Saturday, May 10, 2014

A Mother's Day Poem

I'm not really a poet, but I went ahead and wrote one anyway, last August...

Can’t Wait

I stumble through the dark to quiet your cries
Like clockwork, every two hours -  
sleep deprived.
Body worn, I let out a silent groan
Can’t wait till this baby can do it alone

Thirsty, hungry, tired, wet
on tippy-toes, fingers outstretched
I’ve got it, I say,
again and again
Can’t wait till this baby can do it alone

Run to the store – just a five-minute trip
Takes twice as long just to buckle him in.
Drags his feet down the aisles,
wants this and wants that.
Can’t wait till this child can stay home alone.

Herd of kids at the curb, run in to school.
Not him, though. Not yet.
He just shakes his head.
Late for work, I take his hand
Can’t wait till this child can walk in alone.

School years fly by with rushed dinners and sports
Nights filled with homework, forgotten chores.
Flash cards, science, frustrating sighs
History and spelling to memorize
Can’t wait till this child can do it alone.

First day of high school, a picture I can’t get
Our eyes meet for a moment: His roll, mine are wet.
Two years fighting traffic and waiting in line,
I need a clone - barely get there in time.
Can’t wait till this child can do it alone.

Son, do you have homework?
It’s already done.
What about that test?
97 percent.
Have a good day at school. I stand at the door

as he slides behind the wheel
of his brand new, old car.
Be careful, I say.
One last wave. A brave face.
Today, my baby will do it. Alone.

There are three beautiful reasons I get to celebrate Mother's Day every year. Each of my kids is unique, with talents and qualities I'm awed by daily. One is quiet but opinionated, with an amazing dry sense of humor that continues to catch me off guard. One wears his emotions on his sleeve, loves physical comedy and sticking up for those he cares about. One is independent, mothering, matter-of-fact, with a sense of humor that is a wonderful combination of the other two. I've always said that as a mom I just want to raise good people. It is my honor and privilege to get to raise three. As challenging as it may sometimes be, as tired and frustrated as I get, at the end of each day nothing brings me more peace than knowing all three of them are tucked safely into their respective beds, sleeping peacefully. 

These years go by so damn fast. Really. Everybody says that, don't they? Don't blink, because it'll pass you by? But oh, it's true. Watching them grow is bittersweet. I am wistful for the days of lulling them to sleep in the rocking chair, bending over their soft heads to breath in the powdery scent of them. 

But I digress. Knowing them as well as I do is such a pleasure. And if I'm blessed enough to get to watch them reach adulthood and make their dreams come true, well, then I couldn't possibly ask for more. I'm realizing this year just how precious the in between moments are. The college talks with my oldest. The funny stories my middle son shares with me. The way my little girl still looks at me like I'm the greatest thing in the world (all the sweeter because I know it won't last). 

C, J and E... Thank you. You have given me the gift of motherhood. And I am sure there is nothing better. I love you - each of you - MOST. More than you'll ever know. 

Monday, April 21, 2014

Raising Jackson: Love. Faith. And Words.

Sometimes all I have are my words. And lately, even these have failed me. When it rains, it pours, I guess.

I think the hardest thing about parenting is that we don't always have the answers. We can't always make it right. As much as we want to be the perfect parent. As much as we want the clarity to know exactly what to do or say, sometimes we just... fail. 

I think one of the things it is impossible to know unless you are a parent is that children are not "mini me's." They are people. Smaller, yes. But they are made with their own minds, their own hearts, their own ideals. A dear friend said to me the other night that when he was young, he had a very strong faith. Not just in God, but in life in general. When he hit the pre-teen and early teen years, he came to believe that nothing and no one could control him or his world, except for, well, him. And so, like many 14 year old boys he tried his best to control everything in it. And it wasn't until his mid twenties that he finally realized that there is actually very little we can control - the rest, well, it's not up to us. That's where the faith has to come back in.

So, as another friend says, I am tying knots and hanging on for dear life right now. Hoping upon hope that my son will come to that same realization. Eventually. Until then, I will love him from a place so deep inside, he can't even know. And I will pray. Because I have faith enough for both of us.

