Life is full of raw irony. When you are holding down the middle ground on the aging timeline, it becomes all too apparent that not only is life unpredictable, it is downright impossible.
For example, who would have imagined that the daughter who screamed at the very sight of a car seat for the first year of her life would turn out to love driving more than anyone else in the family? I can, even now, visualize her red little nose and her dripping eyes as I stuffed her into the dreaded seat which would confine her for the entire ten minutes it would take to get anywhere. She would look at me with salty disdain from her perch in the center of the back seat, angry and unforgiving, until I pulled her out again.
When she got a little older, she got more enterprising, and put her brain power to work on thwarting me in my quest for ultimate safety. I would buckle her in and sit down in the driver's seat to pull away when, pouf, there she would be, hanging over the seat, clutching me around the neck in a death grip. This maneuver was usually accompanied by a wailing sound, and it wasn't always the kid.
Ultimately, you can shove a child into their car seat, but you cannot make them sit there, and she won. I got a booster seat, which was the first of many negotiated automobile compromises to come. While I knew it wasn't really up to approved safety standards, it was better than a two year old hurtling around unrestrained in the interior of the moving car. Ultimately, in the interests of ever leaving the driveway again, I had to give in.
Ironically, as I said earlier, that same child is now firmly planted in the driver's seat of her car every chance she gets, and loves the power and the feel of the car on the road. In fact, she would rather drive than do almost anything. The car that once confined her is now her ticket to the larger world outside her home, and she rushes here and there with unrestrained passion for the freedom she now enjoys.
As a parent, I find irony in much that happens in life. I have spent the last 25 years making myself obsolete, only to find that I don't want to let go. Just when your children get to be interesting people, they suddenly want to spend time with everyone but you. The same children whose impeccable manners are widely praised by everyone else cannot remember the most common courtesy at home.
There is also irony in being an adult "child." I have seen my friends and relatives struggle with the caretaking of a parent that is no longer able to do so for themselves. Instead of depending on the adults who have cared for them their entire lives, suddenly, the roles are reversed, and they are now taking care of their parents. It is a difficult transition, both mentally and emotionally, for both parties.
All their lives, my children have heard, "I am the parent, you are the child, and that means I am in charge." How ironic it will be when suddenly the child holds all the cards, and I won't have a deck any more. Hopefully they will be old enough that their memories will be failing.
Ironies come in all shapes and sizes, of course. It is one of life's smaller ironies that the number of red lights you will have to stop for is directly proportional to how late you left the driveway. If you left on time for a dinner party, or, even better, early, you will have the green light express and arrive 20 minutes before the hostess has gotten out of her shower. If you left five minutes after the last second, it will take you 40 minutes to go ten miles, and you will arrive after dessert is on the table.
Mixed in one way, flour and water make paste. Ironically, mixed another way, they make lefse, the Norwegian version of a tortilla. One is inedible, the other is delectable. Sweet irony.
Irony is defined by people differently, I think, meaning that what I consider to be ironic, you may not. For example, I find it ironic that I ended up with two children, because when I was in college, I was never going to have any at all. I also find it ironic that every appliance goes bad at once, that we fertilize the grass so we can cut it down, and that eating "natural" and organic foods is more costly than shipping in chemically preserved foods from the other side of the world.
I find it ironic that there are permanent press clothes, which are always wrinkled. Does anyone else find it ironic that the garage door always breaks when you are on the inside and can't get out, rather than stopped outside, and struggling to get in?
Mother Nature is full of irony. Beautiful roses also have thorns. Honey bees have stingers. Ten minutes is forever standing in line, but flies by when you are on the ride. Water is so soft and formless it just washes over you, but it can also carve deep canyons that can be seen from outer space.
There is an old saying, strike while the iron's hot. Although you can get burned, a little irony goes a long ways in removing the wrinkles from life. It's up to you - do you want your life to be safely permanent press, or are you going to take the chance of getting scorched on the hot iron?
I say get out the ironing board!
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Keeping things in perspective....
I have been musing this morning on how flexible perspective can be, depending on the circumstances in which you find yourself.
For example, three days ago, if you had informed me that I would need to spend $125 on repairing my washing machine, I would have been appalled. I don't have an extra $125 laying around with nowhere to go, and I certainly didn't need to throw it away on washing machine repairs with a graduation party coming up, and college to pay for.
Technically, I will have two "children" in college next year. I can't really claim the oldest one is either a child, or my responsibility, since he has managed to find a way to both continue going to college at age 24, and get paid for it, but still, the fact remains. Two of them. In college. At once. Be amazed. I know I am.
Where was I again? Oh yes. Perspective. One moment, $125 sounds like a huge sum of money. The next moment, it sounds like small change, especially when we are talking about repairs of any kind, and numbers with lots of zeros begin to loom.
A couple of days ago, I walked into my laundry room to find water spreading rapidly across the floor. The obvious source was my washing machine, the center of a quickly expanding pool threatening to engulf everything within several feet of the offending equipment. I grabbed some towels from the laundry basket sitting there at my feet, and threw them on the floor to soak up as much water as I could, while I tried to figure out what had happened.
Because it didn't make any sense to me that my washing machine should suddenly, out of nowhere, start to leak, I assumed it was an overflow, or something random that happened. My perspective was narrow and limited, and didn't yet allow for the possibility that something more drastic had occurred.
