Tag Archives: growing up

The Courtship

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They met on Facebook. Then texting, finally talking on the phone.

I was kept updated as things progressed. As she went from hundreds of candidates, to one.

They had so  much in common. Went to the same concert once, sat in the same row. Was it fate??

Both embarking on a journey, deciding if they want to share the experience.

Finally. It was time to meet.

They met at my house, and drove together from here. Big smiles and “hello’s” all around before they left.

And then the waiting.

A text update to me during a bathroom break..”I’m so nervous!”

More updates later: “We went shopping and now we’re at Mitchell’s. We’re bonding, I think this is going well.”

Dancing around the BIG QUESTION…. feeling each other out.

And then, it happened.

“Mom, we’re rooming together!”

She picked a roommate for college. They picked each other. With wide and hopeful smiles, they then moved to picking out all the things they are going to do to their dorm room, to make it “theirs.”

I swear this was more stressful than a first date. At the end of the night, I felt like we should be announcing an engagement…..it felt so HUGE.

And it was, wasn’t it??

The becoming that happens to us

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dddda

You are 17 “and a half”, as you like to remind me.

As if being 18 will make you a real adult.

Not 18, not 20, not 28……

I think real adulthood settles in somewhere in the 30’s, I FINALLY feel like I’ve gotten there. But probably 15 years from now I’ll be thinking how I still didn’t have a clue back then….. when I was just 39.

I think a lot about how much I’ll miss you, because again, you like to remind me how soon you’ll be leaving. Off to college, adventure, LIFE.

You laugh at me because I finally start tearing up every time we talk about it, when before I was just on your case about not missing deadlines and getting all those college visits scheduled.

Of course I love you. But I have grown to really, really like you. The person you are. I dread you being gone from my day to day routine. I feel sad for myself, and for everyone that will have to put up with me after you leave.

I was driving home today, thinking about how people become parents, and more specifically how women become moms.

You are the person who first made me a mom.

When did I start to FEEL like a mom?

It wasn’t when you lived inside of me or even  just after having you. I wanted you, I loved you, but I can look back now and say no, I didn’t feel like a mom yet.

I grew into it, as you grew.

We reached milestones together, mine as your mother, and yours as a growing child. My self consciousness as a parent gone by the time you hit preschool….and I fought with anyone who would dare stop you from hugging your friends goodbye, or from keeping chapstick in your backpack.

I became strong for you, from being your mom.

I’m still becoming, I don’t think we ever really stop. And again, you have been the catalyst for so many of the things I have become… A mom, the mom of a teenager, soon to be the mom of a child who has grown up enough to leave home…and one day the mom left at home as the rest of your siblings follow you.

And I like to believe the things I tell you about our relationship. How it will change as you grow older, and right now I know you are so ready to get away…but that eventually you will come back. I tell you how close we will be, even closer. I believe this, and want you to believe it too.

You are becoming independent, and I know I’ve pushed a bit lately, worried I’ve sheltered you too much and wanting to make sure you can handle it alone…ordering pizza by yourself and making your own appointments…buying your own tampons. (Alright, we both know I’m going to send you care packages with all that stuff plus chocolate…). But still, being away is going to be so new and exciting…that for a while I am going to become more of an obligation. You will HAVE to call your mom, you will HAVE to spend time with us on breaks from school…you won’t need me the way you did before.

But time has this way of going on…and as you are becoming an adult, a wife, a mom, I will be there right along with you. Becoming your friend, a mother-in-law, a grandmother…

I am so grateful for this journey, and for having you to share it with me.

The joy of having a 13 year old

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jake6jakejjakej5

Truly, an unparalleled experience.

This is the second time I’ve had a 13 year old. I have 2 more to go after this one.

There are just so many amazing and wonderful things that go along with this age. Some things I remember from my first child at that age, and some new things I am just learning. For instance…

There is a need to be right, and always have the last word. It’s not even a need to be right, who am I kidding. He’s right. that’s IT. I just NEED to accept it.

There is a potential argument for everything. Because he is always right. And by speaking to him, I might somehow be questioning his awesome rightness, so he must assert himself yet again.

the whole idea of good personal hygiene is still a bit hazy….the need to take a shower after football practice does not strike him as urgent, although the rest of us are gagging every time he comes close to us and begging him to clean himself.

