortably reclined on our furniture when they're 35 because life with us is so....easy?

Trust me, I am FAR from being a non-coddler.  My kids, like all the rest, do too little for too much reward.  They have too many "things" and they want for so little that they have a difficult time coming up with a wish list for birthdays or holidays.  SERIOUSLY.  They are heavily indulged children...much to my chagrin.  I want their self-esteems to be healthy.  I do.  But they know how much I loathe participation trophies.  And they know that the words "Bonus question" on any test or homework assignment read "Thing 1" or "Thing 2" because I WANT them to go above and beyond.  And I tell them to find things that they enjoy...things that they are passionate about...because they are not going to be good at everything.

If we continue on this parenting road we are on, the future will be bleak (but so very, very EVEN).  I'm telling you.

The World in 2040

• War.  If we (God forbid) have to go to war, our children will drive to the battlefield with ergonomically fitted gear.  From their heated tank seats, they will engage the enemy.  "You are not being nice."  (See?  They are USING THEIR WORDS just like we taught them!  Proud, proud parenting moment!)  And, because even the game of Tag was outlawed at their elementary school (true story), they don't even know how to run away.  BOOM!  Blown to smithereens.
• Business.  We will accompany Jimmy and Susie to their boardroom meetings where we will sit beside them and speak up for them when they are addressed. 
• Random Business Guy:  "Thing 1, the projections for this quarter are dismal."  
• Thing 1: "Well..."
• Doddering Old Mom: "I'm sorry, I don't think he understood that what the company needed was to MAKE MONEY.  He was expressing his creativity and I don't think that profit should impact his life choices."
• Boss:  "You're fired.  You AND your idiot mother." 
• The Office of the President.  OK, there won't be just ONE president anymore because that would signify that one person might be BETTER than everyone else.  We'll have a Presidential Team.  They'll meet to have coffee and doughnuts.  Sugarless doughnuts.  The Presidential Team will decide to do awesome things like make EVERYONE the same color.  Maybe they'll choose a nice shade of green.  No differences means no conflict, right?  Wait in line to get your new shade!  And they'll decide that all of us should have equal amounts of money...JUST like in Monopoly.  Anyone who starts showing initiative and getting ahead will be moved back to the starting position...along with EVERYONE ELSE.
• Neighborhoods.  All existing houses will be removed.  They will be replaced by neighborhoods with perfectly leveled streets that are all EXACTLY the same.  House numbers will be removed because lower (or higher) numbers might indicate differences which could be interpreted positively or negatively.  Homes will include the exact same furniture in the exact same colors so that no one could possibly envy anyone else.  All the green people who live inside will be the exact same gender and sexual orientation combination.  Children will be assigned as necessary when procreation is permitted.  Children will be painted green upon arrival. 
• Food.  The Day New York Banned the Super Size will be heralded as a national holiday.  All portion sizes will be mandated by federal law.  All MEALS will be mandated by law.  Mondays will include chicken, two (approved) vegetables, gluten-free bread and an unflavored water (no ice).  Tuesdays will be vegan days, etc.  Drinking and smoking will be banned.  But pharmaceuticals will be promoted extensively.  Meals will be accompanied by mood regulation pills.  

Do we really want our kids to all be the same?  Do we really not want one kid to stand out?  Do we not want the rest to find their OWN passions?  What are we doing? 

More important, perhaps, is the question:  HOW DO WE STOP?

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