I threw in another load to see what would happen, and shortly thereafter, once again saw my floor, and my perspective, being increasingly consumed by water. I threw down more towels, emptied the washer of the water that remained, and called for help.
I did not want to make that call, knowing that it was probably going to cost me a lot of money. Car repairs never seem to cost less than $1000, and smaller electronics never seem to be less than $300. I think it's a rule or something - that's the minimum charge. So I was resigned to my fate, and accepted that the price of clean clothes was going to be another $300 out of my already empty pocket.
Thus, I was pleasantly surprised this morning to learn that the cost was "only" going to be $125 to replace a drain hose that had a small hole worn into it. How quickly things changed, as $125 went from a huge sum to good news. My mind shifted in split second timing, as I immediately absorbed the savings of $175. (This is the type of creative accounting that allows Congress to see a rise in spending as a cut - they haven't spent as much as they were originally going to, so thus, we now have a savings. Simple perspective.)
Perspective is, by definition, a view, a vista or a mental outlook. Human beings have a fascinating ability to come to grips with almost any situation, aided and abetted by an ever changing sense of perspective. We can be whipsawed by the change, it can occur so rapidly, as we acquire additional information or gather supporting facts.
When we take a photograph, we generally do it straight on, standing in front of the subject, putting them in the center of the frame. The more artistic among us, however, have a different perspective, and will tilt the camera, or fuzz the background, use different colors, or shoot from an unusual angle. The perspective of the shooter will change the perception of the viewer, and you will see what they saw.
In life you cannot control the perspective so neatly and easily. I think that is why blind dates so seldom work out. Whatever the introducer sees in each of their friends is rarely what they see in each other. Their perspective, as the introducees, is different than that of the one who knows each of them more fully, and that first impression is difficult to overcome.
Children take their perspective from their parents, and as they grow older, add their own experiences to the mix, until, as adults, they form their own opinions, independent of their parents. Whether its people or food or experiences, they have their own perspective, and it's often surprising to find out what they think or feel.
I have never liked meringue. There is something about the taste and texture of it that does not appeal to me, and I don't enjoy foods where that is a big part of the product. Thus, I was shocked a few years back to learn that my son, my very own child, liked lemon meringue pie. I had a difficult time wrapping my mind around the idea that not only did he have his own opinion, it was, in fact, the complete opposite of mine, and in direct conflict with my strong feelings.
Needless to say, this is not the last time we have come into deeply held conflict, as he has only solidified his opinionated nature as he has grown into adulthood and lived increasingly on his own. But it was, for me, the wake up call that adulthood was looming, and that soon his perspective would not be what I told him it was, but rather, his own.
I have often been told that my son is like me, and so the points of conflict are, by definition, somewhat limited in scope. We generally have the same outlook on life, and frequently are facing the same direction, even if the angle is slightly different.
The same cannot be said for my daughter, who has her own perspective on everything, and is rarely in sync with me on any given subject. She has her own way of dressing, her own way of thinking, her own way of looking at the world, and it is rarely how I would do it.
She wears boots in the summer and flip flops in the winter. She will wear shorts and a winter coat. She is a puzzle to me most of the time, as she and I rarely see things from the same perspective. She has enlarged my world, as I have learned to examine things from different angles, and allowed myself to expand the assumptions that color my understanding.
When I was little, my mother always dressed me in blue. She loves the color blue, and she looks good in it, so that is what she usually chose for my clothes as well. I never wore green or black, because, spoken or not, her perspective was that I didn't look good in those colors.
As I got older, I continued to choose the colors I had always worn, because my perspective was taken from my experience. However, one time, I fell in love with a green silk dress and tried it on. I was surprised to see that it looked good on me; the color flattered my eyes and my skin tone. My perspective changed, and suddenly, I tried a variety of colors I would never have dared to wear previously.
My closet is now full of salmon and green and black, and hardly a blue piece to be found. I see myself differently, and it has opened up a new world to me that was off limits previously.
When my daughter was little, I dressed her in pink and red, because those were the colors I thought were most flattering for her. Now that she is an adult herself, she chooses her own colors, and uses the entire palette to support and enhance her vision of herself. Her perspective is entirely different than mine, and the person she presents to the world is one in vivid color.
Perspective is always influenced by one's original impressions. Although the old cliche tells us not to judge a book by its cover, as humans, we rarely flip through the pages without having a preconceived notion established by glancing at the dust jacket. First impressions are very difficult to overcome, although it can happen with time and effort.
Career counselors say you can lose a job in the first three seconds of an interview. I would believe that, because the moment you walk through the door, the interviewer is already forming an impression. That perspective will affect everything from the questions they ask, to assumptions they will make, all of which play a role in whether or not you get the job.
Perspective is everything, and I feel that the next few years will bring a new perspective to my life, as I become an empty nester, and learn to live life in a new and different way. I vividly recall 25 years ago, when I was pregnant with my first child, feeling overwhelmed by the impending responsibilities, and almost paralyzed at the thought of being in charge of someone's life for the next 18 years. My cousin, Susan, gave me some wonderful advice, which I have thought about many times since, and which I pass along here to you. She told me that parenthood happens one day at time, and that is all you really have to worry about. You grow into the job, and by the time you get to the future, you will be ready.