Deodorant is still considered optional.

He will still take walks with me and the little kids to get ice cream, and even pull the wagon without embarrassment.

If he is required to make his bed and keep his room clean, I have no right to expect him to help vacuum the living room. because that is borderline abuse. And the start of a text argument.

He plays amazingly well with the 4 year old, then fights with the 4 year old, then gets mad at me because I expect one of them to be more mature than the other in these situations. Apparently the 4 year old should know better.

He still lets me kiss him goodnight, and tells me he loves me.

hairy legs and baby face. (him…not me)

All discussions (arguments) will end in me losing. Because no matter how wrong I believe he is….. he simply reminds me that  I am the one who chose to bring him into the world. And since he couldn’t have done anything bad if he didn’t exist…..that clearly makes everything my fault. (he’s a philosopher.)

He will be a man…tomorrow. But still clings to his childhood today, as do I. The day I can’t excite him with some fake tattoos or bubble tape will be a sad one indeed.

school sucks

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samschool14

 

Oh. Look! There he is.

First day of “real” preschool. Ready to face the world.

Ready to make more friends. Ready to color inside the lines…… ready to LEAVE ME!!!!!

Oh. God. School sucks.

You would think after sending two others down this same path, I would be better with it.

Actually, I think BECAUSE of that, I am NOT better with it.

Look, right now, this kid love ME the most. It all starts and ends with me. Me and him. Us. I mean, yes, I also have this bond with the baby….because like him, she doesn’t know any better. But the older ones, it’s over for me with them. And if I had to pinpoint a time that the separation started…… it was when they started that damn school. Now, well, they laugh at me. Usually, behind my back. But sometimes to my face.

They know…. and he will soon know…. that Mommy doesn’t really control the world.

And that is the beginning of the end.

I just want more TIME!  And it’s crazy because after starting him in this school, my husband and I are panicked that he is already “behind” because we heard about a girl his age already reading at a first grade level. His class will be assessed this month and then the teacher will let us know how he falls within that class at conferences. I feel like I need to cram with him, all the while wanting to keep him home to myself and damn those stupid letters and numbers!

He will make friends. he will color inside the lines. He will leave me.

Never again will I be the beginning and the end for him. Sure, it won’t happen in a day. But it will START to happen, and then continue, snowballing with each grade level. He will question me…..question ME!! Can you even imagine? And just because I tell him something, he soon won’t automatically believe it. He will start to doubt me, and think maybe I don’t know everything. He may even talk about me. Actually complain about me to his friends. Laugh at me too…..

But today, he’s still mine. And I looked into those big eyes, as he talked all excitedly about his day…. and I could not help but smile at his happiness. And then smile 5 minutes later as he passed out in the car, exhausted from his new experience.

sammysleep

He is mine. My special boy, my preschooler, no one will ever love him more.

And if he likes his teacher too much, she will be punched.

kidding. kind of.

Friendly advice

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So my daughter dropped a bomb in my lap yesterday, there is a boy she wants me to meet.

She didn’t want to tell me because “she knows how I get” about this stuff…… but she already told her dad about him…because he is the cool parent, and believes no bad choices can be made by his children.

I’m already angry with her for lying. Never before has this boy been mentioned, yet somehow they have spent enough time together to cultivate a relationship. Now she wants me to meet him so they can move forward in some way. I KNEW something was up when suddenly she is dressing up and putting makeup on before just hanging out with her best friend. But my questions about what is she doing, where is she going, who is she with failed to bring forth any mention of this boy.

Her response? Well, they’ve been texting a lot… and she went to a couple of his softball games….and you know they didn’t initially plan to see him but other plans fell through and so you know this was just kind of something that “happened” so innocently.

And this is the part that I suck at. Because I can’t tolerate being lied to. I can’t tolerate thinking of my daughter being fully or semi-naked with a boy….and what really is the POINT of going out with someone at that age if not to experiment with things that require a lack of judgment and clothing. And I just don’t think she needs a boyfriend.