Have you ever felt so completely out of control that you weren't sure how to get by? I'll admit I am a bit of a control freak. It's difficult for me to let go. Not impossible. But difficult. It is a tight rope walk this parenting of young teens. I am tilting and tipping, arms spread wide trying desperately to find the balance between what I must control, and what is okay to let go. I've also been told many times - and I believe this - that when our kids are angry with us, it's a pretty sure sign we're doing a good job. This is not a time for being a "buddy" but a time for setting boundaries. 

But I digress. Lord knows it would be so much easier to just give in, to say "yes," to turn my head. I can't. And it's not because I need control. It's because I love him way too much. 

Jack and I are at a crossroads. He wants to go to the public high school next year, and I am adamant that he choose from among the private schools (I'm trying to give him some power here to make a choice, among approved options). My reasons why are many. And from years of experience, they are also sound. I know that this topic presents a heated debate - even among my dear friends. Of course there are exceptions to the rule, but I've weighed them myself. I was educated in the Catholic school system (2nd - 12th grades). My kids have attended both private and public schools. And I can tell you that for me - without a doubt - the money is well worth it.

This isn't just about academics. This is about respect. Community. Faith. Parental involvement. Character building. Teacher communication. Student to teacher ratio. Discipline. Every family is different. But I will fight for what I believe is right (not in general mind you, because every child is different, every child requires and desires different things) but for what is right for my son. Right now. For Jack, this is about girls. And what's familiar. And girls (I know, I know... he presents one hell of an argument).

So, let's talk about it, you and I. Have you made any big decisions for yourself or your kid(s) for which you had to fight? Have you stood your ground despite everyone around you disagreeing, shaking their head "no," rolling their eyes even? It's an uncomfortable feeling to stand alone with just my heart and my gut to support me. It sure would be easier just to give in. I'll be honest: I'm tired. And my sweet Jack is as stubborn as they come. But here's something else: he comes by it honestly. And I know where he gets it. ; )

Take my hand and stand with me up here, won't you? Just for a moment? Let me know that you, too, have been there, done that. That it's all going to work out just like it's supposed to. I'm struggling with my own words right now - Would you lend me some of yours...?

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Know Any Multitasking Moms?

A box came today. I opened the front door to get the mail and there it was. Nondescript. Leaned up against the pale yellow vinyl siding, casual-like. A pool of crack-ly leaves protecting it from the last cold gusts of winter. Maybe it had been waiting there a day or two, I don't know. We don't use the front door all that often.

I thought it might be the pants I'd ordered from Eddie Bauer for Connor. I have yet to find a store that sells a casual, slim fit khaki pant in 30/34. No one believes you can be that thin and that tall (I assure you, he comes by it honestly). So I order the 32/34 and then we have them tailored to fit.

But I digress. It wasn't the pants (where are they anyway? I ordered them a week ago!), but a box of books. Chicken Soup for the Soul books. I have a story published in one of their latest titles: "The Multitasking Mom's Survival Guide." This was a really difficult story for me to write and so I am at once proud and terrified of it. As a writer, I realize that the best writing comes from honest emotion. And I'm not talking about the fluffy "Hallmark" stuff. I mean the real. raw. feelings. It's difficult enough to admit our faults - especially as moms. But to admit them to the world at large? In words printed in a book and put on a shelf that can't be taken back? That's hard. But no false emotion, no faux difficulty is going to be worth reading, right? And so I wrote my truth. And it was tough. And it hurt. But, it worked. And maybe... some other mom out there who's going through her own tough time will read it and realize she's not alone. And that's exactly why I sent that story in. And maybe that's why they published it. Who knows.

But I digress (again). They did. And so it's in this book with 100 other great stories of moms who are juggling families and jobs and health issues and aging parents, and stress and... life. And I'm proud to be a part of it.

And I wonder - do you know a mom like this? Tell me about her, would you? I'd like to pick a few of these fabulous moms and send them one of the books. You can tell me in the comments, or shoot me an email at Make sure to include your email address - and hers.

Speaking of moms, I'm thrilled that a story I submitted has been chosen for the Listen To Your Mother auditions here in St. Louis. Next week, I'll be joining 39 other very talented women/writers/moms (among them an old friend from high school - shout out to Shannon Rooney Mette!) - to read my story aloud for the judges. Only 12 will be chosen to read at the live event, but hey - I'm thrilled to have made it this far!

