A Work in Progress

Mother's Day Gifts

I find the ads preceding a holiday to be particularly distasteful.  “If you really loved Mom, then you’d buy her this wonderful necklace or this new-style charm bracelet (does anyone ELSE think some of those new bracelets are clunky and just a touch ugly?”) But, the overall message is the same: you have to spend money to show Mom that she is
important – send flowers, buy jewelry, take her to dinner.

I still have the handmade wall-hanging with the imprints of painted little hands, and the mini-terrarium made from an upside-down baby jar with a little plastic rose inside.  As my sons got older, I regularly received a hand-made sign for my bedroom door (I always made one for their doors on their birthdays), and several gifts of letters filled with an extensive discussion of why I was such a great mom.  Over the years, creativity increased – and although those letters always included loving messages to me, they would take a humorous stab at the antics of whichever brother was not that letter’s author. Treasured gifts – all.

I’m a huge proponent of sharing feelings and gifts on any particular day of the year, not being driven by a randomly chosen day that appears to exist now as much for the economy as anything else. So, as I’ve watched the never-ending series of ads lately, I’ve thought about all the other gifts I’ve already received in my role as Mom:

• Those moments at 3 in the morning, when the rest of the world is seemingly asleep, and you have that one-on-one time with a hungry newborn;


• The sleepy toddler’s head that settles on your shoulder at the end of a long day, secure in the knowledge that he is safe in his mother’s arms;


• Feeling for the toe during a shoe-shopping trip, and realizing it doesn’t tell you what you really want to know (how fast their feet will grow in the next 2 months!);


• A son’s willingness to listen to one of my “teachable moment” stories just ONE MORE TIME;


• Moments when 2 boys, a mom and a full-grown border collie make a queen sized bed feel very small while watching for the local school’s name to come across the "closed school television crawl" during a snowstorm;


• That look of half-joy/half-terror when your son shifts the car into gear during your first driving lesson;


• The experience of accompanying a strikingly handsome band member as you both are acknowledged during the Senior Band Member Night football game in the pouring rain (somehow it ALWAYS rains on Senior Night);


• The image of a confident young man walking away from you after that last hug when you drop him off at college for the first time, and you are the only one that’s crying;


• The phone calls, g-chats and facebook chats that happen on a regular basis, helping you to still feel needed and loved.

Treasured gifts – all.

The Biggest Job Promotion of My Life

Later this week, I will celebrate the 23^rd anniversary of the biggest job promotion of my life.  Twenty-three years ago, I was promoted to mom.

We are a society literally buried with information when we add anything new to our homes: Warranty and Repair Information, the Getting Started Manual, Setup Instructions, and various diagrams showing how things plug-in and recharge.  Well, babies don’t come with instructions. Our oldest son was born with a life-threatening condition and spent 21 days in neonatal intensive care.  I still remember that feeling of panic and shock when the hospital allowed my husband and me to place this little baby in the infant seat of our car and just drive away. This 3-week old who had known only 24- hour, round-the-clock specialized care since his birth was simply released into the custody of 2 people who had no idea what they were doing.  At first, I thought that sense of shock and panic was due to the scare of almost losing our son and the long hospital stay.  But, that feeling was repeated when, 2 ½ years later, they let us go home with another little bundle of boy.  Yes, by then we had several years of experience. But, apparently there is a Murphy’s Law for Parents:  Nothing you’ve learned about parenting from your experience with your first child applies to parenting the second.

So you go home with this little bundle and you do your best; you provide dry diapers, milk and progress to solid food.  Through all ages and stages, you show love and acceptance (yes even when they break a window or give their favorite stuffed animal a bath in the toilet). You kiss boo-boos, calm fears and eventually reach the point where your children face decisions that must be made without you.  That’s when you find out how well you’ve done your job.