I called a friend to vent a little. She listened, and gave me some friendly advice.

“Better go and get her on the pill.”  WHAT? No, I’m not putting her on the pill. Why does this mean she’s going to have sex!  She always tells me how stupid the kids she knows are for having sex! She doesn’t WANT to have sex! This was met with a laugh, because apparently that’s what kids do when they want to have sex but don’t want their parents to know they want to, or are already having sex. According to my friend, they put the spotlight on a friend so you can focus on that horrible person, and never think that your own sweet child is doing the same thing!!!!!  My friend knows this, because she did this herself.

So I’m really uncomfortable right now.

I don’t want to be that ignorant mom who can’t face what is going on. But am I stupid for believing what my daughter claims to think and feel about things when we talk? I have been so proud of her for not being like kids her age who are smoking, drinking, doing drugs, having sex. She talks about the girls in school that she knows are sleeping around, she brings home gossip about who got pregnant, who had an abortion, who got expelled for coming to school drunk.  These conversations have ended with me feeling so thankful that she hasn’t been tainted by the things that happen around her, and I’ve always thought she had a good head on her shoulders.

Am I stupid?

According to my friend…yes.

I was pretty ignorant about what was going on around me in high school. Friends that ended up having sex made me feel that I needed to save them from their low self esteem, because surely that’s the only reason they turned to a boy for that kind of attention. They must have just not felt loved enough. Or so I thought. It wasn’t until many years later that I realized I was probably the odd one, the one not having sex.

Stories my ex husband told me about when HE was in high school made me realize how sheltered I was, and naïve.

Other friends have shared their own stories of being a teenager….things they did.

One friend was raped by her boyfriend several times. She cried through it, but didn’t stop it….this was the first person she had sex with and it almost seems that she just didn’t know what to do about it.

Another friend was curious about things that boys and girls do together…. so she suggested to a co-worker that they team up and use each others bodies for training purposes. Duh, what do you think HE said??

Most of my friends have had some sexual experiences by the time they were my daughters age. I think I am the only one I know who had ONLY been kissed by then. Once or twice.

I want to cry.

I know too many people that have had abortions. Too many people that have had STD’s.

I don’t want that for my daughter. And I don’t want her to feel, as I think she does, that she needs the attention of a boy to really feel like she is worth something. This is not how I raised her. But this seems to be how it IS for so many kids at her age. She has talked about wanting a boyfriend, wanting to know that someone cares about her and finds her special and beautiful. I get this, I know those feelings, I was her age once.

I want her to feel that melting heat when you kiss someone you are crazy about. That fluttering in your stomach when you picture his face, or even whisper his name to yourself. I want her to feel giddy with happiness when she looks across the table into the face of the man she loves with all her heart, knowing he loves her too.

But I really, really doubt she is going to find that person now, at age 17. Instead, she is more likely to find a boy an insecure as she is. Curious about what sex feels like. Wanting to feel like they are grown up and special, and invincible…. and ready and able to spread HPV like it’s going out of style.

I’ve gotten a lot of advice. Friendly advice about how to handle this part of growing up.

But I’m not just putting her on the pill. I just can’t do that. And I don’t think she wants me to do that. I want to believe she still isn’t ready for that.

I will talk with her. I will talk and I will listen. I will pray.

I guess this is where I have to put some faith in her, and God, and myself for being hopefully a good enough parent to her.

I know she will make mistakes. I just don’t want them to be the kind that alters the course of her life, or limits the opportunities she has. I know I can either drive her away or bring her closer to me with my actions. I am hoping for the latter. I love her so much, and I just want to fast forward through this part of parenting. I know I can’t force my beliefs INTO her head and heart. But at the same time I don’t think I need to give her the message that “I know you’re going to have sex, so here’s the pill.” I hope I know my daughter well enough to guide my decisions about what to do with her. My friend, at her age, was having sex. And lying to her parents about it easily. I hope I’m not that parent.

So we are going to talk, a LOT.

And time will tell.

 

 

Me and Charlie

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Charlie has been in my life since I was three.

For many years he slept with me at night, and kept watch over my room during the day. He did spend some time in a box, but right now is living on a shelf in my closet.

