Today amongst Ker Plunk, building a Lincoln Log community and some crafts, my daughters decided to make me a part of their magic show. They weren’t having much luck making their latest Bratz dolls disappear and they needed an easier challenge-me!
So, they covered me with various blankets and pillows from head to toes and explained they were going to make me magically disappear. They asked me where I would like to go. I laughingly replied, “To a remote island with lots of sun, few people and a cabanna boy that can fetch me drinks, food and magazines.” My oldest, trying to take it in, said, “Mom, what’s a cabanna boy?” I smiled and said, “You’ll understand that one when you are a Mom.”
So, with their magic wands, also known as pencils, waving they said their magic words and presto. I was still there-much to their dismay and mine.
With a husband that is often gone, a three and five year old, two cats and a goldfish named John, I often long for the days when I could call in sick. Those were the days-just wearing my fat pants, warm socks while just laying on the couch watching Lifetime uninterrupted except for food and bathroom breaks-for an entire day.
While I treasure being a wife and Mother, I often find myself longing for some peace. Peace from the noise, chaos, demands, chores, errands, request and endless questions that accompany Motherhood. While it is a joy being called “Mom”, it is also exhausting both emotionally, mentally and physically. Every so often, when the stress meter is on high and the energy level is on low, I attempt a time out-for me.
My hair stylist, Mandy, thinks it is quiet funny that when my husband is out of town or working late, that I am actually excited about heading to Friday’s with a stack of magazines to eat and have a drink-alone. Other friends at the Y know that if they can’t find me in the fitness area at the Y – that I am most likely reading the paper in the “decompression chamber” also known as the pool! I also have an hour of daily quiet time at our home. Our daughters may individually read, draw, play quietly or nap –and I do the same.
And during my once a year-self imposed and husband encouraged retreat, my friends inquire if I will be lonely on my 24 hour retreat. I reply with a smile, “No, but I will be alone.”
I love going to this special local inn with a spa, sauntering back to my room with a large stack of magazines, a spa tub and room service---and the quiet room with the comfy bed. (If you haven’t done this, save up and do it! You deserve and need it!)
As they tell you on that airplane, place your own oxygen mask on before doing so for your children. And sometimes, just sometimes, I try to do the same in daily life. I need to take care of me once in awhile, so that I can do my best in taking care of them.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Enthusiasm Over Excuses
Simply put, our five year old daughter just loves a party. So, I should have known that the small thought and discussion of having several friends over for a play date would morph into something much larger. (After all, her Mother once invited the whole college football team to her apartment for a spaghetti dinner when she couldn’t even cook! The room mates were thrilled…So it must be genetic!)
About six weeks ago, she came bounding out of her room with a stack of papers and a huge smile. She informed me that these were the invitations to the “party” and that we had to deliver them to the neighbors that very day. I called several friends in our cul-de-sac and prepared them for her arrival!
While I waited at the end of the drive way, she would eagerly hurry to the next house and the next. Each neighbor would take the pretend invitation, exchange a few words with her and look up at me and wave. When she arrived home, she enthusiastically explained that one neighbor agreed to bring the table cloths, another some steaks and that I was to locate some beautiful pink plates and napkins for the party.
I just knew this party phase would pass, but it hasn’t. She watches the cooking show for ideas, selects specific flowers out of the garden for making table arrangements and peruses the isles of the $1.00 Target isles for gift bag ideas.
She makes party and food lists in her little book while grocery shopping—with me spelling the items out loud for her! (So, if you hear someone spelling cucumber or pecan swirls again loudly in the aisle of a grocery store-it is us! Stop and say hello!) While at the bakery section, she asks lots of questions about the cakes, desserts and cookies in the case. She is quite the party planner!
On her own, she enlisted the help of two of my friends to actually play the harp and flute at this party…and has been practicing on her own harp for the proposed trio. One neighbor has agreed to do hair. She has selected a jewelry kit and face painting for additional entertainment for this girl only event. Oh, and I was strictly informed that both kids and adults would be invited.
I have held her off for weeks with a varied list of excuses-the weather, vacation plans, other’s vacation plans, the two birthday parties we just held and paid for, the time needed for planning and more! She overlooks these excuses and simply continues on with her enthusiasm and her plans. And it has worked. Her enthusiasm won out over my excuses and I am delighted to say we will be having a tea party in July—after the harpist returns from vacation!
Enthusiasm over excuses… It is her secret weapon-and it used to be mine. Before Motherhood, I would simply set my mind to something and forge ahead—while others said I shouldn’t or couldn’t. Such obstacles and objections just heightened my enthusiasm and determination for the goal-big or small. Whether it was buying that first house in my early 20’s, choosing Outward Bound as my summer vacation, running my first marathon
in Dublin at 30 or walking away from a great job to start a consulting business-I shoved aside the should nots and just did it. My enthusiasm for living life to the fullest was far more important than adhering to my fear.