We moms have stories to tell! What's yours? Chicken Soup is looking for Stories ABOUT Moms and Stories BY Moms (along with a few other titles). What are you waiting for? Check it out here.

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

That's Debatable

I have every intention of writing more frequently here, but the truth is, running a business is pretty damn time consuming. It just is. So if you're wondering why I've stopped writing... I haven't. I've just been busy writing for my business blog, writing feature articles, short stories and poems to submit for publication, oh... and raising three fantastic kids. It's full time - to the power of "Holy Crap I'm Busy!"

But, I haven't forgotten about my blogspot. And as soon as my muse fights for some space in my incredibly-shrinking brain, I'll be writing my heart out here, too. 

Oh, and since you're here, I'll Digress...

I watched a little bit of the Grammys the other night. I was shocked at all the uproar over the Macklemore song (which I just love, by the way) and the little wedding show. Correction: I was NOT shocked over the uproar. I fully understand that there are those who don't believe in marriage between two people of the same sex. I mean, that would really screw up everyone's lives, wouldn't it (oh, I forgot you can't hear the sarcasm... hopefully you picked up on it)?  What I WAS shocked about was that I haven't heard much at all about Beyonce and Jay Z's performance. Hey parents, this is a family show, isn't it????  How many of you watched with your kids sitting next to you on the couch? How many of you squirmed, or even fast forwarded through that overtly sexual, PG-13 (at best) rated performance? I did. Zipped right past it after Lady B spread her legs apart in that chair, circa Flashdance, 1983.  

I turned it off after that, and never did get to watch the wedding "ceremony," but I can tell you with complete certainty that if my eight year old daughter had been cuddled up with me on the couch watching that part, she may have asked why two men were getting married. And I'd have said, very simply, "Because they love each other. And love doesn't always happen between a boy and a girl" and left it at that.  

Now, the next night, I was curled up with her on the couch, and we were watching an episode of Good Luck Charlie and I had to laugh when two moms showed up with their daughter for a play date with Charlie. I could just picture some people turning the channel on the tv and swearing off that family-friendly show (good news for those folks, it's off the air very soon). Anyway, Ella DID ask me "how can she have two moms?" And I said, "Because that's her family. And there's all kinds of different families." 

And that was the end of it. 

Far easier than explaining why Beyonce' had her back arched and her legs spread wide, and was scantily dressed in front of millions of people. Although come to think of it, I would have said something along the lines of: "Well, honey, because some people believe that the only way to be well liked is to disrespect themselves, and isn't that sad? Because she's so talented but I guess she isn't confident enough to stand on her talent alone." Which would have been a great conversation starter between my daughter and me, and what society believes, yadda, yadda, yadda.

My point in all of this is that I'm curious about why people who believe that marriage is meant to be between a man and a women because it says so in the Bible (right. but it also says a man can stone his wife to death for almost any imaginable reason, and that slaves are perfectly acceptable), are okay with Beyonce whoring herself on stage. Or maybe not. Maybe they were just as upset about that. But the Christian singer that walked out? Now that's just funny. She can get up on a stage and sing about Jesus, and how he loves us all, and wants us all to be loving towards one another, but then she storms out of the building because two men are doing just that. Hmm. That's like all the Facebook posts about how you can only be saved if you find Jesus (Really? I'm feeling really sorry for my Jewish friends right about now). Well, come to think of it, maybe she just doesn't believe in the way they show their love (this is a family blog, so you'll have to read between the lines). Maybe that's the problem. Okay, so I suppose none of those heterosexual people have ever, um, "showed their love" that way?

But I Digress.  

I'm not saying that I agree with the wedding ceremony during the Grammys. As my oldest son wisely said, "that's about as fair as holding a pro-life rally during half time at the Super Bowl"). He has a point. It's not fair to force one set of ideas down the public's throat. It probably wasn't the time or place to hold a wedding ceremony. But hey, that's Hollywood. They love to think that because they're famous, they're smart, too. A few, yes. The majority? Well, you decide. 

Regardless of what side you agree with - on this or any other issue - let's not act like everyone who doesn't think like you is going straight to hell in a hand basket, okay? I know there are many who disagree with me. That's fine! And I know there are two sides to every debate. That's what makes it a debate.