Last night, as I walked past him, I stopped and looked into that face. I picked him up and smelled him, and said “Hi” for the first time in a long time. I thought about all the years we’ve shared together, all the secrets of mine that he knows and will never tell…and how much we’ve both changed since that day so many years ago when he came into my life.

I had just had my tonsils out. I’m pretty sure the whole experience was traumatic because I still have vivid snippets of memories from that time. My dad came to the hospital, bringing with him a stuffed raccoon. He was not too big or small, his face looked so aware and interested in what I had to say, and his tail was long and striped. I don’t know how I picked his name, but it was the perfect name for him.

The nurses made him a bracelet for his tail that said “Charlie, Kimberly’s friend.” He is still wearing it. Well, most of it. There was an unfortunate incident with a Chihuahua about 17 years ago…… and the paper inside of the plastic band was eaten.

Before I met Charlie, I was not a kid that was attached to any particular object. I didn’t carry about a blankie, I didn’t have any special toy or stuffed animal that I loved. Maybe it was because he came at a very vulnerable time for me, whatever the case Charlie became my best friend.

I’ve spent time over the years holding him, playing with him, crying into his fur, telling him how much I HATE my parents (sorry guys…), and how nobody understands me. He slept with me for many, many years. He became a fixture.

I got older, got married, had kids. I moved here and there. Charlie spent time on shelves, then in boxes, back on shelves. He wasn’t thought about for a long time, but he wasn’t truly forgotten.

It wasn’t so long ago that I brought him back into my room, to keep watch over the closet for me. I’m protecting him from the kids, there is no way they are going to hurt my Charlie. He’s gotten so much older, his seams are showing, and fur is a dull gray-no more stripes on his tail. His name bracelet from the hospital is yellow with age, and the paper is gone but I can’t bear to take it off.

I love him. I really do. He is so much more than a stuffed animal to me, because of all he has shared with me over the years. I grew up with him! I expect he will stick with me for as long as I will have him around.

I think he reminds me of my youth, and how fast it’s going too. Whose kidding….it’s gone!

Sometimes I feel guilty for keeping him in a closet, but I’m pretty sure if he survived the children attempting to play with him, that my husband would not appreciate those glassy eyes staring at him while he slept.

Seriously though, how could he resist that face?

charlie

My girls, at the beginning and the end.

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Today, my first baby turned 17.

myray97

This is when she was just a couple months old…if that.

meandray 5-2014

And this is us today…. she is bigger than me now!

I have one year left at home with this one, before she heads off to college. I know I won’t be close to having an empty nest yet….but she will be sorely missed as a daily presence in my life. She has magically grown into this….person….who I have come to depend on in so many other ways than simply as a child, the first of four.

she is coming to the end of childhood, of her teenage years, and the start of adulthood. REAL adulthood. And all the joys and horrors that come with it.

I am happy for her, terrified for her, but mostly really, really excited for her.

I sat with her at a college visit last week, almost crying as I pictured her maturing and changing into a bona fide grown up during those years away at school. All the opportunities open to her, I can’t wait to see where life takes her, and I can’t BELIEVE we are at this point already…… I just had her. I can relive that day, I still see that purple baby they put on my stomach, me rubbing her foot, not really knowing what else to do, not able to register yet that my life had just changed in an immeasurable way. A wonderful way.

And then I look over here…..

jenna

And see my 17-month old taking her first half-naked selfie…with MY phone!

And I wonder…… am I strong enough to go through this again?

Of course, raising a daughter is difficult. Is it possible for me do as well with this one? And whose to say I had anything to do with the first one turning out so well? (so far!)

I can look back on the times my oldest has hated me, the times I’ve truly disliked her. The lies I’ve caught her in, the “discussions” about why certain things are NOT ok for her to do. The worries, the heartbreaks, and the accomplishments along the way.

The maternal RAGE when my child has been hurt, teased, bullied. Because sadly, it seems to happen to everyone at some point.

Oh, it’s not easy for girls to grow up.