And then I became a Mom. Two daughters later, I am in the midst of the “Mother Duck” syndrome- keeping my girls close, safe and away from harm. “Stay away from that curb.” “Don’t swim too far…” “Stay close. I have to be able to see you.” “Take a jacket just in case…” “Hold my hand…there are cars out there.” “Look both ways-twice.” “Don’t talk to strangers.” “Stay in the shallow end.” “Don’t pedal too far ahead.” “Walk slowly-don’t run.” “Think about it.” “Test the water before you get in.” “Walk, don’t run.”
And somewhere along the way in teaching them to avoid danger and harm…safety Mom is playing it safe too. All of a sudden, it is me hugging the curb of life, being a little fearful of wading out past my knees in that great ocean and testing the waters oh so carefully before I make the plunge.
Lately, I have a business interest that just keeps tugging at my heart. I shared this dream with my husband and he thought it was a great idea. Then, I launched right into all the reasons I shouldn’t do it. He looked at me and asked, “Why are you so afraid of this? Why all these excuses? When I met you, you weren’t afraid of anything.”
My answer stunned even myself. “It might succeed and I am afraid. “
Afraid of success-that’s a new one! “What I really meant to say was “I have this nice, safe, neat, routine and little undisturbed world –and change would be difficult.” It is easier to play it safe-or is it?
As a Mom, I relish the big and small joys of seeing our daughters grow and learn. And – while, I need the comfort and routine of our daily lives, I find myself needing more. I need just a bit of the old daring and enthusiastic me to return once in while. And I need to pursue my dreams both big and small. After all, as the saying goes, “Everyone needs something to do, someone to love and something to hope for.”
So, I pushed safety Mom aside for a rest and have decided to shake things up a bit in my own life. Enthusiasm over excuses…I have decided to embrace change rather then fearing it. I joined a training group at the Y after a year of thinking about it. And the business idea-it’s in the works and I am excited!
My daughters are watching me. Besides being safety Mom, I am their life guide. It is my role to teach them the difference in clinging to the curb to avoid an accident and stepping away from the curb to pursue a dream. As a Mom and their greatest teacher, I have to live the difference. They will become what they see and will dare to dream-if I do.
About six weeks ago, she came bounding out of her room with a stack of papers and a huge smile. She informed me that these were the invitations to the “party” and that we had to deliver them to the neighbors that very day. I called several friends in our cul-de-sac and prepared them for her arrival!
While I waited at the end of the drive way, she would eagerly hurry to the next house and the next. Each neighbor would take the pretend invitation, exchange a few words with her and look up at me and wave. When she arrived home, she enthusiastically explained that one neighbor agreed to bring the table cloths, another some steaks and that I was to locate some beautiful pink plates and napkins for the party.
I just knew this party phase would pass, but it hasn’t. She watches the cooking show for ideas, selects specific flowers out of the garden for making table arrangements and peruses the isles of the $1.00 Target isles for gift bag ideas.
She makes party and food lists in her little book while grocery shopping—with me spelling the items out loud for her! (So, if you hear someone spelling cucumber or pecan swirls again loudly in the aisle of a grocery store-it is us! Stop and say hello!) While at the bakery section, she asks lots of questions about the cakes, desserts and cookies in the case. She is quite the party planner!
On her own, she enlisted the help of two of my friends to actually play the harp and flute at this party…and has been practicing on her own harp for the proposed trio. One neighbor has agreed to do hair. She has selected a jewelry kit and face painting for additional entertainment for this girl only event. Oh, and I was strictly informed that both kids and adults would be invited.
I have held her off for weeks with a varied list of excuses-the weather, vacation plans, other’s vacation plans, the two birthday parties we just held and paid for, the time needed for planning and more! She overlooks these excuses and simply continues on with her enthusiasm and her plans. And it has worked. Her enthusiasm won out over my excuses and I am delighted to say we will be having a tea party in July—after the harpist returns from vacation!
Enthusiasm over excuses… It is her secret weapon-and it used to be mine. Before Motherhood, I would simply set my mind to something and forge ahead—while others said I shouldn’t or couldn’t. Such obstacles and objections just heightened my enthusiasm and determination for the goal-big or small. Whether it was buying that first house in my early 20’s, choosing Outward Bound as my summer vacation, running my first marathon
in Dublin at 30 or walking away from a great job to start a consulting business-I shoved aside the should nots and just did it. My enthusiasm for living life to the fullest was far more important than adhering to my fear.
And then I became a Mom. Two daughters later, I am in the midst of the “Mother Duck” syndrome- keeping my girls close, safe and away from harm. “Stay away from that curb.” “Don’t swim too far…” “Stay close. I have to be able to see you.” “Take a jacket just in case…” “Hold my hand…there are cars out there.” “Look both ways-twice.” “Don’t talk to strangers.” “Stay in the shallow end.” “Don’t pedal too far ahead.” “Walk slowly-don’t run.” “Think about it.” “Test the water before you get in.” “Walk, don’t run.”
And somewhere along the way in teaching them to avoid danger and harm…safety Mom is playing it safe too. All of a sudden, it is me hugging the curb of life, being a little fearful of wading out past my knees in that great ocean and testing the waters oh so carefully before I make the plunge.
