Stages

No one told me about this stage in life.  The one where your heart kind of swells with pride, practically explodes with love, and then also breaks slowly all at the same time.  No one talks about that. The stage when your children start moving from the “Mom, hug me! Hold me!” Stage, to the “I need my space.”

When I first got pregnant, I heard all about the morning sickness possibilities.  I was given advice about making sure to walk a lot and the right things to eat and foods to avoid.  So I prepared and I planned. Finally the moment comes and I am given this absolutely perfect baby in my arms.  My life before that moment was completely forgotten. Nothing else mattered looking into those eyes.

The advice follows me with the birth of my babes.   A longer list of do’s and don'ts. With every stage of the younger years, terrible two’s, potty training, starting school, I heard advice.  Everyone had opinions, and in a way it made me feel better because it helped navigate my uncharted ocean. I could always see land, so I was grounded even when the seas got rocky.  No one told me though, about the letting go bit. No one told me about what to do when my kids start growing up and maybe don’t need me quite as much as they used to. No one warned me about that mix of emotions.  The hurt for myself, excitement for them and pride in them. Maybe because it’s different for everyone. Or maybe because it’s truly hard to explain all the emotion or give advice for this stage. You just have to experience it.  

The closing of the school year, floods our facebook pages with graduation caps and gowns.  Faces of proud mommas and daddy’s, and hope in the eyes of their children. Little ones moving from the pond of elementary school diving into a new place with much bigger fish.  Lots of firsts come with the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another. As a parent, it’s blessing to be a part of every stage. It’s been an even bigger blessing to have a team of people stand by you when any amount of words or advice doesn’t really help.

As my son enters high school next year, and my daughter middle school, I feel a mixture of emotions.  These are uncharted waters. I no longer truly control the direction of the boat. I now have two co-captains with opinions and dreams, and they to want to sail their own boat.  They have their own path to explore and conquer. I will be okay to sail beside them. Maybe even sometimes behind them. I have no other choice. They know I will be there when they need me, just like I know I have people to pick me up when I’m struggling, or a friendly ear for listening.  The sea is too big to handle alone after all.

~Esmeralda

Collected Wisdom

By:  Susan

My friend Estela used to tell me: Déjate querer, which in English means “let yourself be loved”.  She would say it when I would refuse her offer of help, while carrying a baby in one arm, stirring the pot with the other hand and holding the phone between my shoulder and ear.  What she meant by it was:  “Let others show you their love by being of service to you.  Yes, we all know you can do a lot all by yourself, but let us feel like we can be productive and helpful too.” 

Estela had other wise words.  As a matter of fact, I have had the blessing of knowing many wise people who have left me with words and thoughts that I use often in my own life and share with others.  Here is a sample of the wisdom I have collected so far:

1.  On good mothering:  One afternoon at around 6:00 pm I finished a batch of chocolate chip cookies and offered them to the children gathered at my house for a play date.  When I realized how close to dinnertime it was, I apologized to the other moms and said:  “What kind of a mother serves cookies to children right before dinner?”  Estela said: “Children need happy mothers, not perfect ones.” I wish I could go back and be a happier mother!  Now that my children are grown, I realize that no amount of mess and disorder is worth making a fuss over.  I wish I had asked myself what legacy I wanted to leave: happiness or an organized sock drawer.

2.  On having tough conversations:  My father used to say: “It’s best to turn red once than to pale over and over.”  In other words, it’s better to tell people the unpleasant truth and get it over with than get a knot in your stomach every time the subject comes up. 

3.  On dealing with tantrums:  My mother believes that some people need to be told to just cut it out when they are having a melt down, while others are really asking for a hug.  And this is not only for two year olds.  It is not a sign of weakness to just hold a person and sympathize with their inability to deal with the current frustration.  There will be plenty of time for reflection and guidance when the storm has passed.

4.  On judging character:  My friend Andrea says: “When people show you who they are, believe them.” Good advice for when you are blinded by love.  Seeing the good in people doesn’t mean you ignore the fact that we are all battling with some flaw in our character. 