I can say from my own experience, and the collective experience of so many girls and women I know….. the teen years pretty much suck. High school is generally something we would prefer not to go back to. Ever. For so many reasons, much of it due to the fact that it is PAINFUL to be a teen. Transitioning between childhood and adulthood, it is not a great place to be in many ways. We take our uncertainty out on our peers, on ourselves, and of course, on our hapless parents. There is a reason it’s call teen angst.

Talking to my oldest today about how much different life is after the high school drama is over….and looking at my 17 month old, who has no clue what it means to feel unsure of yourself, or worried about what your peers think of you….who could care less if the other tots like her new sundress or not.

I’ve got one daughter at the end of her childhood, and one just beginning. I hope I can be whatever each of them needs, whenever they need it. I hope my oldest will be there to help  guide the youngest, providing sisterly advice that will probably trump my motherly advice.

I hope, I hope, I hope.

And I hope, in the end, that I haven’t screwed up too badly. That my girls remain as close to me as we are now, even closer. I hope they live happily and love deeply….. and grow to be strong, independent women.

And of course, if they are ever blessed with daughters…… I will wish for them the same thing my mom, and millions of moms have wished for their own daughters……

“I hope you have a daughter JUST LIKE YOU!!!”….

 

 

Nothing beats writing in a journal

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I started my first journal as an assignment in high school. January 25, 1991, 10th period composition class. Hmmmm, I was 15 then.

Back then, it started out as something I had to do for credit. We were given different things to write about and turned in our journals to be graded each week.

I enjoyed it. And I kept writing even after I didn’t have to.

There were more journals after that first one. Early ones filled with teenage uncertainty, drama, angst. Later, as life got busier with jobs and kids, I wrote less. I stopped writing in my “all purpose” journal, and started a pregnancy journal for each child. Each would chronicle my pregnancy, hopes and fears, body changes, and later would also include notes about the baby. How I felt (depressed initially, elated eventually), and every once in a while I go back into those journals and jot some notes about, or a letter to that child….talking about them and how much I love them.

Once in a while, I will come across my stack of journals and page through them…reading things I can’t believe I’d forgotten in some cases. Sometimes, when I’m feeling REALLY wild and crazy, I will look up the same date in different journals to see how my life changed over the years.

journals

Here’s how it works. Usually, I’ll check out what I was doing “today”, or a date close to it. So……..On May 1st, 1991, My teenage self was focusing on the very important topic of boys, which one’s I liked, which ones liked me, and how I can’t believe one of the guys I’d been drooling over was actually dating an old friend of mine from middle school…. and WHAT is up with that, “She’s not as pretty as me and her personality is just strange!”

That journal is really hard for me to read. I’m just….embarrassed for myself.

5/1/1997, Pregnancy journal 1: I was up to 155# at the doctor appointment that day, complaining about back pain, hip pain, worrying about labor, and getting up all night to pee still sucked.

4/28/2001, Pregnancy journal 2: “Today was one of the worst days. I cried today a few times.” The baby (3 weeks) has been crying so much, I’m sleep deprived, I saw blood in his diaper and was taking him in to the doctor.

5/1/2010, Pregnancy journal 3: “Sammy is 3 weeks old tomorrow….I’m feeling much better, I feel like we’ve finally bonded. Doing better with breastfeeding-don’t feel so much like he’s not going to survive or something.”

5/13/11, Regular journal: “Rachel will be 14 tomorrow…in a lot of ways those days were really the happiest of my life, I miss it. Things just get busier and harder, I have less and less time. I miss those days with her, I really was the center of her world. I hugged her yesterday after her game, she was upset for playing bad. She didn’t give me much of a hug back. She always seems to be holding back now, doesn’t want to get too close. I hope this changes, I miss her hugs. She’s almost a grown up now. I’m so sad about it, it came too fast!! I wish I could just go back to when she was younger, just to visit and feel those memories happening around me again. Thank God the kids are all good and healthy, I really have been blessed!”

5/1/2012, Pregnancy journal 4: It’s hard to study, I’m so tired at night I fall asleep whenever I sit down to relax. “Six weeks pregnant now, baby is the size of an ice cream sprinkle.”