Lately, I have a business interest that just keeps tugging at my heart. I shared this dream with my husband and he thought it was a great idea. Then, I launched right into all the reasons I shouldn’t do it. He looked at me and asked, “Why are you so afraid of this? Why all these excuses? When I met you, you weren’t afraid of anything.”
My answer stunned even myself. “It might succeed and I am afraid. “
Afraid of success-that’s a new one! “What I really meant to say was “I have this nice, safe, neat, routine and little undisturbed world –and change would be difficult.” It is easier to play it safe-or is it?
As a Mom, I relish the big and small joys of seeing our daughters grow and learn. And – while, I need the comfort and routine of our daily lives, I find myself needing more. I need just a bit of the old daring and enthusiastic me to return once in while. And I need to pursue my dreams both big and small. After all, as the saying goes, “Everyone needs something to do, someone to love and something to hope for.”
So, I pushed safety Mom aside for a rest and have decided to shake things up a bit in my own life. Enthusiasm over excuses…I have decided to embrace change rather then fearing it. I joined a training group at the Y after a year of thinking about it. And the business idea-it’s in the works and I am excited!
My daughters are watching me. Besides being safety Mom, I am their life guide. It is my role to teach them the difference in clinging to the curb to avoid an accident and stepping away from the curb to pursue a dream. As a Mom and their greatest teacher, I have to live the difference. They will become what they see and will dare to dream-if I do.
The Bag Lady
As Moms, I thought we had to wear many hats- but I have changed that way of thinking. Instead, as Moms we must carry many bags.
My husband always laughs as holiday or birthday gifts arrive from my girl friends. “Is it a picture frame, candle…or another bag?” he will ask.
See, I like- no- love bags! I need bags! As I look about the house, there are many bags. There’s the pool bag stocked with towels, sunscreen and now empty juice boxes. There is the emergency bag with a change of clothes for everyone, paper towels and a hair brush. There’s the activity bag with books, crayons, paper and an Etch and Sketch for doctor visits.
There is my reading bag stuffed with the latest magazines perfect for the school pick up lines and waiting at the girl’s gymnastics. Let’s not forget my gym bag-complete with bottled water, gloves, goggles, hair clips and my Ipod. Oh and the prize bin bag. The famous bag in which all left over holiday, school and birthday candy and prizes are dumped- I mean - placed for future rewards.
Enough bags? Are you kidding! Since these bags represent the many facets of our expanding lives – we are always in need of more! And as I stock them, tote them and lug these things around for me and the girls – it gives a new and more stylish meaning to the term the “bag lady”. A term that I will carry well…
My husband always laughs as holiday or birthday gifts arrive from my girl friends. “Is it a picture frame, candle…or another bag?” he will ask.
See, I like- no- love bags! I need bags! As I look about the house, there are many bags. There’s the pool bag stocked with towels, sunscreen and now empty juice boxes. There is the emergency bag with a change of clothes for everyone, paper towels and a hair brush. There’s the activity bag with books, crayons, paper and an Etch and Sketch for doctor visits.
There is my reading bag stuffed with the latest magazines perfect for the school pick up lines and waiting at the girl’s gymnastics. Let’s not forget my gym bag-complete with bottled water, gloves, goggles, hair clips and my Ipod. Oh and the prize bin bag. The famous bag in which all left over holiday, school and birthday candy and prizes are dumped- I mean - placed for future rewards.
Enough bags? Are you kidding! Since these bags represent the many facets of our expanding lives – we are always in need of more! And as I stock them, tote them and lug these things around for me and the girls – it gives a new and more stylish meaning to the term the “bag lady”. A term that I will carry well…
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Everyone Needs a Team
Life sure can throw you some curve balls. My brother, battling Aplastic Anemia for some three years, was awaiting word on a bone marrow donor in March when we received some other frightening news. My husband’s Mother called to say she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. They felt they had caught it early but they insisted on removing the lump right away. Her surgery was scheduled for April – the same month my brother was hoping to finally have his donor and transplant---and the same week my husband was leaving for another deployment.
The news took our breath away. We cried, we worried and we wondered how and why. I was full of questions and worry about how I could be there for both, how I could accomplish it logistically with the girls and the many things I wanted to do to insure that both families were loved and supported. Faith over fear – I thought. And-I went into action mode.
My husband’s Mother, with her usual grace and faith, insisted that she face her breast cancer head on with the news out in the open for all to know and understand. She encouraged me to once again call on so many friends and family members that had become such fierce and loyal prayer warriors. She knew it was something I could, would and needed to do.
So, I wrote this amazing group offering yet another update on my brother paired with the news about my Mother-in-law. And as usual, their responses brought me to tears. There were e-mails of prayer, hope and comfort to me, her and my brother. Inspirational notes and cards were mailed to friends that they have never, ever met. These prayer warriors inquired about the specific prayer needs and wishes of both. They heard, they felt and they acted with simple kindness and grace. Such small gestures-that had an enormous impact on all of us.