In other words, you need to keep things in perspective, and everything will work out. Words to live by.
For example, three days ago, if you had informed me that I would need to spend $125 on repairing my washing machine, I would have been appalled. I don't have an extra $125 laying around with nowhere to go, and I certainly didn't need to throw it away on washing machine repairs with a graduation party coming up, and college to pay for.
Technically, I will have two "children" in college next year. I can't really claim the oldest one is either a child, or my responsibility, since he has managed to find a way to both continue going to college at age 24, and get paid for it, but still, the fact remains. Two of them. In college. At once. Be amazed. I know I am.
Where was I again? Oh yes. Perspective. One moment, $125 sounds like a huge sum of money. The next moment, it sounds like small change, especially when we are talking about repairs of any kind, and numbers with lots of zeros begin to loom.
A couple of days ago, I walked into my laundry room to find water spreading rapidly across the floor. The obvious source was my washing machine, the center of a quickly expanding pool threatening to engulf everything within several feet of the offending equipment. I grabbed some towels from the laundry basket sitting there at my feet, and threw them on the floor to soak up as much water as I could, while I tried to figure out what had happened.
Because it didn't make any sense to me that my washing machine should suddenly, out of nowhere, start to leak, I assumed it was an overflow, or something random that happened. My perspective was narrow and limited, and didn't yet allow for the possibility that something more drastic had occurred.
I threw in another load to see what would happen, and shortly thereafter, once again saw my floor, and my perspective, being increasingly consumed by water. I threw down more towels, emptied the washer of the water that remained, and called for help.
I did not want to make that call, knowing that it was probably going to cost me a lot of money. Car repairs never seem to cost less than $1000, and smaller electronics never seem to be less than $300. I think it's a rule or something - that's the minimum charge. So I was resigned to my fate, and accepted that the price of clean clothes was going to be another $300 out of my already empty pocket.
Thus, I was pleasantly surprised this morning to learn that the cost was "only" going to be $125 to replace a drain hose that had a small hole worn into it. How quickly things changed, as $125 went from a huge sum to good news. My mind shifted in split second timing, as I immediately absorbed the savings of $175. (This is the type of creative accounting that allows Congress to see a rise in spending as a cut - they haven't spent as much as they were originally going to, so thus, we now have a savings. Simple perspective.)
Perspective is, by definition, a view, a vista or a mental outlook. Human beings have a fascinating ability to come to grips with almost any situation, aided and abetted by an ever changing sense of perspective. We can be whipsawed by the change, it can occur so rapidly, as we acquire additional information or gather supporting facts.
When we take a photograph, we generally do it straight on, standing in front of the subject, putting them in the center of the frame. The more artistic among us, however, have a different perspective, and will tilt the camera, or fuzz the background, use different colors, or shoot from an unusual angle. The perspective of the shooter will change the perception of the viewer, and you will see what they saw.
In life you cannot control the perspective so neatly and easily. I think that is why blind dates so seldom work out. Whatever the introducer sees in each of their friends is rarely what they see in each other. Their perspective, as the introducees, is different than that of the one who knows each of them more fully, and that first impression is difficult to overcome.
Children take their perspective from their parents, and as they grow older, add their own experiences to the mix, until, as adults, they form their own opinions, independent of their parents. Whether its people or food or experiences, they have their own perspective, and it's often surprising to find out what they think or feel.
I have never liked meringue. There is something about the taste and texture of it that does not appeal to me, and I don't enjoy foods where that is a big part of the product. Thus, I was shocked a few years back to learn that my son, my very own child, liked lemon meringue pie. I had a difficult time wrapping my mind around the idea that not only did he have his own opinion, it was, in fact, the complete opposite of mine, and in direct conflict with my strong feelings.
Needless to say, this is not the last time we have come into deeply held conflict, as he has only solidified his opinionated nature as he has grown into adulthood and lived increasingly on his own. But it was, for me, the wake up call that adulthood was looming, and that soon his perspective would not be what I told him it was, but rather, his own.
I have often been told that my son is like me, and so the points of conflict are, by definition, somewhat limited in scope. We generally have the same outlook on life, and frequently are facing the same direction, even if the angle is slightly different.
The same cannot be said for my daughter, who has her own perspective on everything, and is rarely in sync with me on any given subject. She has her own way of dressing, her own way of thinking, her own way of looking at the world, and it is rarely how I would do it.
She wears boots in the summer and flip flops in the winter. She will wear shorts and a winter coat. She is a puzzle to me most of the time, as she and I rarely see things from the same perspective. She has enlarged my world, as I have learned to examine things from different angles, and allowed myself to expand the assumptions that color my understanding.
When I was little, my mother always dressed me in blue. She loves the color blue, and she looks good in it, so that is what she usually chose for my clothes as well. I never wore green or black, because, spoken or not, her perspective was that I didn't look good in those colors.
As I got older, I continued to choose the colors I had always worn, because my perspective was taken from my experience. However, one time, I fell in love with a green silk dress and tried it on. I was surprised to see that it looked good on me; the color flattered my eyes and my skin tone. My perspective changed, and suddenly, I tried a variety of colors I would never have dared to wear previously.
My closet is now full of salmon and green and black, and hardly a blue piece to be found. I see myself differently, and it has opened up a new world to me that was off limits previously.