At various times in the lives of our kids, we become aware of the milestones that signal they are growing up, separating from us and becoming their own person: getting on the bus for the first day of school, borrowing the car, walking along with classmates to Pomp and Circumstance.   I received one of those digital photo frames for Christmas and have been enjoying it immensely.  But, it has made me realize that my sons have been their own person almost since they were born.  You are in the delivery room, you and your husband.  Over just a few hours time (of agonizing labor, by the way), you are now three, and years later (after more hours of agonizing labor, by the way) you are four.  In an instant of time, there is a whole person who wasn’t there before.  The digital frame flashes through the pictures of a lifetime, their lifetime(s).  Early pictures show you holding this little baby, later you are crouched down next to him/them, pictures just a few years later show a family where you can all stand together side-by-side, and before you know it, there are pictures where the camera needs to make sure to get the shortest person in the viewfinder, and that person is YOU.  That’s where we are now.

Despite the learning curve of parenting and the fact that I am one of those people who can kill an artificial plant left in my care, I look at my sons and I am proud of the job that all of us have done.

Thanks, boys, for the promotion.

Won't You Consider a Career in Modeling?

When I looked up, there was a 6’5” furry, red Elmo, a guy in a duck suit, a man-size Gumby, and someone totally encompassed head-to-toe in bright blue spandex.

No, this isn’t the set-up to a funny story or a confusing dream I had.  This is just a sampling of the fans at Marietta’s opening game of the OAC Tournament last night. People-watching was fun – the row of guys who spelled out M-A-R-I-T-T-A on their bare chests with paint, anxiously waiting for the “E” to show up; the guys in Marietta football shirts who stood along the rail at the elevated walkway above the court at one end, appearing to all the world as if they were just “happening by” the big game and stopped to watch; and the townspeople of Marietta who came out to support these college kids in full force.  The row of elderly gentlemen to the left of me leaned over and asked me “who my player was.” After I basked in the reflected glory of being the aunt of one of the starters, I returned the question to them, “Who is your player?” They sat back with huge smiles – and proudly said, “Well, all these boys are our players.”

The outcome of the game was still in question when a Marietta player stood at the opposite sideline waiting to inbound the ball.  A few steps behind him stood a middle-aged guy with an adorable little boy wearing bright yellow boots.  Well, the little boy must have said something to the player.  The Marietta player turned and smiled and gave this little boy a high-five before turning back to refocus and inbound the ball.  I didn’t see the rest of the play, because I was struck by the expression on the face of this little boy – he was absolutely beaming.  Following the Marietta victory (yay guys!!), the players stayed out on the court, each surrounded by their own little group of fans and well-wishers.  Time after time, players were interrupted by moms and dads with young kids, and by seniors who just wanted a quick word or two – to a man, I saw these young players graciously accept the interruptions, reach out to shake hands and greet the elders, crouch down next to the youngsters.  Young and old, I saw the same beaming expression on the faces of these fans after interacting with the players. And, I heard parents tell their youngsters, “When you’re older and go to college, maybe you can play basketball too.” And, I realized just how important these little moments can be, like drops into a puddle, expanding to make a huge impact on these kids, parents and seniors... now, and in the future.

Years ago, when I chaperoned local parades with my sons’ marching band, I found myself regularly telling the students to steal a glance at the faces of the children standing along the route.  The younger ones looked at these band kids as if they were gods, and I could hear parents telling their children that “someday they could play in the band” and then ask them what instrument they might like to study.  If you’ve explored colleges with your kids, you’ve been introduced to current successful students – college kids who are generally approachable, welcoming and friendly.  You tend to remember those colleges most favorably where the students you met treated you politely and with respect.

There’s a Liberty Mutual Insurance ad that I’ve seen recently that I really like that goes along with this thought of modeling kindness and inspiration. It first shows a mother pushing a child in a stroller. The child drops a toy and a man walking by picks it up and hands it back to the child, and the mother looks grateful. In the next scene the same mother is walking out of a coffee shop and when she sees a coffee cup perched precariously on the edge of a table, she quietly pushes the cup away from the edge. Someone happens to see that act and offers a hand to a man who has fallen. And so on and so on. As someone sees an act of kindness, they are inspired to act kindly to another. Now I know it’s an ad for an insurance company, but I still like the thought. And what I like about it is that it reminds us to do the right thing – to walk the talk – and that when we take that opportunity to be a model for others, it impacts the person right in front of us, and inspires them to model good things for others, and so on and so on.