And the love keeps on coming. Many have joined the bone marrow registry. Others simply keep writing those notes to my brother and his own family that lift their spirits on those cloudy days. Some have sent him crossword puzzles, projects, movies and magazines to pass the time in isolation. Others—simply pray… and often. It’s the simple things…
I stumbled on this great lesson while I was three months pregnant and our oldest was two. My husband deployed for a four month tour in Iraq at the height of the war. I was ridden with fear, anxiety and worry. Slowly I began sending out e-mails with his updates and asking those to pray for his safety. This wonderful group embraced our prayer needs and more. They sent notes, cards and words of inspiration to both of us. They knew just what we needed –a little bit of faith over fear. It helped to see our family through a challenging journey-one I was grateful that I did not have to face alone.
It is comforting to know that through such storms, there are those bright lights of hope and faith. We are never, ever alone on a journey. We weren’t designed to be a one man operation in a crisis or in the midst of joy. We courageously reach out and others compassionately reach back. We all need a team…and I am grateful for this one.
The news took our breath away. We cried, we worried and we wondered how and why. I was full of questions and worry about how I could be there for both, how I could accomplish it logistically with the girls and the many things I wanted to do to insure that both families were loved and supported. Faith over fear – I thought. And-I went into action mode.
My husband’s Mother, with her usual grace and faith, insisted that she face her breast cancer head on with the news out in the open for all to know and understand. She encouraged me to once again call on so many friends and family members that had become such fierce and loyal prayer warriors. She knew it was something I could, would and needed to do.
So, I wrote this amazing group offering yet another update on my brother paired with the news about my Mother-in-law. And as usual, their responses brought me to tears. There were e-mails of prayer, hope and comfort to me, her and my brother. Inspirational notes and cards were mailed to friends that they have never, ever met. These prayer warriors inquired about the specific prayer needs and wishes of both. They heard, they felt and they acted with simple kindness and grace. Such small gestures-that had an enormous impact on all of us.
And the love keeps on coming. Many have joined the bone marrow registry. Others simply keep writing those notes to my brother and his own family that lift their spirits on those cloudy days. Some have sent him crossword puzzles, projects, movies and magazines to pass the time in isolation. Others—simply pray… and often. It’s the simple things…
I stumbled on this great lesson while I was three months pregnant and our oldest was two. My husband deployed for a four month tour in Iraq at the height of the war. I was ridden with fear, anxiety and worry. Slowly I began sending out e-mails with his updates and asking those to pray for his safety. This wonderful group embraced our prayer needs and more. They sent notes, cards and words of inspiration to both of us. They knew just what we needed –a little bit of faith over fear. It helped to see our family through a challenging journey-one I was grateful that I did not have to face alone.
It is comforting to know that through such storms, there are those bright lights of hope and faith. We are never, ever alone on a journey. We weren’t designed to be a one man operation in a crisis or in the midst of joy. We courageously reach out and others compassionately reach back. We all need a team…and I am grateful for this one.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
That Little Suit
No, no, no…it can’t be! It’s that time of year already? I am not prepared! It has arrived to soon…I need more time! P-l-e-a-s-e, not yet.
Could it be that my daughters are out of school—looking for the next adventure and asking the endless “What next Mom?” Maybe it’s the extra gray hairs from scrambling to find another camp or vacation bible study for their entertainment and my survival. Maybe it’s the lyrics, “let me entertain you…” as I attempt to comb through various community event schedules to fill our days with some low cost fun. Maybe it is the summer art box that we have already plowed through with the paint and glitter etched on the kitchen table and patio to prove it. Entertain to stay sane…
Maybe it is the family vacations. The vacations that are full of beauty and promise until a child gets sick, the family begins bickering and the wallet and tolerance gauge are on “E”. Travel and unravel…
These are tough, but there is something even more difficult. It is something I dread, avoid, delay and downright dread each summer.
It begins in late spring when the catalogs begin arriving. I begin thumbing through and bending the pages of the ones that I consider a maybe. Wincing, I quickly by-pass the pages of the certainly not and then stare longingly at the ones I label the “I wish”. And finally, I come across a page of the “used to be”.
The “used to be” me was a size 6 or 8 that longed for the hot summer and an even hotter bikini. The body was toned and it was bronzed usually via the local tanning beds. Searching for that little suit was a fun girl’s outing. It was exciting!
And now? I am not that 6 or 8. I don’t tolerate the heat as well and I am seeking something between the look of the juniors and the Sag Harbor department. Some areas are still toned, while others need to be lifted up, held in and miraculously hidden! And bronzing? The areas that are bronzed are the ones that I can easily reach with my self tanner! And of course, I go it alone! After all, I’ll pass on anyone seeing me in the up close mirrors, 2x2 dressing rooms with yellowish overhead lighting-without a tan!
So each and every summer, the hunt begins. The summer that my oldest daughter was one, I went for the 100% Mom bathing suit. (You know the look, so I will let you imagine the bathing suit!) My darling husband with his usual sense of humor laughed and said, “You’re not ready for that yet.” “Maybe you’re not.” I laughingly replied. I wore that suit that summer never feeling quite right in it.