5.  On the passage of time:  My other friend Carolyn likes to say that time passes whether you sign up for that four year graduate program or not, so you might as well do it.  Four years ago seems like yesterday sometimes.  Imagine if we had done all the things we wanted to do but put them off because they seemed to take such a long time.

My favorite words comes not from a person I know but from a character in a movie.  In The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, the character Sonny likes to say: “Everything will be all right in the end... if it's not all right then it's not yet the end.”  

What are your favorite words of wisdom?  Share them, so I can add them to my collection.

Not Such a Failure After All

The pain in my throat made it very difficult to swallow as I tried my hardest not to cry.  We were on our way home and the ambiance in the car was cheerful and lighthearted to everyone but me.  We had a lot of fun things going on during the weekend, and it was Friday, which meant that the mood was relaxed.  I knew it was going to happen.  The dam could only hold so much against the pressure that was coming at it, and I put on my sunglasses to mask the eruption that was about to happen.  Had we been outside it wouldn’t have mattered.  The rain coming down could have camouflaged the tears that were now streaming down my face. 

            How could it be?  Another failure.  Another check on my long list of insecurities and inadequacies.  I knew that I would be great at this new position because it involved something I cared so passionately about.  Was I wrong?  That was the question that circled around in my head after the call that left me wondering, what is wrong with me.  Why am I not good enough?  When am I ever going to catch a break?

            The harsh rain only added to my frustration, as the traffic now became worse.  All I wanted to do was get home, cover myself with a blanket and hide.  Another wave of tears made its way to the corners of my eyes, but were stopped before the downpour.  I felt a warm, gentle touch on my arm.  I looked over at my son who was watching me with a concerned look on his face.  I hadn’t realized that the sunglasses could only hide so much of my disappointment, and he was witnessing something other than the strong momma I liked to portray in front of them.

            “Mom, are you okay?” he said genuinely worried.

            “Yes, I am fine,” I said in a convincing voice. 

He kept looking at me, and then said, “Mom, God has a plan for everything. It’s going to be okay.”

            My little man had no clue about what was going on.  He only saw that his mom was upset about something, and used the words I have used so many times with him.

            Sometimes things don’t always work out.  I know this.  I’m a teacher and a mother.  Unpredictability is kind of part of the job description for both.  But I had taken the “failure” and turned it into an attack against myself.  I saw it as a problem, and made a list of things that were wrong with me, instead of trusting that God has a plan, like I had prayed just that very morning.    Life isn’t always going to give us what we want, and it’s essential to me that my kids know how important it is to keep moving forward after a setback.  Hearing those words come out of my son’s mouth made me feel like not quite so much a failure, and even though the sun didn’t shine much the rest of the weekend, it didn’t rain on us at all.

~Esmeralda

            

Parenting Grown Ups

By: Susan 

My third child just left for college.  Now I have three children that are technically, and for all practical purposes, adults.  And in my experience, parenting adult children does not get any easier.  I find myself looking for as much guidance as when I had newborn babies and didn’t know what to do with them.  I lay awake at night and think about their lives, their happiness and their choices.  This is way worse than been kept awake by toddlers who wanted to watch Toy Story in the middle night of the night.  One book I read was called Walking on Eggshells, and I have to say that is a very apt description of parenting adults.  The main advice from that book was: “Shut you mouth and keep the door open.”  It is easier said than done, especially the shutting your mouth part.  As much as I try,  I can’t seem to be able to restrain myself from wanting to know that they are safe and happy at all times.  So I call and text often, asking:   “where are you?” “Did you make it home alright?” and “Are you ok?”  (My son wrote a song about that one, warning me not to ask if he was ok.)  Technology has been a great help.  I have all four of them on the Find My Friend App (with their permission, of course) and now can tell whether they have made it home all right.  When they travel, Kayak is my friend.  I can track their flights and even help them find their gates better than the airline personnel.  Last December, both my older son and daughter were traveling separately to other countries.  There were delayed flights and lost luggage and I was using my iPad, my phone and my computer to track everything.  My brother made fun of me and my “command center”.  I try not to say things that they probably already know and have thought about.  But often doubt creeps in:  What if they don’t know they shouldn’t leave the dryer running when they leave the house, or that they need to click that button to pay their tuition with financial aid before the deadline. 