You CAN be a model on the runway of your life. And you can create a ripple that will affect others in ways you cannot imagine.

Ghosts of Mondays Past

My dad died suddenly in January of 1998. After meeting my mom at the hospital that night 13 years ago and then taking her back to their home, mom’s overwhelmed mind fixated on the fact that someone needed to take the garbage down to the curb and my dad was not going to be able to do that anymore.

I remember it vividly. I walked the large can down to the curb, all the while looking up at a sky filled with stars. In the immediacy of my grief, they seemed huge and I felt so small.  I knew my mom would need help and that her care would fall largely to me.  I remember talking to the stars that night, promising my dad that I would look out for my mom.  Little did I know that in less than 15 months, I would also be adding the titles of widow and single mom to my job description. 

But, I never forgot.  And, with the help of my sisters and especially my two sons, I was able to keep that promise. We had several years of good times (and challenging times). When mom got older, she moved into an in-law suite built on to my home and spent her last several years enjoying her grandchildren’s choir concerts, band concerts and basketball games. When she lost her battle with lung cancer, my sisters and I were with her.
   
It’s Monday night here, the night folks on my street put out their garbage cans.  Since my dad's death, the walk down to the curb and back has been the time when thoughts of my folks are uppermost in my mind (longer strolls when it is warmer, and quick visits on cold nights like tonight!!).

During the last several months, I realize that the ghosts have lost their sadness.  More than that, they are no longer alone.

Meandering down and up the driveway each week, so many other important 5-minute snippets come to mind now too.  When my sons were younger, we tended to trundle the cart down together (even if there was only one cart to push).  How could I forget…

...my younger son, A, always having to be first back up the drive (it must be a youngest child thing!). No matter how hard I would try to fake him out, I was never ahead when it counted;

...on snowy nights, watching the boys and our (then much younger) border collie climb up the snow hills created when the driveway was plowed. Some nights the dog was too scared to climb back down without a push (or two);

...watching my older son, C, lope up the driveway and realizing for the first time that he was no longer a boy, but was well on his way to becoming a man;

...the boys hooting and hollering as they and the dog chased each other around the front yard in the spring and summer;

...having heart-to-heart conversations about life and death, more easily had when the darkness would hide the tears in our eyes; and

...realizing again and again that the only constellation I know for sure is Orion (thank goodness for the three stars in his belt!).

It's a great reminder that we are never alone. So, take a moment – embrace the ghosts who have walked with you, even during the most ordinary and unremarkable times in your life.

On Beyond Zebra - Thoughts on a 50th Birthday

A lifelong Seuss fan, I’ve come to think of my 50^th birthday today in terms of the Seussian classic On Beyond Zebra. As a youngster, 50 feels so far away and (well, let’s face it) nearer to death than to birth.   But, the literary nonsense in On Beyond Zebra reminds us to look beyond the confines of the ordinary alphabet.  I plan to use this birthday to look beyond the confines of my ordinary life.

I’ve met and married (and then suffered the loss of) the love of my life. Both my parents have passed beyond this life as well. I’ve had the pleasure and challenge of being a single parent, raising two kids while keeping a roof over our heads.  At times, I’ve wondered why I am not sitting in the corner, helpless.   I’ve imagined myself as the needy Melanie in Gone with the Wind – the back of my hand pressed against my brow exclaiming “Oh, Ashley” – and waiting for a knight in shining armor to come and rescue me.