Another summer, I tried the flowered tankini. I liked the flowers and after several yanks and tugs, I decided it offered enough coverage and looked a bit less “Momish”. My oldest caught sight of this one and laughed about the great big flowers on it. During that summer, I wondered if the flowers were a bit too much and I never felt quite right in it either.
Several summers ago, I thought I had found the perfect suit until I saw the pictures of me in it. There’s the bikini top and skirt combo--a good look except I have to tie the top fairly tight around my neck for support! (Who needs to breathe anyway?) And let’s not forget, the loose tankini top with the short skirt in the orange and brown! Oh, the stress from this little suit!
I just never seem to get it right!
And then it happened. Our family was enjoying a bright, fun-filled day at a local beach and I saw it. I saw her. She walked the beach with a sunny smile and bucket of confidence. She left the cover-up behind. She didn’t need it. It was a bold yellow bikini-one that you had to notice. She was tanned and she was beautiful…and she had to be in her upper 60’s. I watched her as she strolled by and as she faded into the crowd as she made her way down the shore line. And then, I began to reflect.
Motherhood has changed my body, my heart, my mind and my soul. When you become a Mom, your heart gets larger to take in more love and joy than you could have ever imagined or believed existed. Your mind expands for all the filing space needed to ensure that every need from big to small is met with great detail, care and concern. And the soul has quadrupled to be able to protect and care for our children, families, friends, people in need, the Earth and environment, animals, schools and other causes-all selflessly.
And, so too, our physical appearances have been altered by Motherhood. This one, by far, being the most difficult to understand and accept. I t is often how we judge ourselves and feel measured by others.
Our physical change represents something even bigger than self perception, age ---or gravity. Maybe, just maybe, our external badge of Motherhood symbolizes the amazing and beautiful changes and growth we have experienced on the inside.
So, the woman in the little yellow suit had it right. It is not what you wear, but how you choose to wear it. All these years, I had it so wrong. It’s not that the suit that wasn’t right, it was really about how I felt about me. I have been so worried about my exterior changes that I haven’t bothered to celebrate the interior ones.
Change is cause for a celebration! So, this year I’ll try out the bikini—maybe even a bold, bright yellow one. And I will wear it proudly with a huge grin and a new confidence...because I treasure who, what and where I am on this journey of Motherhood…battle scars and all! It is the new me on the outside and in…and you can’t have one without the other.
Could it be that my daughters are out of school—looking for the next adventure and asking the endless “What next Mom?” Maybe it’s the extra gray hairs from scrambling to find another camp or vacation bible study for their entertainment and my survival. Maybe it’s the lyrics, “let me entertain you…” as I attempt to comb through various community event schedules to fill our days with some low cost fun. Maybe it is the summer art box that we have already plowed through with the paint and glitter etched on the kitchen table and patio to prove it. Entertain to stay sane…
Maybe it is the family vacations. The vacations that are full of beauty and promise until a child gets sick, the family begins bickering and the wallet and tolerance gauge are on “E”. Travel and unravel…
These are tough, but there is something even more difficult. It is something I dread, avoid, delay and downright dread each summer.
It begins in late spring when the catalogs begin arriving. I begin thumbing through and bending the pages of the ones that I consider a maybe. Wincing, I quickly by-pass the pages of the certainly not and then stare longingly at the ones I label the “I wish”. And finally, I come across a page of the “used to be”.
The “used to be” me was a size 6 or 8 that longed for the hot summer and an even hotter bikini. The body was toned and it was bronzed usually via the local tanning beds. Searching for that little suit was a fun girl’s outing. It was exciting!
And now? I am not that 6 or 8. I don’t tolerate the heat as well and I am seeking something between the look of the juniors and the Sag Harbor department. Some areas are still toned, while others need to be lifted up, held in and miraculously hidden! And bronzing? The areas that are bronzed are the ones that I can easily reach with my self tanner! And of course, I go it alone! After all, I’ll pass on anyone seeing me in the up close mirrors, 2x2 dressing rooms with yellowish overhead lighting-without a tan!
So each and every summer, the hunt begins. The summer that my oldest daughter was one, I went for the 100% Mom bathing suit. (You know the look, so I will let you imagine the bathing suit!) My darling husband with his usual sense of humor laughed and said, “You’re not ready for that yet.” “Maybe you’re not.” I laughingly replied. I wore that suit that summer never feeling quite right in it.
Another summer, I tried the flowered tankini. I liked the flowers and after several yanks and tugs, I decided it offered enough coverage and looked a bit less “Momish”. My oldest caught sight of this one and laughed about the great big flowers on it. During that summer, I wondered if the flowers were a bit too much and I never felt quite right in it either.
Several summers ago, I thought I had found the perfect suit until I saw the pictures of me in it. There’s the bikini top and skirt combo--a good look except I have to tie the top fairly tight around my neck for support! (Who needs to breathe anyway?) And let’s not forget, the loose tankini top with the short skirt in the orange and brown! Oh, the stress from this little suit!
I just never seem to get it right!