When my daughter was little, I dressed her in pink and red, because those were the colors I thought were most flattering for her. Now that she is an adult herself, she chooses her own colors, and uses the entire palette to support and enhance her vision of herself. Her perspective is entirely different than mine, and the person she presents to the world is one in vivid color.
Perspective is always influenced by one's original impressions. Although the old cliche tells us not to judge a book by its cover, as humans, we rarely flip through the pages without having a preconceived notion established by glancing at the dust jacket. First impressions are very difficult to overcome, although it can happen with time and effort.
Career counselors say you can lose a job in the first three seconds of an interview. I would believe that, because the moment you walk through the door, the interviewer is already forming an impression. That perspective will affect everything from the questions they ask, to assumptions they will make, all of which play a role in whether or not you get the job.
Perspective is everything, and I feel that the next few years will bring a new perspective to my life, as I become an empty nester, and learn to live life in a new and different way. I vividly recall 25 years ago, when I was pregnant with my first child, feeling overwhelmed by the impending responsibilities, and almost paralyzed at the thought of being in charge of someone's life for the next 18 years. My cousin, Susan, gave me some wonderful advice, which I have thought about many times since, and which I pass along here to you. She told me that parenthood happens one day at time, and that is all you really have to worry about. You grow into the job, and by the time you get to the future, you will be ready.
In other words, you need to keep things in perspective, and everything will work out. Words to live by.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Life is not a fairy tale....
The story of the Three Little Pigs has always been a parental favorite, because it's obvious, from the very beginning, which pig is going to win, and which pigs are going to lose. It is a cautionary tale, of course, and we read these moralistic fantasies to our children with a view to guiding them onto the right pathway. The story is all about hard work, doing things right, taking the time and effort to build the proper foundation so that you can withstand the storms of life.
If only it were so easy in real life.
Our family stands at a new threshold, one that is exciting, even thrilling, both for the two children who are fleeing the nest, as well as the mother who has anticipated this day for so long. I frequently hear children likened to baby birds leaving the nest, and flying for the first time. The parent birds even throw the reluctant fledglings out, getting them started on their own life journey. Perhaps that's true elsewhere, but doesn't really capture what I see in my world.
I think children are more like baby bunnies. I had the dubious pleasure of watching a nest of them grow to maturity a couple of weeks ago in dangerous proximity to a Jack Russell Terrier. When I accidentally discovered the nest, it was full of teensy little bunnies who did nothing but sleep in a pile deep in the ground nest. As the week went by, the pile grew larger, until it overflowed the nest, and finally, they were ready to leave. One by one, they hopped away, out into the big world by themselves, ready to take on the thrills and dangers of their future.
The Jack Russell, which I did take some care to keep away from the area, did not discover the nest until after they were out of it, and he is very disappointed, although clearly remaining hopeful they will return! There is no corollary in this story for him. I just figured I'd share.
I feel obligated to point out that this was not Peter Rabbit. These bunnies were not going to run home to mother at the end of the story, and if they got in trouble, she was no where to be seen. They were going to have to make it on their own, and if they got into Mr. McGregor's garden, they were likely to encounter a dog with a lot of teeth. This is real life, and it's a harsh world out there.
I have spent the last 25 years watching over my baby bunnies, and now, they will each flee in their own separate directions, very much like the baby bunnies as they left their nest.
The oldest, a full fledged college graduate with a fellowship at a great school ahead of him, and the thrill of graduate school on the horizon, is fully grown, self-supporting, and no longer a dependent in any sense of the word. I have watched him evolve during the last few years, and it has been a fascinating process, because this is the time where he has truly become an adult and a man, and is now ready to take on the world. He and I have adult conversations these days because suddenly, he sees things from an adult perspective, and he looks at life and the world and his future differently than he did even a year ago.
As a mother, I look at him with pride and a sense of a job well done. I have always seen, as my primary goal, making myself obsolete, and with him, I have reached the finish line.
I don't mean to imply that he doesn't still need, or perhaps more accurately want, me in his life. On the contrary, like most adult children, he calls on me frequently for help or advice of various kinds, especially when he runs into a new life situation for which he is not fully prepared.
But I know now if he had to, he could handle anything he needed to on his own. These days, when he calls for advice, he is really calling to talk over what he has already decided, and he has taken charge in a whole new way, which allows me to step back and step out of the way, and know that he is prepared for whatever life throws in his path.
My son has taken his time, done things right, and is building his house of bricks. He has planned, set goals, worked hard, and is now enjoying the fruits of his labors. It is a true thrill to see that happen, and to watch him realize his dreams. When the wolf tries to crawl down the chimney, I am confident that my son will be ready for him.
I learned this week, however, that the bunnies don't just run from the nest and disappear. They hop out of the nest and find the nearest safe place, and there they rest and prepare themselves for the big push out into the world. There is a maturing that takes place in the safety of the place near the nest - they have left, but they are gathering themselves for the big leap of faith that is life on their own.
My youngest is about to take that step and flee the nest, and find that first safe place where she will mature and grow up. Like most college campuses, it will be a mostly safe place for her to get ready to meet the world, although there will be dangers for her to deal with on her own. Each new challenge will be an additional step along the path of her maturity, a necessary part of the process of growing into adulthood.
