Mother’s Day-cation

11 May 2015 2 Comments

by Deb D in Growing Up, Just Life, Parenting Tags: , , ,

I am alone at the lake on Mother’s Day weekend. It’s supposed to feel good to be away, rejuvenating. And it does – sort of. I’ve escaped the mayhem of a spring weekend full of sports events, social obligations and chores. Who could complain?

Peach felt personally wounded that her mother would want to be away from her on Mother’s Day. I assured her that I did want to be with her – for the part when I come home to a clean house and a cooked dinner. But that it was also important for me to remove myself from motherhood for a moment so I could get a good look at it.

So here I sit, at a house that once upon a time, bubbled with the activity of a young family. Little voices squealed at the break of dawn, begging to go swimming. Bigger voices chased them around, lit campfires, and made nature bracelets to pass the time. They would roast smores together and give sticky hugs and kisses. They would kayak and count stars, play cards and hike mountains.

Those days are gone. My babies are growing up and our time as a family is coming to an end. It sounds melodramatic but it’s true. Five in one room is a thing of the past. I’m trying to pretend I’m not sad; trying to avoid that cliche about it going so fast. But hot damn, it flew by and I’m gutted that it’s almost over.

I know I won’t stop being a mother when the kids leave the house. And yes, I’m grateful that they’re reaching their expected milestones. So I try my hardest to avoid silly tears. But when I stumble upon a forgotten baby monitor while Spring cleaning our lonely vacation house, I bust open. I couldn’t bring myself to move the toys that I found under the bed. I remember buying them for my 2 year old.

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When I was a stay-at-home mother, I made a promise to myself to maintain an identity. I feared the thought of becoming one of ‘those’ mothers whose lives were so entwined in their children’s lives that they fell apart when they were no longer needed. Unachieved goal, that one. No matter how much I’ve accomplished outside of mothering, nothing matters more to me than loving and caring for my little people.

Sometimes, I actually wish I didn’t love them so much. Because it hurts to let go. This is the dichotomy I’m stuck in.

Celebrating the milestones while mourning the foregone moments.
Dreading the work yet embracing the job.
Wanting my children close to me but craving peace and quiet.

It’s tearing me apart, this motherhood thing. And yet, it’s the very thing that makes me whole.
I can’t know if I’ve made the most of mothering. But mothering has definitely made the most of me.

The Cheating Scandal

27 Apr 2015 1 Comment

by Deb D in Crack A Smile, Just Life, Parenting, Reconciling, Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

confirmationI may be going to hell.

Before I divulge the reason, I wish to make a statement on my own behalf. The following is an account of an isolated incident which has no bearing on my core standards as a parent.

Beagle missed the appointed Religious Education class during which he was meant to take an exam in preparation for receiving the Sacrament of Confirmation. So he had a make-up exam on his own time, in a private room, in which I joined him due to lack of waiting space.

Prior to the test date, I tried in vain to get Beagle to study. In a show of teenage defiance he staunchly refused. So of course he didn’t know the material. Beagle is a good student, unaccustomed to, and uncomfortable with, failing. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his leg started tapping nervously.

In my hand was the study guide that had been provided. It asked for lists: 10 commandments, 5 precepts, 7 sacraments….on and on. As I looked over the questions, I realized that I, a lifelong Catholic with a parochial school education, would struggle with this test. On the spot I made a radical decision to slip the answers to Beagle.

Pause for gasps and harsh judgment.

Did she just admit to helping her son cheat on a religious exam?!

Indeed I did.

Husband and I decided long ago that we would raise well-informed, well-rounded little people. This included a plan to study and practice religion within the parameters of our faith. We also agreed that it is foolhardy to expect them to embrace it any more than they embrace quadratic equations. Both are full of unknown variables and require a level of understanding that taxes the brain.

Beagle has been struggling in his faith. He likes to provoke me by claiming atheism.

“How can you quit on God when you’ve barely met Him?” I ask.