And then it happened. Our family was enjoying a bright, fun-filled day at a local beach and I saw it. I saw her. She walked the beach with a sunny smile and bucket of confidence. She left the cover-up behind. She didn’t need it. It was a bold yellow bikini-one that you had to notice. She was tanned and she was beautiful…and she had to be in her upper 60’s. I watched her as she strolled by and as she faded into the crowd as she made her way down the shore line. And then, I began to reflect.
Motherhood has changed my body, my heart, my mind and my soul. When you become a Mom, your heart gets larger to take in more love and joy than you could have ever imagined or believed existed. Your mind expands for all the filing space needed to ensure that every need from big to small is met with great detail, care and concern. And the soul has quadrupled to be able to protect and care for our children, families, friends, people in need, the Earth and environment, animals, schools and other causes-all selflessly.
And, so too, our physical appearances have been altered by Motherhood. This one, by far, being the most difficult to understand and accept. I t is often how we judge ourselves and feel measured by others.
Our physical change represents something even bigger than self perception, age ---or gravity. Maybe, just maybe, our external badge of Motherhood symbolizes the amazing and beautiful changes and growth we have experienced on the inside.
So, the woman in the little yellow suit had it right. It is not what you wear, but how you choose to wear it. All these years, I had it so wrong. It’s not that the suit that wasn’t right, it was really about how I felt about me. I have been so worried about my exterior changes that I haven’t bothered to celebrate the interior ones.
Change is cause for a celebration! So, this year I’ll try out the bikini—maybe even a bold, bright yellow one. And I will wear it proudly with a huge grin and a new confidence...because I treasure who, what and where I am on this journey of Motherhood…battle scars and all! It is the new me on the outside and in…and you can’t have one without the other.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Several years ago, I sat with the Kleenex clutched in my hand tears streaming down my cheeks as a pastor’s wife read aloud a letter she had received from her daughter on Mother’s Day. The daughter, now away at college, expressed that she now understood. She now understood and appreciated the endless rules, boundaries, adventures, questions, spankings, support and the importance of her Mom just being there.
I have long forgotten the exact wording of this letter, but I have never forgotten the emotional impact of the letter on me and the other Moms that day. I dream of receiving a hand written letter like that someday from my daughters on Mother’s Day. The accolades aren’t important. The gratitude is secondary. It is the understanding that I most seek.
So, I started thinking. What would I hope they would say? And so, I decided to write it. I needed to write it to make sure I am living it-a resource, guide and a reminder to me as a Mom. So here it is.
Dear Mom,
I remember how you were teaching me to swim and you kept secretly backing up. The first day of school that you wiped my tears and nudged me into my classroom-and hid around the corner to make sure I was okay (I knew you were there.). There was the day after a break up you insisted that I go to school. I recall the time you steadfastly refused to bring me my lunch after I had forgotten it for the fourth time.
I laugh as I remember the time my bucket full of frogs spilled out in the night and you made me catch every single one. There was the week I wanted to quit track and you insisted that I finish the season. That Spring when I was ready to ditch my dance date for “Mr. It” and you wouldn’t let me. The times I wanted to stay out just as late as some others and you said no. I remember that my rather small clothing budget didn’t allow for $60 t-shirts.
I laugh as I recall the times you placed a stuffed crab in our pants-and your own- when we were grumpy. The times you said “I am sorry” when you lost your temper. I can still see the steps you made us sit on while holding hands and saying, “Sisters forever. Sisters forever. Sisters forever. “after a fight.
You placed the computer in the kitchen, asked all those never ending questions about my friends and insisted on taking down the information of those driving me. Making me leave notes about where I was going, when I would be home and who I was with. Making me invite Suzy over when no one else liked her.
There was the punishment for arriving two minutes after curfew. There were the many thank you notes you insisted that I write. We were constantly reminded of the yes ma’ms and no sirs to adults all while looking them in the eye when speaking. You seemed to know just when I was hesitating to tell the truth and you would assure me that telling the truth is often less painful in the end than telling a lie. Making me apologize to the neighbor for picking all of her flowers and insisting on restitution-raking her entire yard. Making me cut blades of grass in the heat with scissors when you knew I had a hangover.
I remember those “boring” Saturdays where we cleaned other’s yards or delivered meals. There were the holidays you required us to shorten our lists to give bikes to other children. There was the time we bought that extra sandwich for the homeless man outside the restaurant. You insisting that part of our allowance be placed in the offering plate—and another 10% to savings. The relief I felt when you picked me and my friends up late that night with no questions asked.
Bugging me to always take a coat, have some cash on hand and to always travel with water. Dragging me to church and insisting that I go to youth group-no excuses. You encouraged me to speak up and out in family discussions, but that you and Dad had the final say. For not talking to my coach when you knew he was being unfair. For encouraging my friends to always come over to our house. You chaperoned dances and overnights and worked the high school snack stand all so you could know just what was going on in my school.. You would often pause to hear my phone conversations.
There were those fun lunches and shopping trips-where we laughed a lot and you bought very little. The times we sat alone at the table over a piece of cake pondering my heartache. I remember all the cookies we baked and crafts we made-and the laughter in between. You placed notes of inspiration in my backpack. I treasure those many shopping hours for the perfect prom dress. I remember you going with me the time I had trash detail for a punishment.