Here is where the analogy stops, however, because unlike the mother bunny, who is out of their lives forever, I will still be here. They can return to the nest any time they want, and they know I will be here, more or less the same as always. There is a lot of comfort in that - as social creatures, it's important to each of us to know that we have our own tribe to look out for us.
A friend recently warned me that living alone is a wonderful thing, but you have to be very careful not to allow yourself to become a despot in your own kingdom. She pointed out that once your children move out, you no longer have anyone to disagree with you. Instead, you are in charge of everything all the time, you get to have everything your own way, and you never have anyone telling you what to do or taking charge of your time.
I have never lived alone, going straight from home to college, then graduate school and marriage. I feel I am on the cusp of an exciting new place in my life, one which will provide me with new opportunities for personal growth, and even to determine the course of the rest of my life. With my bunnies out of the nest, at least partway, suddenly, I have the freedom to please myself.
I will be able to sleep until 10 if I want to. [Of course, at almost 50, that is probably not in the cards, anyway, but it's the idea of it that appeals, more than the fact, anyway.] I can go to bed at 8 and watch a movie without having to think about when someone will be home. I won't have to schedule my days or nights around someone else's schedule.
The power may corrupt, I fear.
I have never had the ultimate say over my life. I have always answered to someone - parents, spouse, children, not necessarily because I had to, but because I have a lifetime of putting others first as my priority.
When my daughter was little, I had a long list of things I was going to accomplish when she went to school, and I would have all those hours every day to myself. Instead of knocking things off my list, I filled the time in other ways, largely to do with volunteering at school, and supporting my kids in their various activities.
I was a room mom for five straight years. I attended every band concert, almost every play performance, every recital, and more rehearsals than I care to remember. I have had the thrill of seeing my child perform in a national honor band, and a play that received international recognition. I coordinated, organized, participated in, and supervised any number of events, from field trips to band festivals to volunteer activities, and it has been worth every moment.
But I am looking forward to the opportunity to check some things off of my own bucket list, and to finally, at long last, reap the rewards of having given of myself to others for so long.
Sometimes you see bunnies frolicking on the lawn when they think no one is looking. They jump and dance and dart around, just enjoying life in the moment, without regard for the dangers they have passed through, or what may be ahead. I am anticipating some of those moments ahead for myself. If you happen to see a 50 year old woman frolicking through life, don't be surprised. She may be the mother bunny celebrating the empty nest, and watching her children building a house of bricks.
If only it were so easy in real life.
Our family stands at a new threshold, one that is exciting, even thrilling, both for the two children who are fleeing the nest, as well as the mother who has anticipated this day for so long. I frequently hear children likened to baby birds leaving the nest, and flying for the first time. The parent birds even throw the reluctant fledglings out, getting them started on their own life journey. Perhaps that's true elsewhere, but doesn't really capture what I see in my world.
I think children are more like baby bunnies. I had the dubious pleasure of watching a nest of them grow to maturity a couple of weeks ago in dangerous proximity to a Jack Russell Terrier. When I accidentally discovered the nest, it was full of teensy little bunnies who did nothing but sleep in a pile deep in the ground nest. As the week went by, the pile grew larger, until it overflowed the nest, and finally, they were ready to leave. One by one, they hopped away, out into the big world by themselves, ready to take on the thrills and dangers of their future.
The Jack Russell, which I did take some care to keep away from the area, did not discover the nest until after they were out of it, and he is very disappointed, although clearly remaining hopeful they will return! There is no corollary in this story for him. I just figured I'd share.
I feel obligated to point out that this was not Peter Rabbit. These bunnies were not going to run home to mother at the end of the story, and if they got in trouble, she was no where to be seen. They were going to have to make it on their own, and if they got into Mr. McGregor's garden, they were likely to encounter a dog with a lot of teeth. This is real life, and it's a harsh world out there.
I have spent the last 25 years watching over my baby bunnies, and now, they will each flee in their own separate directions, very much like the baby bunnies as they left their nest.
The oldest, a full fledged college graduate with a fellowship at a great school ahead of him, and the thrill of graduate school on the horizon, is fully grown, self-supporting, and no longer a dependent in any sense of the word. I have watched him evolve during the last few years, and it has been a fascinating process, because this is the time where he has truly become an adult and a man, and is now ready to take on the world. He and I have adult conversations these days because suddenly, he sees things from an adult perspective, and he looks at life and the world and his future differently than he did even a year ago.
As a mother, I look at him with pride and a sense of a job well done. I have always seen, as my primary goal, making myself obsolete, and with him, I have reached the finish line.
I don't mean to imply that he doesn't still need, or perhaps more accurately want, me in his life. On the contrary, like most adult children, he calls on me frequently for help or advice of various kinds, especially when he runs into a new life situation for which he is not fully prepared.
But I know now if he had to, he could handle anything he needed to on his own. These days, when he calls for advice, he is really calling to talk over what he has already decided, and he has taken charge in a whole new way, which allows me to step back and step out of the way, and know that he is prepared for whatever life throws in his path.
My son has taken his time, done things right, and is building his house of bricks. He has planned, set goals, worked hard, and is now enjoying the fruits of his labors. It is a true thrill to see that happen, and to watch him realize his dreams. When the wolf tries to crawl down the chimney, I am confident that my son will be ready for him.