What helps keep me in line is that I am myself the adult child of my mother.  I know that she is trying her hardest to adjust to being the mother of two adult children.  She has been trying for over 30 years!  Which makes me think that maybe it is the way it is.  I know that when my mother calls me to recommend a solution to a problem, a remedy for an illness or a warning to prevent a catastrophe, she is doing it out of love and concern and not because she thinks I am incompetent.  I hope my children know that too. 

The other piece of adult parenting advice I heard was at the recent parent orientation I attended at the University of Texas.  Dr. David Laude, the Dean of Student Affairs, after sharing his own personal story, told us to “be there when it matters.”  I know for sure that my mother was there when it mattered most to me, which was after the birth of every one of my four children.  I lived out of the country and each time I was about to deliver a baby, she would come and stay at least a month with us and do what no one else could.

I have always respected my children’s intelligence and wisdom, even when they were small children.  So I don’t worry about them because I think they can’t take care of themselves; I worry because there is so much uncertainty in this world.  I hope that I can be there for them when it matters.  There is no question that the door will always be open for them.  I cannot, however, make any promises about keeping my mouth shut.

Once a Mom, Always a Mom by Carolyn

Have you ever noticed that all moms seem to do certain things? You might think that they all go to Mommy School to learn to do these things, but that is not the case. In the absence of formal training, I speculate that these mommy-actions are instinctual, flowing down through thousands of years, multitudes of generations, of mommies. What I find fascinating is that these mommy-behaviors continue long after the need for them has grown and left the nest.

For instance, I have been known to throw my arm across the front of a passenger (even a full-grown adult) who is riding in the front seat to keep the passenger from flying through the windshield when I have had to step on the brakes a teensy little bit too hard. It is an embarrassing moment, but the response is completely beyond my control.

I have also noticed myself, more than once, swaying gently back and forth when someone in my presence is trying to placate a fussy baby, just as I did many years ago when I was trying to pacify my own crying infants. My swaying efforts are of no help whatsoever in calming the whimpering infant in someone else's arms (and I'm sure I look a little silly), but still I sway. I may even hum a tiny bit.

Remember when your children were small, and you licked your fingertip to wipe something off their faces? I would guess that you continued doing that long after they were capable of cleaning messes off their own skin, and that they did not tolerate it well. Even worse, have you ever unthinkingly wetted the tip of your finger and without thinking it through, extended it toward the face of a person who was not even your own child, just to wipe off that little something on the chin? How embarrassing!

I have also noticed that we moms often bus the tables for everyone in our group when we dine out at casual restaurants. We automatically grab each other's used napkins and empty plates to take them to the trash. If someone spills at the table, we all simultaneously jump up to go get more napkins. I guess we develop the habit of taking care of our own families at the dinner table (because no one else does it), but the instinct persists even when it isn't needed.

We moms also tend to carry everything that anyone might possibly need in our bags. Notice what happens when someone sneezes or begins to cry. We all reach into our purses and pull out tissue. Does someone need a button sewn back on? Let me pull out my emergency sewing kit. Going out into the sun? Here is some sunscreen I just happen to be carrying with me.  Have a splinter? I have some tweezers right here, just for such an occasion. Bandaid, anyone?

Sometimes we have to stifle our mommy-ness. Many, many, many times, I have wanted to correct the behavior of someone else's child, even when the parent is in close proximity. On such occasions I have to remember that my opinion of what is proper is not shared by everyone. It is very difficult to bite my tongue when screaming and tantrums erupt or uncontrolled whirling dervishes run circles around me, but I try. I'm usually successful.

We might also want to stifle our mommy urge when we are preparing for a car trip. It is okay, and probably wise, to ask your own small children if they have used the restroom before they get into the car. It is not acceptable, and not well-received, to ask your husband, grown child, parent, sibling, or friend the same question!