If you can envision me in either of those last scenarios – then I am afraid you don’t know me very well.  :)

So, I’m 50.  I run my own business.  I have 2 terrific sons.  I don’t say that mindlessly or facetiously.  I have helped to raise two intelligent, capable and independent-thinking young men.  Now, at times, the independent-thinking part doesn’t seem quite as much fun, but it is important.  They are both embarked on their own paths – pursuing their own interests.  It’s taken me a little while to figure out that it is time to think about my next steps.  Continuing to focus solely on them isn’t good for any of us.  C is a 1L in law school and A is a sophomore working towards his undergrad degree (also thinking about law school).  My relationships with them have changed from need-oriented (although I hope they still need me just a little) to the more adult-parent to adult-child relationship I had hoped for.

I’m 50 already!??  Well, then I better get to it!

I will be attending my first out-of-town software workshop/conference ever in March (InfusionCon here I come!) and another personal workshop later this year in October.  I’ve made some changes in my business that reflect a movement into a new direction, and it already feels “right.” I have arrangements in place so that I can leave my home and dogs for a weekend and (gasp) the world does NOT end. 

So – On Beyond Zebra!  The first one to find a Thnadnus wins!!

"Back-to-School" Blues

There was the familiar screech of the schoolbus brakes on our street this morning as our district headed back to the first day of class.  Like many parents, it was a melancholy moment, but not in the way it has been for the last 16 years.

You see, I have joined the rank of "empty nesters", having just dropped off our youngest for his freshman year at Ohio Northern University.  Instead of chasing down folders and binders these last few weeks, we've been hitting the "dorm sales".  I sure don't remember all the hoopla about getting just the right thing for your dorm room when I was getting ready for college!  From coordinating the look between your comforter and area rug, to the latest in electronic technology, I must admit it has been much more fun shopping for college supplies than shopping for public school supplies.

But, I do think there's a special place in heaven for moms with boys.  I maintain that you haven't really experienced pain until you've gone sheet-shopping with an 18-year old guy! Items I suggested (strongly and repeatedly) early in the shopping season that were summarily dismissed were resurrected in the last days before A left.  So, the shower caddy that he didn't even want to talk about 3 weeks ago, now was elevated to a "must have" at the last minute.  I tried to be patient, realizing that although this might sound all exciting for "me" -- I wasn't the one who was packing up all my belongings and leaving everything I've known for the last 18 years and heading out into parts unknown.

The screech of the school bus brought all those "first days" back for me.  So, I've decided to stay in touch with the local school system in the best way I know.  Periodically, I'm going to stop in to my local OfficeMax and gather up some supplies and drop them off to our elementary school.  It goes hand-in-hand with my favorite gift for the graduating high school student going off to college.  I get a Rubbermaid type tub and fill it with office supplies (each individually wrapped in tissue paper of their school's colors) -- you know -- scissors, paper clips, tape, pencils, pens, folders, notebooks, staplers. This is the stuff that you always took for granted was just "there" at home when you needed it.  And, this stuff can get expensive!  When my recipient opens the gift, they are always a bit surprised.  But, invariably, I get a call from them that fall.  As they moved in that weekend, they realized they really needed an extension cord or doorstop and, sure enough, there was one in their graduation tub!  One of my favorite things to include in that graduation tub is a box of 24 Crayola crayons, with a note stuck to it that says "everyone needs a new box of crayons on the first day of school."

So, I've decided to make sure that lots of other local kids know they have the tools to succeed.  And, that people in their community care.  I will make sure there are several boxes of new crayons whenever I drop off supplies.  Because, everyone DOES need a new box of crayons on the first day of school.

Technology is just.... Cool!

Over the course of my lifetime, I've certainly witnessed a huge explosion in technology.  While earning my engineering degree, we would "compile" computer programs using punch-cards.  None of this personal computer, on-screen stuff.  I would listen in fascination to my husband's grandparents as they recounted life before television and interstate roads, air conditioning and washing machines.  Later in my life, I suspect I will be recounting similar stories to grandchildren amazed at how we survived without computer technology. For now, I continue to be amazed at today's technology and the ways in which it enriches everyday life.