I learned this week, however, that the bunnies don't just run from the nest and disappear. They hop out of the nest and find the nearest safe place, and there they rest and prepare themselves for the big push out into the world. There is a maturing that takes place in the safety of the place near the nest - they have left, but they are gathering themselves for the big leap of faith that is life on their own.
My youngest is about to take that step and flee the nest, and find that first safe place where she will mature and grow up. Like most college campuses, it will be a mostly safe place for her to get ready to meet the world, although there will be dangers for her to deal with on her own. Each new challenge will be an additional step along the path of her maturity, a necessary part of the process of growing into adulthood.
Here is where the analogy stops, however, because unlike the mother bunny, who is out of their lives forever, I will still be here. They can return to the nest any time they want, and they know I will be here, more or less the same as always. There is a lot of comfort in that - as social creatures, it's important to each of us to know that we have our own tribe to look out for us.
A friend recently warned me that living alone is a wonderful thing, but you have to be very careful not to allow yourself to become a despot in your own kingdom. She pointed out that once your children move out, you no longer have anyone to disagree with you. Instead, you are in charge of everything all the time, you get to have everything your own way, and you never have anyone telling you what to do or taking charge of your time.
I have never lived alone, going straight from home to college, then graduate school and marriage. I feel I am on the cusp of an exciting new place in my life, one which will provide me with new opportunities for personal growth, and even to determine the course of the rest of my life. With my bunnies out of the nest, at least partway, suddenly, I have the freedom to please myself.
I will be able to sleep until 10 if I want to. [Of course, at almost 50, that is probably not in the cards, anyway, but it's the idea of it that appeals, more than the fact, anyway.] I can go to bed at 8 and watch a movie without having to think about when someone will be home. I won't have to schedule my days or nights around someone else's schedule.
The power may corrupt, I fear.
I have never had the ultimate say over my life. I have always answered to someone - parents, spouse, children, not necessarily because I had to, but because I have a lifetime of putting others first as my priority.
When my daughter was little, I had a long list of things I was going to accomplish when she went to school, and I would have all those hours every day to myself. Instead of knocking things off my list, I filled the time in other ways, largely to do with volunteering at school, and supporting my kids in their various activities.
I was a room mom for five straight years. I attended every band concert, almost every play performance, every recital, and more rehearsals than I care to remember. I have had the thrill of seeing my child perform in a national honor band, and a play that received international recognition. I coordinated, organized, participated in, and supervised any number of events, from field trips to band festivals to volunteer activities, and it has been worth every moment.
But I am looking forward to the opportunity to check some things off of my own bucket list, and to finally, at long last, reap the rewards of having given of myself to others for so long.
Sometimes you see bunnies frolicking on the lawn when they think no one is looking. They jump and dance and dart around, just enjoying life in the moment, without regard for the dangers they have passed through, or what may be ahead. I am anticipating some of those moments ahead for myself. If you happen to see a 50 year old woman frolicking through life, don't be surprised. She may be the mother bunny celebrating the empty nest, and watching her children building a house of bricks.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
A laugh a day...
Human beings take themselves very seriously, as a general rule. We need look no further than Twitter to see the proof of that statement. Although I can see the value of Twitter if you are in a meeting, and want to send brief content summaries to people not in attendance, I can't see the value of knowing Lindsay Lohan's every thought or movement.
Applications such as Foursquare, which automatically report our location to our entire social network, are further evidence that we have very little sense of perspective on our own place in this universe. Perhaps even the smug assumption that writing a blog is worth the time for someone else to read is another symptom of the natural narcissism of our culture.
I generally try to maintain a sense of humor about life, because, as the old saying goes, you either laugh or you cry. I prefer to laugh. It's not always easy, especially when it comes to laughing at myself, but I try, anyway, because I hate crying. Although I've been doing a lot of that lately, what with the many changes that have already hit and will continue to occur in my household over the next few months.
However, it is always easier to laugh at someone else's troubles than it is to laugh at one's self. For example, if you see someone trip over a curb, you may initially make sure they are okay, but then you will laugh. If it's your relative or friend, you will probably laugh harder. But how do you react when it's you that is looking foolish or silly?
I got to thinking about that this morning when I read a post on my Facebook that one of my daughter's friends had posted to her wall. Teenagers are especially susceptible to taking themselves too seriously, I think. They are so worried about being seen as adults and being taken seriously by others that they forget a lot of life is nonsense, and they don't have enough fun.
The website to which my daughter's friend was referring is one where people post silly things designed to make themselves look foolish in order to make other people laugh at them. I like the trend. Even if anonymous, it is not only allowing, but actually encouraging, teens to see the embarrassing things that happen and to share them with others so they can all have a good laugh at themselves together.
Most of the stuff that gets posted is not that funny, and a lot of it is made up, simply to see what they can come up with. But I still like the idea of a website where people can make fun of themselves for the entertainment of others, with everyone having a good laugh as the outcome.
It makes a nice contrast to incidents like the recent suicides we have heard about, where kids felt so bullied by other teens that they literally couldn't bear their lives any more and ended them. The tragedies in these situations don't need elucidation. We all know it's a bad thing when a 15 or 16 year old thinks life is so terrible there is no point in waiting for something better to come along.
