To My Friend...

We met for the first time at a street fair, and were immediately friends. We spent weekends shopping and lunching, mornings walking the town, and evenings sipping wine. We never had to think about what to say; we were comfortable, honest, and genuine. It was the best friendship since those of my childhood.

I don’t know exactly when it changed. Maybe when I went back to work, and was less available. Maybe when our children didn’t click as well as we did. Little issues started making tiny dents in our ability to connect. But still, we were strong. We met in the early mornings to walk, we snatched extra sale items from Target to share, and we helped decorate each other’s houses. We discussed colors and textures and accessories. We met up for garage sales, had cook-outs and swim dates and long phone conversations. We celebrated birthdays with trips to the City and favorite lunches and beautifully wrapped packages. It was easy to pick out perfect presents because we knew each other so well. OK, so you were better at presents, definitely.

More changes came. Tensions at school took a toll. Competitions and comparisons entered the relationship, changing our friendship. Plans were made, but not kept. Plans were made, but changed. Plans were made, but others were there too. It was just different now. We walked once in a while, with more quiet between us. We agreed to disagree. We became more separate, but we still cared. We continued to talk, but were less available to each other. We shopped and lunched with different people, walked with different friends, judged more harshly. I missed you!

We met on your porch and apologized and hugged and asked to start again. We agreed that we’d grown too far apart. You shared of a health scare. I was sad. I wondered why I didn’t already know. We planned to meet on Thursday mornings at the bagel shop, to keep in touch and rekindle our friendship, but it only lasted one meeting. It was the first time that I considered that the value of our friendship might not be equal. It was a life lesson for me, one that I continue to consider.

I look back and only see the good times. I don’t remember all the bumps and bruises and uphill stretches. I see our friendship as it was initially; comfortable, honest and genuine, still the best since those of my childhood. May only good things come to you, my friend.

Margaret

What Makes You Tick?

When my first daughter was born 17 (almost 18) years ago, I imagined that she would be bald (like me) fair-skinned (like me) and loud and demanding (Ok, again, like me). I guess I should have accounted for the fact that half her chromosomes belonged to my darling husband, but still, I was completely shocked when a dark-skinned, black-haired (I couldn’t even see her scalp!) baby entered this world. I was surprised, I was in awe, and I was in love with this little creature who was nothing like I thought she would be. And, in that moment, I learned that she was her own person. On day one, I understood that it was my job to love her and nurture her and help her grow into herself, to help her figure out what makes her tick, and then help her become successful doing that. I needed to support who she would become.

But, it really isn’t that simple….

I’m a parent to four, very different, kiddos. Each has a different hair color, a different body build, a different demeanor, a different personality, and different interests. Seriously, sometimes people don’t believe they all came from the same gene pool (they did!). Three of them have followed their parents lead, willingly participating in sports, studies, chores, routines…etc. They listen without talking back (too much), and tell us EVERYTHING happening in their lives. One of them doesn’t tick that way. One of them pushes a little more, challenges a little more, asks more questions and wants more answers. One of them takes a stand that’s different from the rest. That one is a little more work, a little less “easy”, but very passionate. I like the fight that kiddo has. I know that one will be successful; and I also know that that success might be measured by a completely different stick than the one I would use.

And, isn’t that wonderful?

We each view the world through our own set of eyes. Some of us see fun, adventure, challenge, success, all things good. Other’s see fear, judgment, insecurity, failure, all things unsure. And, as parents, we have to nurture each of our children in a way that will help them view the world more comfortably for them…even if they never see things the way we see them.

Margaret

Sum-Sum-Summertime?

Ahhh, summertime! Those special days that begin as soon as school ends and lasts until it begins again. Days made for sleeping in, chilling out, and hanging at the pool. Perfect for jamming to music, watching movies, and soaking up the sun. Relaxation! Summer was my break from the world, a few great weeks when I didn’t have to stress about homework, clicks, or deadlines. It was great!

Well my friends, summertime has changed. The whole first week of summer this year, my 11 year old, Max, was in the gym earlier than he had been for school the previous year. And while Max dribbled and passed the basketball at basektball camp, my 15 year old, Jack, passed and kicked the football at football camp. My 13 year old, Madeline, started a half hour before her brothers with MAYB basketball practice at 7:30am, and then headed to her school team’s camp at 9:00am…seriously! And we’re just getting started! We have weights and conditioning at 7:00am four days a week starting this week and lasting through the middle of July, and volleyball camp and dance camp and...etc.

And I understand it. I know that Coaches are trying to build programs, trying to see what kids are interested and who will put forth the extra effort to attend. It’s important to build team unity and to begin to teach team concepts and plays as early as possible. And those coaches want to keep up with each other, each wanting high attendance and commitment to “their” sport. I also know that some kids are trying out new sports and activities and parents are looking for ways to keep their kids busy…yada yada yada…it’s just gotten to be too much!