You were in the front row on awards day and in the bleachers for my sporting events. Sometimes when I asked for your advice, you offered it and sometimes you posed the hard questions back to me. Sometimes you said a great deal and others you remained silent.
For the many times, that while Dad was away, that you played both Mom and Dad. All the “Daddy” notes you helped us write and for the Daddy boxes we filled while he was away. Placing our thumbs together and yelling “team work” as we tackled yard and house work together. For encouraging us to miss him, but to also know, appreciate and understand the importance of what he was doing. For drying our tears and for making us laugh…and for the crazy adventures you dared to lead even when he wasn’t home.
There were your many dates with Dad-when you left us with a sitter. The times we asked which of us you loved the most and you would reply, “Dad comes in first-with the two of you tying for a very close second.” I remember the many notes of yours and ours that you tucked in Dad’s suitcases when he was heading out for a trip. You insisted that we hug and kiss Dad when he left for a trip-even though we didn’t want to. And then you held us while we cried when he left.
Mom, I now know it wasn’t easy. We often weren’t easy! But now I know…I really know.
All these things were for us. It wasn’t just your words. It was your actions. You rarely missed a moment to teach us something-big or small. You were and are the greatest teacher I have ever had.
You insisted we really love our family, friends and even complete strangers. Even when we were at our worst, we felt and knew we were loved-and that you believed in us. And when something great happened-you were the first we wanted to share it with.
You’ve been right there for me through it all. Moms offer a special kind of love like no other…now I understand.
I really love you Mom. Happy Mother’s Day!
Happy Mother’s Day! Take the time to listen to the song titled, A Mother’s Day, by Jim Brickman on his album Simple Things. And have your Kleenex handy….
I have long forgotten the exact wording of this letter, but I have never forgotten the emotional impact of the letter on me and the other Moms that day. I dream of receiving a hand written letter like that someday from my daughters on Mother’s Day. The accolades aren’t important. The gratitude is secondary. It is the understanding that I most seek.
So, I started thinking. What would I hope they would say? And so, I decided to write it. I needed to write it to make sure I am living it-a resource, guide and a reminder to me as a Mom. So here it is.
Dear Mom,
I remember how you were teaching me to swim and you kept secretly backing up. The first day of school that you wiped my tears and nudged me into my classroom-and hid around the corner to make sure I was okay (I knew you were there.). There was the day after a break up you insisted that I go to school. I recall the time you steadfastly refused to bring me my lunch after I had forgotten it for the fourth time.
I laugh as I remember the time my bucket full of frogs spilled out in the night and you made me catch every single one. There was the week I wanted to quit track and you insisted that I finish the season. That Spring when I was ready to ditch my dance date for “Mr. It” and you wouldn’t let me. The times I wanted to stay out just as late as some others and you said no. I remember that my rather small clothing budget didn’t allow for $60 t-shirts.
I laugh as I recall the times you placed a stuffed crab in our pants-and your own- when we were grumpy. The times you said “I am sorry” when you lost your temper. I can still see the steps you made us sit on while holding hands and saying, “Sisters forever. Sisters forever. Sisters forever. “after a fight.
You placed the computer in the kitchen, asked all those never ending questions about my friends and insisted on taking down the information of those driving me. Making me leave notes about where I was going, when I would be home and who I was with. Making me invite Suzy over when no one else liked her.
There was the punishment for arriving two minutes after curfew. There were the many thank you notes you insisted that I write. We were constantly reminded of the yes ma’ms and no sirs to adults all while looking them in the eye when speaking. You seemed to know just when I was hesitating to tell the truth and you would assure me that telling the truth is often less painful in the end than telling a lie. Making me apologize to the neighbor for picking all of her flowers and insisting on restitution-raking her entire yard. Making me cut blades of grass in the heat with scissors when you knew I had a hangover.
I remember those “boring” Saturdays where we cleaned other’s yards or delivered meals. There were the holidays you required us to shorten our lists to give bikes to other children. There was the time we bought that extra sandwich for the homeless man outside the restaurant. You insisting that part of our allowance be placed in the offering plate—and another 10% to savings. The relief I felt when you picked me and my friends up late that night with no questions asked.
Bugging me to always take a coat, have some cash on hand and to always travel with water. Dragging me to church and insisting that I go to youth group-no excuses. You encouraged me to speak up and out in family discussions, but that you and Dad had the final say. For not talking to my coach when you knew he was being unfair. For encouraging my friends to always come over to our house. You chaperoned dances and overnights and worked the high school snack stand all so you could know just what was going on in my school.. You would often pause to hear my phone conversations.
There were those fun lunches and shopping trips-where we laughed a lot and you bought very little. The times we sat alone at the table over a piece of cake pondering my heartache. I remember all the cookies we baked and crafts we made-and the laughter in between. You placed notes of inspiration in my backpack. I treasure those many shopping hours for the perfect prom dress. I remember you going with me the time I had trash detail for a punishment.