Despite his resistance, Beagle decided to go through with Confirmation. He took the name of St. Thomas because Thomas was a doubter, too.

The bishop started his homily with words of encouragement to all the parents, grandparents and godparents in attendance. He said, “You will not be judged by your child’s adherence – (or lack thereof) – to his faith…..You have done what you could. Now it’s up to him.”

I could be wrong, but I think the bishop looked directly at me and bestowed an absolution for my collusion in the cheating scandal.

When all was said and done, I quizzed Beagle. I needed one last attempt to affirm that he had learned something about religion in the past 16 years. “Just tell me, in your own words, what the Church wants you to know about being a good person.”

Beagle replied, “Don’t diss your parents. Don’t smack talk your neighbor. Don’t cheat on your wife or your god if you have one. Don’t kill, steal or do other things you know are wrong. And go to church every once in a while.”

I think he got the gist of it.

Super-Connected

13 Apr 2015 1 Comment

by Deb D in Insights, Love and Other Things, Parenting Tags: , , , , , ,

universeIt was a dark, rainy night on a slick highway….

A very cliché but accurate backdrop that begins my creepy story.

Principessa was at crew practice and due to arrive home soon. The rest of the family were at home going about their business in various rooms.  Out of the blue, we each heard a sound that was mutually described as eerie.  It sounded as if Principessa was crying out in distress.  I might have second-guessed my hearing if Peach hadn’t nervously called out, “Did anyone else hear that?  It sounded like P. screaming. Is she home?”

No.

Unable to determine another likely source of the mysterious sound, we returned to our individual activities.  I hope that wasn’t one of those crazy stories where a person is really in trouble and her loved ones sense it, I thought.  All manner of tragic situations ran through my mind.  Principesssa was rowing at night on a river in the frigid early spring weather. I offered a fervent prayer for her safety.

When Principessa walked through the door looking unscathed, I greeted her casually.  “How was practice?”

“Fine.” she replied, giving no hint of emotion.

“Good, because the weirdest thing happened a half hour ago.  We all heard you scream.”

Principessa burst into hysterical tears on the spot and started trembling all over.  “I ALMOST GOT KILLED ON THE HIGHWAY A HALF HOUR AGO!!!”

A car had swerved into her lane and nearly pushed her into the guardrail.  Principessa skidded off the road but managed to recover without further incident.

Of course we phoned family and friends immediately – some of whom have had similar experiences. Each had his or her own explanation of the event.  But none could remove the feeling that a force beyond our human understanding was afoot. One doesn’t have to be spiritual or cosmic or crazy to be awed by the whole affair.  Sister-in-law deepened the mystery when she reminded us that this date was Prinicpessa’s deceased grandfather’s birthday.  And this year marks the 20th anniversary of his passing. Perhaps his spirit had a hand in her ultimate safety.

Principessa has recently expressed her fear that we will forget her when she goes off to college in a few months.  She will be 400 miles from home and worries that her place in the family will become less important.  We may have dispelled this concern with our evidence of super-connectedness.

I know one thing for sure: if ever I hear Principessa cry out while she is at college, I will be sending  campus police on a manhunt for her.

louise hay quote

The Trouble With Teens

27 Mar 2015 2 Comments

by Deb D in Crack A Smile, Greatest Hits, Growing Up, Just Life, Parenting Tags: , , , , , ,

dishesSome days I want to be done parenting. I want to clock out – not just for the night, but forever. Deep down, beyond the drudgery, I know I don’t mean this. But when the well is dry like it is tonight, I can’t fathom where I will scrape up the energy to do it again tomorrow.

Husband saw that my mothering light was extinguished sometime between a power struggle over chores and a monotonous round of shuttling thankless teens to their activities. He took over with a threat, “No ride to the gym unless those dishes are washed!” Beagle didn’t budge.

“Did you hear me?” Husband said with a more aggressive tone, trying to penetrate the Beats headphones.