Between camps and practices and games and jobs, kids don’t get to enjoy summers like they used to. And I think kids, especially these days, need time away from sports and activities for a few weeks to rest and recharge their bodies. It would be perfect if coaches all agreed to schedule NOTHING for at least three weeks after school ends to give all of us a break and a chance to actually enjoy a little bit of summer.

Margaret

On Mothering...

In my earliest days of motherhood, I remember thinking “my mom once did ALL of this for me”. In those early moments, I learned that I was completely misguided about being a mother. I mean, I knew a lot, I read the books, I researched, I talked to other moms, but no one told me REAL things. No one shared that I would hurt for weeks “down there”, or bleed forever. No one shared that my baby would cry for absolutely no reason and that I would cry too. No one let-it-slip that it was so.much.work. Again, I knew it, but I didn’t KNOW it. I was not prepared for the sleeplessness, the messiness, and the schedules. I was not ready for all the crying, all the puking, and all the poop! I worked continuously and my house was still dirty, my dishes were piled, and my laundry was out of control. I think, eventually, I managed well, and figured out some great systems, but it was rough at first. So, I was kind of surprised when I thought about my mom doing ALL THAT STUFF for me.

Of course she did it, happily, she’s a wonderful woman. I think it was such a profound thought to me because that wasn’t the mom I remembered. I have no recollection of the woman who snuggled with me in the middle of the night, warmed my bottle at 3am, and placed her hand on my back to make sure I was still breathing. I don’t remember the mom who sat in a rocking chair singing and soothing her newest little baby. I don’t remember the mom who walked miles around the house with a frustrated infant, who changed my clothes ”just-in-case” I was uncomfortable, or who worried about colic, nursing, or SIDS. I know her now, but I don’t remember that part of her mothering. And, it makes me a little sad that my children won’t remember that part of my mothering either. It’s such a sweet time! They’ll have no idea how much I did for them, how much I loved them, how much I cherished them, and was in awe of them…until they bring home their first little fresh baby bundle!

I have great memories of my mom, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that the mom I remember helped me with my science project, ironed my uniform, and packed my lunch every morning. She took me to Blue Bird meetings, signed me up for camp, and made me practice piano. The mom I remember drove me to movies and friend’s houses. She baked cookies late at night because I forgot to tell her I needed them, she bought me the dress I wanted, instead of the one she could afford. She questioned me, grounded me, and listened to me complain. She said “no”, a lot! She worked hard for me, but it was the tough part that I remember most; instead of that cuddly part when I was innocent and sickeningly sweet.

It’s too bad that babies don’t remember all that is done for them in their earliest years, because if they really understood all it takes to be their mothers, they would be THE BEST TEENAGERS EVER! So, with that in mind, I’m starting now to tell my kids every story I can remember about them as babies. I might even make some stuff up, to really make me out to be special. Hey, whatever it takes!

Margaret

Noisily Noted

Maybe it’s because I’m a speech language pathologist and am trained to listen to sounds; maybe it’s because I’m completely unable to simply relax and enjoy life, maybe it’s because I’m anal-retentive, I don’t know, maybe it’s just who I am…but for whatever reason, I notice and focus on noises. I’ve had to move seats in a movie theater because of loud popcorn-eating. And, I get frustrated with movie-whispering. But, it goes deeper than that…I’m also bothered by obnoxious gum-chewing, drink-slurping, food-smacking, chair-kicking, nose-whistling, loud-breathing, pen-tapping, tongue-clicking, and a variety of other noise-related behaviors. I know it’s picky, but I can’t help it.

So, what do I do when I’m focused on a sound that I can’t just ignore like most of the rest of the people in the universe? I say something, and often offend people. I understand that most of the time the offender doesn’t even know they are doing anything. I feel badly when I ask my kids to stop doing whatever they don’t know they are doing. I really feel badly for my poor husband who is wired to move and make noise. I think he’s pretty much trying not to do whatever he’d naturally do so he won’t bother me. I can tell that he is making an effort (thanks honey!), but people can’t really control what they don’t know they’re doing!

I don’t know if I’ve always been this way, but I think I have. I remember asking my dad to move his rocking chair when it was at a squeaky spot on the floor, and to quit moving his legs back and forth because the sound of his jeans rubbing against the chair bugged me. And, I hated the sound of a fork hitting the plate when it stabbed green beans or salad. I know, weird, huh?