You were in the front row on awards day and in the bleachers for my sporting events. Sometimes when I asked for your advice, you offered it and sometimes you posed the hard questions back to me. Sometimes you said a great deal and others you remained silent.
For the many times, that while Dad was away, that you played both Mom and Dad. All the “Daddy” notes you helped us write and for the Daddy boxes we filled while he was away. Placing our thumbs together and yelling “team work” as we tackled yard and house work together. For encouraging us to miss him, but to also know, appreciate and understand the importance of what he was doing. For drying our tears and for making us laugh…and for the crazy adventures you dared to lead even when he wasn’t home.
There were your many dates with Dad-when you left us with a sitter. The times we asked which of us you loved the most and you would reply, “Dad comes in first-with the two of you tying for a very close second.” I remember the many notes of yours and ours that you tucked in Dad’s suitcases when he was heading out for a trip. You insisted that we hug and kiss Dad when he left for a trip-even though we didn’t want to. And then you held us while we cried when he left.
Mom, I now know it wasn’t easy. We often weren’t easy! But now I know…I really know.
All these things were for us. It wasn’t just your words. It was your actions. You rarely missed a moment to teach us something-big or small. You were and are the greatest teacher I have ever had.
You insisted we really love our family, friends and even complete strangers. Even when we were at our worst, we felt and knew we were loved-and that you believed in us. And when something great happened-you were the first we wanted to share it with.
You’ve been right there for me through it all. Moms offer a special kind of love like no other…now I understand.
I really love you Mom. Happy Mother’s Day!
Happy Mother’s Day! Take the time to listen to the song titled, A Mother’s Day, by Jim Brickman on his album Simple Things. And have your Kleenex handy….
Sunday, March 30, 2008
The Note and The Hug
My oldest daughter is like me. We speak the same love language. She loves words of affirmation and gifts. We can understand each other.
My youngest is like my husband. They speak the same love language of affection. They thrive on hugs, kisses and holding hands. They understand each other.
And here’s where we collide. My oldest and I are always hard at work on notes for the other two. The other two would rather just have huge kisses planted on their cheeks or be embraced by a huge hug. Those two hug us and we then await some great words of affirmation…and there aren’t any.
It can be quite funny. Just the other day, as my husband prepared to leave for a rather lengthy trip, I was feverishly writing one card after another to hide in his luggage. My oldest joined in drawing pictures and asking me and her sister to sign them as well. The youngest was running around hugging her Dad and me the whole time. My husband held my hand on the way to the airport and offered a huge hug and a kiss as he left.
The very next day, my oldest was already preparing some welcome home signs for his return! I finally came up with an idea to have a “Daddy” box that she could fill with notes and drawings as a gift for him when he returned. She began churning out one picture and note after another-and I knew why.
My youngest, now three, spent the day in my lap, being held and holding my hand. There were lots of hugs and kisses exchanged that day between her and me. We were inseparable-and she made sure of that. She was even more affectionate than usual – and I knew why.
During bedtime that evening, my oldest was stumbling as she tried to tell me something. It took her several tries, but out it finally came.
She said, “Mom, she hugs and kisses you too much. She loves you too much.”
I hugged her and assured her that I loved them both the same. As I was leaving, she handed me a special note-just for me…and asked for another hug.
Upon tucking in the little one, she whispered, “Fun day. Good job today, Mom.” Then, those two little hands wrapped around my neck and pulled me in for a heartfelt hug and kiss.
I knew we all missed their Daddy. Our worlds had collided and it sure felt good.
My youngest is like my husband. They speak the same love language of affection. They thrive on hugs, kisses and holding hands. They understand each other.
And here’s where we collide. My oldest and I are always hard at work on notes for the other two. The other two would rather just have huge kisses planted on their cheeks or be embraced by a huge hug. Those two hug us and we then await some great words of affirmation…and there aren’t any.
It can be quite funny. Just the other day, as my husband prepared to leave for a rather lengthy trip, I was feverishly writing one card after another to hide in his luggage. My oldest joined in drawing pictures and asking me and her sister to sign them as well. The youngest was running around hugging her Dad and me the whole time. My husband held my hand on the way to the airport and offered a huge hug and a kiss as he left.
The very next day, my oldest was already preparing some welcome home signs for his return! I finally came up with an idea to have a “Daddy” box that she could fill with notes and drawings as a gift for him when he returned. She began churning out one picture and note after another-and I knew why.
My youngest, now three, spent the day in my lap, being held and holding my hand. There were lots of hugs and kisses exchanged that day between her and me. We were inseparable-and she made sure of that. She was even more affectionate than usual – and I knew why.
During bedtime that evening, my oldest was stumbling as she tried to tell me something. It took her several tries, but out it finally came.
She said, “Mom, she hugs and kisses you too much. She loves you too much.”
I hugged her and assured her that I loved them both the same. As I was leaving, she handed me a special note-just for me…and asked for another hug.
Upon tucking in the little one, she whispered, “Fun day. Good job today, Mom.” Then, those two little hands wrapped around my neck and pulled me in for a heartfelt hug and kiss.
I knew we all missed their Daddy. Our worlds had collided and it sure felt good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