With a much-too-casual attitude Beagle replied, “You weren’t serious.”

This lit Husband’s fire and he exploded on a teen who very brazenly called his bluff. I wisely left the scene in anticipation of escalating emotion – I didn’t need to be in the vicinity to hear the fallout. And I thought it best to avoid bearing witness to a potential crime.

After a dramatic round of shouting and banging of pots and pans, Husband emerged victorious with his chest puffed up a bit, patting himself on the back for showing teen son who’s boss.

A male friend commented that he was glad he never had a son because he knows that he would butt heads with a boy in a much more destructive way than with his daughter. It would be physical and loud and ugly, he postulated – just like between me and my dad. And I would win, just like my dad did.

Really? Did Dad win? Did you love your father?

No.

Did you respect him?

No. I feared him.

Did you resent him?

Absolutely. And it made me rebel even more.

Case in point. There is no winner in war. Even if both sides agree on a victor of the battle, the silent war wages on. Grudge matches ensue; both sides unwilling to declare ultimate defeat.

The trouble with teens is that they excel in the art of power struggle. One would think that a parent would too. After all, parents are just teens of yore with more experience. But we are worn out and the game is old. Teens, on the other hand, seem to have a bottomless supply of energy for sparring. It emanates from a gland that no longer serves the parent.

I hated to ruin Husband’s victory dance in the kitchen, but he needed to know the truth. Teen son had washed the dishes as commanded to do, yes. But instead of using a sponge, he had washed them with the scrub brush that is used to clean the floor.  Zing.

City Girl In The Country – With a Snowblower

13 Feb 2015 5 Comments

by Deb D in City Girl In The Country Tags: , , , ,

Snow BlowingIn the Country Life Olympics, snow blowing is not my strongest event.  It’s on par with my leaf blowing skills.  I blame the fact that we didn’t need yard machines in the city on our postage-stamp size lot.  But give me a rake or a shovel and watch out!

A more suspicious wife might wonder if dear Husband purposely scheduled his business travel to warmer climates in response to our local forecast of ANOTHER blizzard.  (Fun fact: New England has had 78 inches of snow in one month.)

Perhaps when Husband left an extra gas tank in the garage, he was feeling remorseful that the snow blower ran out of fuel in the middle of the driveway during the previous storm, leaving his wife and daughters stranded.

It was said gas tank that brought me to tears.  Prepping for my third round of driveway-clearing in 10-degree temperatures, I found my fingers incapable of fine motor tasks.  The pain and frustration were so great that I fell to my knees and wept.  It was a messy scene of snot and swearing for a while before I pulled myself together and solved the problem by destroying the gas cap with a key.  My mother’s voice rang in my mind, “If you cry, you cry alone.”  Harsh but helpful advice that has spared me any delusion over the years that crying solves problems.

I set out with a renewed resolve to show the 300-pound snow blower who’s boss.  Several times I pinned myself against the house and car because I forgot to shift out of reverse.  But I’m happy to report that I completed the job with all body parts intact, if not sore.

I returned to the house looking like a pathetic version of Ice Man.  Frolicking daughters stopped dead in their tracks when they saw me.  Peach, bless her sweet soul, wordlessly started a cup of tea.  Teen daughter, also somewhat speechless except for a sympathetic ‘Oh!’ grabbed a  tissue to wipe the mascara running down my face.

This swell weather pattern we’re having doesn’t want to give up.  Neither do I.  Now that I’ve conquered the beast, I am determined to elevate my snow removal game.  ‘Atta girl’ Husband would say….as he drove out of the snow-cleared driveway to the airport.

Accepted, Excited and Panicked

02 Feb 2015 Leave a comment

by Deb D in College Chronicles, Growing Up, Parenting Tags: , , , , , , ,

collegebound2I knew by the size of the envelope that it was an acceptance letter, but I still held my breath when Principessa tore into it.  This was her top-choice university and the outcome could make or break her sanity.  She was ecstatic for a solid five minutes until nervousness set in.