I think it’s also important to mention that people aren’t the only sources of frustration in my noisy world – my house has me on-edge too. I live in a house with thin walls. Lying in bed at night, I can hear the heat turn on and off, the washing machine change cycles, the toilet flushing and running (I need to get that fixed), the dishwasher arm clanking against a plate, a tree limb brushing against the window, and my daughter’s music playing on 4 (she sleeps with it on). I hear the garage door open and close, my son talking in his sleep, and a clicking in the ductwork that I have yet to figure out. Once I hear a sound, I have a lot of trouble tuning it out.

So, why am I telling you this? Because each of us has something that we consciously or unconsciously focus on that we may or may not be able to control. For me it's noise, for you it may be food, or exercise, or gambling. You may be focused on shopping, drinking, video games, or germs. Maybe there is nothing right now that leads you away from what's important, but at some point, something will. We can't always control what our brains are thinking, and solutions are tough to come by. A fan helped me, what will help you?

Margaret

Live Your Legacy

If you could go on a vacation to the destination of your choice and have the time of your life there, would you go? What if you knew that afterward you would remember nothing about it, would you still go? I answered “sure” to the first question but a quick, definite “not-a-chance” to the second. Why would you take a vacation if you’d have no memory of it? Isn’t life about the memories? Already I find myself talking about things that happened when the kids were little, when Mike and I were first married, when I was in college…etc. When I get together with extended family, we talk about the year it snowed 12 inches or the time the turkey burned. If there were no memories, what would matter?

Do you ever think about your legacy? What will people remember about you when you’re gone? What moments will come to mind, and what will be remembered about those moments? It really doesn’t matter what we do, it’s the memory of what we do that matters. What we think we offer the world is not necessarily what the world will remember about us. I know this because I did an experiment with my children. I asked them what they will remember about their dad when he happens to die (I know…a bit gruesome, but worthwhile) and they spewed out a whole bunch of great memories; some I’d even forgotten until they started talking. He always honked the horn when the kids walked in front of the car; he would start singing a song, expecting the kids to join in…etc. We laughed and interrupted each other and talked and were goofy for a long time. All the memories were good ones and there were plenty of them.

Then I asked what they would remember about me. That was a tougher question. There were some funny, happy memories that quickly surfaced, but it was a more quiet exchange… It seems that their dad is the “fun” one, the “silly” one and I am the “clean” one, the “can I go?” one. I’m the parent who makes and enforces the rules. At first I was kind of hurt that they didn’t remember all the things I remembered, but after some dwelling, I realize that parents have to balance each other, and that my role is a good one. My kids come to me with their homework, they tell me about their friends, their relationships, their lives. We discuss saving money, being honest, working hard, making good choices, making tough choices…it isn’t all fun, but we connect on a deep, genuine level. It’s not what I would think my kids would remember about me, but I’m completely OK with it, even proud of it. Some parent’s don’t have the trust and faith of their children, and I do. And, I’m happy I know what they think, so I can throw some “crazy” in the mix.

Today you’re living your memories…make sure they’re good ones!

Margaret

Mid-Life Crisis??

I’m sorry I haven’t written for such a long time…I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately. I don’t know if I can clearly explain it, but I’ve been dwelling, asking, explaining, reliving, believing, learning, and finally, accepting who I am and how I came to think and act as I do. I’ve always been a late bloomer, and it’s taken all of my 43 years to actually process and understand myself, and my interactions with others. For a while I thought I was having a mid-life crisis, but I’ve come to realize that I’ve simply been in a deep state of introspection (thank you friend).

It’s been an interesting process. I’ve gained new insights from events that occurred as far back as junior-high school. I actually liked junior-high; I didn’t really internalize all the crap that happened, until I watched my daughters tread through, bringing memories alongside. And that, my friends, opened the floodgates to a rush of confusion. Statements that were initially processed as “odd” or “what?” suddenly surfaced as “rude” or “downright mean”. I’d always had a very confident, positive self-concept, and that has been seriously shaken over the past several years both by recent interactions as well as past revelations. I find it sad, and refreshing, if that even make sense.

For now, I have come to peace with myself and, more challenging, with how others view me. I understand, clearly, that someone will always be talking behind my back, questioning my views, criticizing my accomplishments (or those of my children), critiquing my parenting, judging my actions, pulling me down…etc. I honestly had never really understood that before. I took everything at face value. I guess my parents did a fantastic job of sheltering me, and raising me to believe that everyone is honest and good and forthright. I don’t think that I will ever be as happy as I was, well, at least not as free, but I do feel good knowing that I’m finally on the same page as everybody else.

I’m learning how to ignore the negative vibes, hold my head high, trust myself, and concentrate on living the life I’m intended to live. Others can pull me down, but I’ll decide whether or not they’ll make me fall!

Margaret