We live in serious times, and there are a lot of serious issues to deal with in most households. Unemployment is high, and even in households where they are employed, people are working longer hours, doing more work for less pay, and generally more stressed about everything. People are taking less vacation time, they are doing less for fun and relaxation, and they are taking themselves and life more seriously all the time.
So, in the effort to spread the laughter around, here is my anecdote for today. Several years ago, we went to Mexico on vacation. We were all laying by the large pool when an attractive young woman came walking towards us on her way to get a beverage to drink. I saw heads turning from way down at the other end of the pool, and a wave of snickering behind her, but couldn't really see what was so funny until the woman was in front of me. That was when I realized that she was letting it all hang out, literally and unintentionally.
Even as I laughed along, I found it fascinating that not one person told her. Including me. We all watched her walk by, and we all laughed and stared, but no one stopped her to tell her of her embarrassing situation. At least, until she got into the poolside bar, where the bartender spilled the bad news. We were sitting close enough for me to see her reaction, and it was clear that she had no idea of the show she had been putting on for our benefit. That might have been the funniest part of all, truthfully. It was like a comedy sketch, with her facial expressions worthy of Buster Keaton.
On her return trip, a long walk, I'm sure, she was blushing, but seemed to have a sense of humor about it. I imagine the beverage she had in hand may have helped ease the situation a little, but I suspect that mostly, she just had a sense of humor about herself. I would bet that she now tells that story to others, and has a good laugh about it every time.
There is an old saying, laughter is the best medicine. I think that is a prescription we all need to take, each and every day. Forget apples. Maybe it's really a laugh a day that keeps the doctor at bay.
Applications such as Foursquare, which automatically report our location to our entire social network, are further evidence that we have very little sense of perspective on our own place in this universe. Perhaps even the smug assumption that writing a blog is worth the time for someone else to read is another symptom of the natural narcissism of our culture.
I generally try to maintain a sense of humor about life, because, as the old saying goes, you either laugh or you cry. I prefer to laugh. It's not always easy, especially when it comes to laughing at myself, but I try, anyway, because I hate crying. Although I've been doing a lot of that lately, what with the many changes that have already hit and will continue to occur in my household over the next few months.
However, it is always easier to laugh at someone else's troubles than it is to laugh at one's self. For example, if you see someone trip over a curb, you may initially make sure they are okay, but then you will laugh. If it's your relative or friend, you will probably laugh harder. But how do you react when it's you that is looking foolish or silly?
I got to thinking about that this morning when I read a post on my Facebook that one of my daughter's friends had posted to her wall. Teenagers are especially susceptible to taking themselves too seriously, I think. They are so worried about being seen as adults and being taken seriously by others that they forget a lot of life is nonsense, and they don't have enough fun.
The website to which my daughter's friend was referring is one where people post silly things designed to make themselves look foolish in order to make other people laugh at them. I like the trend. Even if anonymous, it is not only allowing, but actually encouraging, teens to see the embarrassing things that happen and to share them with others so they can all have a good laugh at themselves together.
Most of the stuff that gets posted is not that funny, and a lot of it is made up, simply to see what they can come up with. But I still like the idea of a website where people can make fun of themselves for the entertainment of others, with everyone having a good laugh as the outcome.
It makes a nice contrast to incidents like the recent suicides we have heard about, where kids felt so bullied by other teens that they literally couldn't bear their lives any more and ended them. The tragedies in these situations don't need elucidation. We all know it's a bad thing when a 15 or 16 year old thinks life is so terrible there is no point in waiting for something better to come along.
We live in serious times, and there are a lot of serious issues to deal with in most households. Unemployment is high, and even in households where they are employed, people are working longer hours, doing more work for less pay, and generally more stressed about everything. People are taking less vacation time, they are doing less for fun and relaxation, and they are taking themselves and life more seriously all the time.
So, in the effort to spread the laughter around, here is my anecdote for today. Several years ago, we went to Mexico on vacation. We were all laying by the large pool when an attractive young woman came walking towards us on her way to get a beverage to drink. I saw heads turning from way down at the other end of the pool, and a wave of snickering behind her, but couldn't really see what was so funny until the woman was in front of me. That was when I realized that she was letting it all hang out, literally and unintentionally.
Even as I laughed along, I found it fascinating that not one person told her. Including me. We all watched her walk by, and we all laughed and stared, but no one stopped her to tell her of her embarrassing situation. At least, until she got into the poolside bar, where the bartender spilled the bad news. We were sitting close enough for me to see her reaction, and it was clear that she had no idea of the show she had been putting on for our benefit. That might have been the funniest part of all, truthfully. It was like a comedy sketch, with her facial expressions worthy of Buster Keaton.
On her return trip, a long walk, I'm sure, she was blushing, but seemed to have a sense of humor about it. I imagine the beverage she had in hand may have helped ease the situation a little, but I suspect that mostly, she just had a sense of humor about herself. I would bet that she now tells that story to others, and has a good laugh about it every time.
There is an old saying, laughter is the best medicine. I think that is a prescription we all need to take, each and every day. Forget apples. Maybe it's really a laugh a day that keeps the doctor at bay.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Children of your world....