5/9/2013, Pregnancy journal 4: “my Jenna-Bean, you are amazing! Why do I find you so wonderful, cute, perfect, adorable and fun?? Because you are!! Thank you God for this angel, I could not have asked for anything more…”

These journals are a treasure for me. They really are a way for me to get back into the moments we can’t hold onto forever. Yes, I can’t stand the teen I was, superficial, selfish, and sooooo annoying. But I sure can relate to my own teen as I read the entries of a teenage me, and cringe the entire time.

I visit painful memories. Happy memories, sad memories. I empathize with the depressed me suffering with PPD and worrying that she/I may never feel better again. I enjoy silly memories of my kids growing up. I have mixed feelings still when I read entries about preparing for my first wedding, and the wishes, hopes, and dreams I penned onto those pages. I shake my head at how young that girl was, and how grown up she thought she was.

I realize that time will not stop. My kids will continue to grow, and one day have families of their own. I feel like my daughters will probably want to read the things I’ve written about them, starting with my first positive pregnancy test…..and only ending when I no longer have the presence of mind to continue writing. I’m not sure about the boys….but I still keep writing about them, and writing to them.

There is something special about choosing a new journal. It must be hardcover, not too thick or thin. I hold it in my hand, flipping through it’s empty pages, and wonder where I will be in life by the time I fill those pages. When I find a new journal that looks and feels just “right”… I take it home and open it up, usually 12am or later when everyone in the house is in bed. This is my time to be alone with my thoughts. I put the date on the inside cover, and  wonder who will eventually read these pages, and what will they think of me?

And then I start writing.

 

 

 

 

 

This is what being a Mom IS…

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I love to smell my daughters feet…….

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I don’t know how I realized this, but I find myself grabbing those little feet and just inhaling whenever she is near….and just loving that they are so soft, and little, and warm. And they ALMOST smell…..like feet. I cherish it, because one day they are going to REALLY smell like feet, and doubt I will willingly bury my face in them anymore.

I have these little moments, in the middle of the chaos that comes with having 4 children, where I just take a minute to savor the odd moment, before I need to scream at someone for tracking play-doh all over the floor. again.

I’ve got two teens, and they find great pleasure in suddenly turning on me, usually in the middle of my speech about growing up, taking on more responsibility, chewing with their mouths closed…and holding me down to tickle me. This freaks me out, and I really fight to get away, all the while laughing and trying not to pee myself as I try to call them off. My gasping pleas for release are ignored, as they assume my threats are not real because I can’t stop laughing. I really hate that. But I love it, and then I ground them…. for like 5 minutes.

It’s not always fun and games. I’m strict and if you ask my 4 year old who the “mean” one is, the pointer finger zooms right to me. BUT, I’m the one he runs to for kisses, I’m the one he picks as his “favorite” whenever I ask him (ssshhh, I know I’m not supposed to do that), in fact, the only time he runs to his Dad, is to get away from me at bedtime, when he decides he’s not so fond of me after all.

My days home are a blur of cleaning, laundry, cooking, spacing out at the computer for brief moments, changing diapers, feeding, shopping, and plenty of yelling and threatening to never get you a slushy from Target again if you don’t pick up those toys Right Now!

My own 16 year old daughter is convinced that being a mother is the worst job a person could have. I am her reason for never wanting children…as she loves to tell me. I think it’s funny that I felt the same as her, at her age, living with my mom and being one of her 5 children. UGH, talk about a circus.

And yes, I dream of sleeping in one day, and not having to take care of anyone but myself, getting my hair done whenever I want, or just going OUT…..alone!! It’s so exciting when those moments happen!

Yet, as I tell my daughter, I would be lost without them. I’ve had kids for so LONG, I don’t even know who I would be without them. They define me by this point. My time is measured by their first steps, first smiles, even the first time my son told me he hated me. Ouch. I don’t forget these firsts, and I love to remember and cherish those million random things that just make this job extra special.

Like squeezing little butts, using social media to embarrass my teens, and trying to squeeze them all onto my lap for a quick pic before I am squished to death. They are crazy kids, they often do really really stupid things…. no really, it’s true. But they are MINE, and I cherish it, I do. I love watching them grow, sharing their lives, and of course…smelling their feet. 🙂