I’ve tried reassuring her without being untruthful.  Sort of like telling a toddler that a vaccine shot will hurt – but only for a minute.

To be honest, I’m questioning my success in preparing her for what’s ahead.  My confidence in this regard has been taking hits of late. Like when we were driving at night.  I flipped my rear-view mirror to block the headlight glare from behind.  “Wow!” Principessa exclaimed.  “Does every car have that feature?!”

This is the same honors student who thought that the car made its own windshield washer fluid.  No joke.

I find myself dispersing random facts of life at every opportunity to ensure that I’ve covered all possible topics before releasing my first-born to the world. A crash course in Life, if you will.

  • Expect to feel free.  You are about to grasp that Golden Ring of Freedom that every teen craves.  For the first time, you’ll have no parental supervision.  But let me remind you that even in the absence of authority, actions have consequences.  And the fact that you will make more of your own decisions means that you will assume more of the responsibility for the outcome.  Think before you act.  Or as your grandpa the carpenter would say, “Measure twice.  Cut once.”
  • Expect to feel lonely.  Even if you’ve forged strong bonds with new friends and are having the time of your life, you will, at some point, feel lonely.  You may be standing shoulder to shoulder in a crowd of 10,000 students on the college quad and it will strike you that you are utterly alone.  The good news is that loneliness is a slingshot.  It propels you back in the direction of meaningful connection.  Just as spontaneously as you fell into loneliness, you will reconnect and wonder what your heart was fussing about.
  • Expect to feel amazed.  You probably feel pretty worldly already.  But I assure you, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.  Get ready for jaw-dropping stories and experiences, the likes of which may test your faith in humanity.  You’re leaving a bubble of relative predictability and heading to a melting pot of cultures, customs and values.  This isn’t a bad thing.  If you observe from a reasonable distance like a wildlife researcher, your observations will resemble a really good movie.  Grab some popcorn.
  • Expect to be betrayed.  There’s no sugar-coating this one, darling.  A friend will tell your secret, or a roommate may steal your boyfriend.  But at the end of the day, there will always be more good in the world than bad.  I can’t give you scientific proof of this, but I believe it with all my heart.
  • Expect to be loved.  You know this one.  Love has no boundaries.  Your family will not forget you or wane in our affection while you’re gone.  Your place in our hearts is guaranteed.

What I’m trying to say, my dear, is that yes, college is a big deal for a small-town girl. But it’s just another season of life.  There will be harsh Winters AND glorious Springs.  As long as your heart beats, you will weather the seasons, because that’s what humans do.  They live through all manner of experiences from horrific tragedy to mind-blowing joy.  Some survive and others thrive.  Each decides.

Sixteen

21 Jan 2015 3 Comments

by Deb D in Just Life, Parenting, Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , ,

16If you weren’t a sixteen year old boy and embarrassed by me, your uncool mother, I would dance in the car like I used to and you’d join me.  We’d purposely embarrass ourselves and laugh at the reaction of others.

If you weren’t sixteen you wouldn’t hide in your bedroom.  You’d seek me out to share stories and jokes and music with me – like old times.

If you weren’t sixteen I’d compliment you and you’d believe me.  You’d hug me and not get antsy when I say ‘I love you.’

If you weren’t sixteen you’d admit that you get scared sometimes and would look to me for comfort.  You’d ask my opinion and not have to pretend that my words of wisdom mean nothing.

If you weren’t sixteen, you wouldn’t wear a perma-scowl to appear less sensitive than you are.  You’d allow yourself to feel.

But you are sixteen, like I once was.  I know what’s underneath that tough exterior of yours – the same generous heart, humorous spirit, and killer personality that I fell in love with so many years ago.  When you’re not sixteen anymore, these hidden gems will resurface.  People will marvel at the man you’ve become.  “Who knew?” they’ll remark.  A knowing smile will cross my lips, betraying my secret.  “I knew.” I will say.  A mother always knows.