My two sons have always been fairly close.  As they grew up, they bonded over being childhood friends and playmates, and through the tragedy of losing their dad. Their mutual love of computer technology and video games became an ongoing passion.  Both excellent students, they managed to find spare time for music, friends and the latest Nintendo or online game craze.

As my older son, C, headed off to college a few years ago, it was hard not to notice that my sons had grown a bit apart.  With one of them dealing with the challenges of college, and the other with feet still firmly planted in high school, they didn't have quite as much in common.  I knew they "talked" regularly online -- especially while playing some of the online games they both enjoyed. But, there was some distance in their relationship for the first time in my memory.

We've all read about how computers and video games can harm our young people.  I've always been a firm believer that computers and video games, in appropriate doses, do not cause harm and can actually be beneficial.  They encourage youngsters to read, learn to follow directions, and develop memory and problem-solving skills.  This past weekend, I discovered yet another benefit from this high tech age.

My older son, C, was home last week for several days to see his brother, A, before they both start their fall college studies.  For A, this will be his freshman year.  I noticed a bit more comeraderie between them during the last week, and was somewhat discouraged when it was time for C to head back east -- it seemed they had redeveloped some closeness during the visit, only to be separated again for the next several months.

A has recently been indoctrinated into the wonders of Rock Band (Nintendo Wii) and I was treated to several nights of their joyful noise while C was home. This evening, A was busily working around the Wii, and finished with a satisfied sigh, "There." He grabbed his Rock Band guitar and over his laptop I could hear C on voice (through Skype) as he linked up with A using his own Rock Band game and laptop.  Incredible.  I've enjoyed another evening of listening to them laugh and play together.  First, it's a good thing neither of them are planning to make a living as a rock musician. Second, their play is music to my ears.

Parenting and Letting Go... Like Flying a Kite

During the years when my sons attended pre-school, their teacher would share favorite stories and poems with parents.  My boys are both college men this fall, but the poem of “The Kite” still rings through my head from time-to-time. Now, I know to attribute its wisdom to Erma Bombeck.

I
see

children as

kites. You spend a lifetime

trying to get them off the ground.

You run with them until you're both breathless...

they crash...they hit the rooftop...you patch and comfort, adjust

and teach.  You watch them lifted by the wind and assure them that

someday they'll fly.  Finally they are airborne, they need more

string and you keep letting it out.  But with each twist of the

ball of twine, there is a sadness that goes with the

joy. The kite becomes more distant, and you

know it won't be long before that

beautiful creature will snap

the lifeline that binds

you together and

will

          soar

             as

                 it

                     is

                     meant

                to

          soar,

free

           and

                           alone.

Only then do you know that your job is done."

                               

                                                                                    Erma Bombeck

 

 

Although the premise of her original message rings true, I’ve added a section or two in my head.  For there are times when the winds that grab them is too strong, threatening to rip them away before they are ready. At these times, a parent determines whether to simply hold on to the string at the current length or maybe even wind it back in just a little closer, maintaining the kite’s freedom, but providing some steadiness until the crisis has passed. As the winds subside, the untwisting of the twine continues.

I’ve never really fully embraced the final stanza.  What parent wants to believe the lifeline must “snap” before the kite flies free and reaches its potential?  I think that will continue to be something I consider.  Since suddenly finding myself to be a widow with two grade school children over 10 years ago, I’ve carried my own personal mantra—committed to the goal that the unexpected loss of their dad would not destroy their futures as well.  “If I did my job right, our sons would embrace their own dreams, follow their own path wherever it leads, and build a life based on their own decisions.”  Hmmm, maybe I have embraced that final stanza after all.

“The Kite” has floated along with me these last few weeks.  Our older son will begin his final year as an undergraduate this September and is currently preparing his applications to grad school.  Our younger son will step into the life of a college freshman in just a few weeks.

I think I’ve done my job right.