I am a little worried that when I have grandchildren, I will be overcome by those instinctual mommy actions, and try to do too much. I will try to restrain myself and leave the mommy-ing up to my daughters-in-law, but I suspect it will be very difficult. Keep a close eye on me, and remind me that I don't have to be the mommy - I get to be the grandmother instead!

-Carolyn

Comrades in Mothering

Mother’s Day is coming up and I am missing my comadres.  I am talking about my three best friends who shared in the first eleven years of parenting with me.  The first one was Nicola.  She was a German girl who had come on vacation to Venezuela, met a Venezuelan doctor, married and stayed. I saw her first at my Lamaze class but kept running into her at different places around the small town where we both lived.  One day I went to pick up a friend who needed a ride to the grocery store.  She lived in a fourteen story high-rise where neither the elevator nor the call buttons worked regularly.  I honked my horn from the parking lot and when someone waved from the balcony of what seemed like the floor where my friend lived, I waved back.  But instead of my friend Helene, it was Nicola who came down.  Surprised, she asked how I knew where she lived.  I told her I didn’t.  It turned out that her apartment was one floor below Helene’s.  Soon we began taking our toddlers to swim lessons and spending time together as friends.

About the same time, the couple that owned the stationary store next to our computer business, who were expecting their first baby, started inviting us over for dinner.  When Margarita was born, our daughter Miranda became her first and best friend.  

For several years I maintained separate friendships with Nicola and Edi.  When Margarita was in preschool, she met a little girl whose family had just moved from Caracas.  Edi brought Estela over one day and we instantly connected with her.  She was funny and a free spirit.  The three girls loved playing together, although every once in a while one or the other would come crying that she was not given the right accessory in their dress-up game or was not allowed to be the right princess in the Disney story that was being acted out.  But all and all, they played well together and by now Edi had a little boy who became best friends with my son Safaa. 

Then came time to make that crucial, life-altering decision that every parent must face: Which school should I choose for my precious first born.  As the mother of the oldest child in the group the heavy responsibility was on my shoulders to find the best school in town and then recommend it to my friends.  A brand new, air-conditioned private school with a swimming pool opened right behind the building where I lived.  I enrolled Miranda in first grade.  The owner should have given me a commission.  Edi and Estela signed up their girls for kindergarten and Nicola, who by now had three boys, registered the older two as well.  And that’s how all four families became connected. 

We spent almost every weekend together.  We helped each other with transportation and baby-sitting. We were present at each birthday party and school performance.  The girls all did ballet. The boys learned to play instruments.  I became the official cake baker and costume sewer of the “family”.  

At some point we started celebrating Mother’s Day together.  Edi’s husband, Ziegler, took this picture of the four us. 

We all framed it and displayed it somewhere in our homes.  Visitors always asked if we were sisters.  And without any hesitation we would reply yes.  For me, who had always wanted a sister, they are the closest thing to one, even though I had to travel through two continents to find them.

Once a week us mothers would get together for coffee and bare our souls.  We would reassure one another that none of our children were permanently damaged by the mistakes we were making and that our husbands were perfectly human, despite their flaws. Estela and I became pregnant at the same time; third one for me, second for her.  Of all four of us, I was the only one who went on to have a fourth baby.  Edi and Estela stayed with two. 

Others would try to penetrate our little circle and we were a welcoming group, but there was something special about the four of us.  We were our true selves with each other.  Each one of us was unique in her own way.  We had different interests and different temperaments but like true sisters we loved each other despite these differences.  I think what united us was motherhood.  We were comrades in the trenches of child rearing.  We learned from each other, supported one another and comforted whoever was feeling doubt at the moment.  There is a kinship that is created among people who raise children together.  It transcends blood and familial relationships.  Young mothers need other young mothers to reassure them that really none of knows what she is doing.  We can’t really admit that to our mothers or mother in laws.  We walk this rocky path together and try to be as much help to each other as we can. 

The day I left Venezuela, everyone showed up at the airport.  As tearfully I said goodbye to Edi, Estela and Nicola I knew that my life would never be the same without them. 

And every Mother’s Day I am reminded of that. 
-Susan