Personally, I think being able to agree to disagree is a sign of intelligence. I feel sorry for close-minded people who refuse to hear any opposing position. I love a good debate, really I do. That doesn't mean I don't have an opinion, it just means I'm willing to hear it, think about it, and sometimes even (gasp) let it affect my own thinking. 

Speaking of which... I watched the latest Cheerios commercial via Yahoo today. I had no idea there was such an uproar regarding their last commercial featuring an interracial couple. I can remember a time when people would say it's just "not right" or "it's not fair to the kids." Have you seen how beautiful these children are? Their skin is absolutely beautiful. Now, this is entirely my own opinion, but looking at children of interracial couples, I can only think that God absolutely intended to make something so beautiful.

Well look at that... I guess I did have something to write about after all : )

Monday, December 30, 2013

Letting Go Is Hard

Last night, I left my daughter with my oldest son and his girlfriend to drive my middle son to his friend's house to spend the night. I hopped in the car and suddenly, out of nowhere, started to tear up. What it was I couldn't name right then. But I knew the feeling. It was the feeling of losing. Of having to let go. Jack is very perceptive and picked up on my mood right away. "You okay mom?"
"Yeah. I don't know. I guess."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong, really. I'm just... you guys are just... growing up really fast."
"Oh. Like Connor has his girlfriend over, and I'm going to my friend's...?"
"Yeah. Exactly. Silly, huh?"
"No. I'm still your little boy."
He hugged me then, before jumping out of the car, with all the confidence of a successful adult.
I allowed a few of those tears to fall in the few minutes I spent alone in the car on the way back home.

Letting go is hard.

I remember being sixteen. I had no clue - just no idea whatsoever - that my mom might have been going through growing pains of her own in my growing up and away. I was so very immersed in my own world. A typical, selfish teen, finding her own place, her own way. My friends were my world. Where did she fit?

And today, where do I fit in my boys' respective worlds? I hate to think I'm just the dictator. The homework task master. The rule enforcer. The dinner-maker and clothes washer. I would so much prefer to be the confidant, the friend, the wise woman they might look up to. Hey - check out our mom - ruler of her own universe - business owner, healthy, boot-camping, Insanity-crushing warrior!

Letting go is hard.

And not just as a parent. As a lover. A friend. A partner. Knowing when to let go is painful in itself. Trusting the instinct, even when everything looks great "on paper." When we know in our hearts, from somewhere deep inside maybe we can't even explain - it just "is" - we have to learn to trust that, and know that it's enough. It is enough.

Or when your heart wants so much to hold on, but your head knows. Your head knows that it is time. Beyond time, maybe, to say goodbye. But I digress.

Letting go is hard.

I just finished a beautifully written novel by John Green called "The Fault In Our Stars." How, I still wonder, right in this moment, how did he write that novel? How did he flesh out those characters? How? Because it seems so easy - for him. I am dually touched and tormented by this heart breaking book. Not just because it is sad - which it is. But because it's so honest. It's so real. Yes of course the author Hazel admires is a jack ass. Certifiable. Of course he is. Because only in a cheesy, Harlequinn romance or sappy Danielle Steele book would he be a true keeper of dreams. A hero. It's just not real. Real life hurts.

So does letting go. It hurts. And it is hard.

But if we do it correctly, with love and respect, then maybe the pain will be worth it in the end.
Because I believe that you learn more about a person at the end of a relationship than you ever could at the beginning.

How do you handle the letting go? It can be a painful, angry slice of the wrist. Or it can be agonizing and slow, but beautiful in its own way. It may hurt more to let it happen gradually, to feel the hurt. To understand the reasons and just be okay with it all. But, just as raising our kids, and then watching them slowly, sometimes painfully, learn their own way, we can look back and know we did the right thing. We can't hold on forever, but maybe we don't have to completely let go. There are bound to be stops and starts, bumps in the journey. But it's all a part of the life we're living. And someday we'll look back and smile through our tears and remember it all. The good, the bad, the heartbreak and the joy.

And maybe, just maybe, these children I worry about constantly and love more deeply than I can say will one day look at me and be grateful. And know that deep, crazy love I have for them. And they'll be better for it. Smarter. Successful. Happy.

Letting go is hard.

But maybe it's not forever.