When you have children, you find that your world expands significantly. You start with one tiny baby, and before you know it, there are a bevy of young people invading your space and your kitchen, and, it seems, your heart. As I approach my daughter's graduation day, it is with some sadness that I realize she will soon take her circus with her to college, and the days of chaos will be a distant memory too soon.
I have always enjoyed my children's friends. They are fun and funny, quirky and unique, and they found a place in my heart almost without my realizing it. When my son graduated from high school, I missed the lively discussions and the interesting conversations that came with his friends hanging around the house.
But I still had the more social child here. There wasn't much time to worry about who was missing, since she was always pretty busy filling the space.
I have realized that this fall, my life will be very different. For the first time in 25 years, I will have my time and space to myself, and it is going to be hard to fill. I find myself thinking at odd moments about the kids I will miss, and it brings me to tears. (It has been a wet spring, and it's not going to get any drier, I don't think.)
I have been a mom most of my adult life, and I am not sure I know how to be just me any more. My daughter said recently that she wasn't sure how I would get along without her, because I am always in such a haze about everything. I had to laugh, because she said the same thing before she went off to kindergarten. Just as she worried back then about what I would do to fill my lonely time without her, and how I would ever find my car in the parking lot, she is worrying now, quietly in the back of her mind, about how I will fill my time without her, and how I will ever find my car in the parking lot.
Back then, it was just a short time each day, and I cherished the precious moments to myself. Now I will have days and weeks to fill, and I will miss the fun that comes with having a social butterfly living in my household.
I will miss her friends - the laughing and the talking, the dresses and the goofy stories, the pretty smiles and the bitter tears and everything that goes with having a teenaged girl in your household. I will miss the girls, with their silly stories, and I will miss the boys with their sheepish smiles and shy manners.
It will be quiet around here, especially on dance nights, when I am used to having my bathroom overtaken by girls on a mission of beauty and fashion. I will miss walking into my bedroom and finding a group of people stretched out on my bed watching television. I will miss the talking and the laughing and the stories of all the stuff they have done, and I will especially miss all the times they were kind enough to include me in the happenings.
As your children get older, your world expands to include the people who are special to them. Whether it is their best friend or their girlfriend or boyfriend, the heart has room for everyone, and your life is the richer for it.
I realized awhile back that my daughter's closest friends know our garage door code, and think nothing of using it to come in when they arrive. It is convenient for me, because then I don't have to answer the door. But I also realized that by giving out the code to someone, you are making them a part of your world, accepting them in your circle of trust, and conferring upon them honorary family status.
When this part of my life is over, I will have no regrets. I have lived in the moment, and experienced the fun as it unfolded, and my memories will allow me to relive it whenever I want.
But just in case one of them still needs me once in awhile, I hope they will know that they can always come over for a hug and some conversation. I just hope they don't forget to close the garage door on their way out.
I have always enjoyed my children's friends. They are fun and funny, quirky and unique, and they found a place in my heart almost without my realizing it. When my son graduated from high school, I missed the lively discussions and the interesting conversations that came with his friends hanging around the house.
But I still had the more social child here. There wasn't much time to worry about who was missing, since she was always pretty busy filling the space.
I have realized that this fall, my life will be very different. For the first time in 25 years, I will have my time and space to myself, and it is going to be hard to fill. I find myself thinking at odd moments about the kids I will miss, and it brings me to tears. (It has been a wet spring, and it's not going to get any drier, I don't think.)
I have been a mom most of my adult life, and I am not sure I know how to be just me any more. My daughter said recently that she wasn't sure how I would get along without her, because I am always in such a haze about everything. I had to laugh, because she said the same thing before she went off to kindergarten. Just as she worried back then about what I would do to fill my lonely time without her, and how I would ever find my car in the parking lot, she is worrying now, quietly in the back of her mind, about how I will fill my time without her, and how I will ever find my car in the parking lot.
Back then, it was just a short time each day, and I cherished the precious moments to myself. Now I will have days and weeks to fill, and I will miss the fun that comes with having a social butterfly living in my household.
I will miss her friends - the laughing and the talking, the dresses and the goofy stories, the pretty smiles and the bitter tears and everything that goes with having a teenaged girl in your household. I will miss the girls, with their silly stories, and I will miss the boys with their sheepish smiles and shy manners.
It will be quiet around here, especially on dance nights, when I am used to having my bathroom overtaken by girls on a mission of beauty and fashion. I will miss walking into my bedroom and finding a group of people stretched out on my bed watching television. I will miss the talking and the laughing and the stories of all the stuff they have done, and I will especially miss all the times they were kind enough to include me in the happenings.
As your children get older, your world expands to include the people who are special to them. Whether it is their best friend or their girlfriend or boyfriend, the heart has room for everyone, and your life is the richer for it.
I realized awhile back that my daughter's closest friends know our garage door code, and think nothing of using it to come in when they arrive. It is convenient for me, because then I don't have to answer the door. But I also realized that by giving out the code to someone, you are making them a part of your world, accepting them in your circle of trust, and conferring upon them honorary family status.
When this part of my life is over, I will have no regrets. I have lived in the moment, and experienced the fun as it unfolded, and my memories will allow me to relive it whenever I want.
But just in case one of them still needs me once in awhile, I hope they will know that they can always come over for a hug and some conversation. I just hope they don't forget to close the garage door on their way out.
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