 

City Girl in the Country – With A New Puppy

29 Dec 2014 4 Comments

by Deb D in City Girl In The Country, Just Life Tags: , , , , , ,

When I was a kid, I wasn’t allowed to have a dog.  My parents had a variety of practical reasons, but none, in my young opinion, was convincing enough to justify an outright denial of this most basic childhood desire.

They did try to appease my strong proclivity for pets with a menagerie of city-friendly rodents, birds, and fish, including some very cool homing pigeons and a brief stint with a live turkey that was walked on a leash.  But my dog-desire never waned.

Before the ink dried on the P&S of my first home, I contacted a breeder who would fulfill my long-awaited dream of owning a dog.  The rest is history, as they say.  I haven’t been dog-less since.

Enter my newest friend, Ivy.

Ivy

Regular readers will recall that convincing Husband to step back into dog ownership after the loss of a previous one takes work.  He is understandably nervous about the responsibility and commitment involved – especially for a puppy.  But with four relentless voices in the house and a coup by some fellow dog-loving friends, Husband caved to the cutest Christmas present ever!

We arrived at the shelter as the doors opened, hoping for first dibs.  We narrowly succeeded.  As we stooped to greet our would-be pup, another interested party arrived and scooped her up, claiming “This is the one.”  Principessa jumped up from her seat on the floor with a sound that can only be described as a primal growl.  Her posture was so aggressive, her demeanor so intimidating, that for a moment, even I was afraid of her.  After several agonizing seconds of this stare-down, the woman conceded and set the pup down at a safe distance from my 17-year old daughter-turned-werewolf.

It was love at first sight…and bite.  Ivy is a nippy little thing at 10 weeks old.  She’s receiving an obscene amount of love, attention and training at the hands of five adoring fans.

We are, perhaps, a bit too alarmist in light of the sudden and tragic loss of our previous dog.  When husband spotted a tick on Ivy’s fur and mistakenly said ‘flea,’ the scene erupted like a ‘code 2319’ in Monsters Inc. when George had to be decontaminated because he had a sock stuck to his back.

Then we had the ‘bloody toenail’ that turned out to be a piece of candy cane.  And the undue panic over a pile of dog vomit.  What can I say?  We love her and want to protect her.  Any mother will attest to the very real and imagined dangers that lurk in the shadows of her mind, waiting to pounce on her baby when she lets her guard down.

This is exactly what happened when two neighboring Labradors broke loose and crossed the street.  In a split second, Ivy was scooped into the mouth of the bigger one and tossed into the air.  It was a frantic scene of paws and leashes, arms and legs, trying to separate the dogs.  Despite the worrisome howling and shaking, Ivy recovered without any wounds.  It will take her humans a bit longer to heal.

For better or for worse, Ivy is ours, and we couldn’t be happier.   Already, in one short week, she has wiggled her way into our hearts and filled our home with joy.  As dogs do, she gives far more than she takes, proving once again that the journey of life is sweeter when traveled with a dog.

picstitch

Self-loathing vs. Self-love

15 Dec 2014 1 Comment

by Deb D in Insights, Love and Other Things, Parenting Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Body-dysmorphic-disorderBringing a scale into my house would be akin to loading the cupboards of a reformed alcoholic with vodka.  The temptation to feed my history of number addiction would be strong and may threaten to resurrect my teen obsession with weight-watching.

My Italian family, oddly enough, was fat-phobic.  They repeatedly cautioned against a genetic predisposition toward obesity whilst pushing heaping plates of pasta across the dinner table.  So I did the pseudo-anorexic thing, starving myself just enough to remain well-below the arbitrary threshold of acceptable body size.

As is typical of addictions, it began as a benign practice and was rationalized as a helpful and harmless avenue to my greater good.  But use became abuse and abuse led to addiction.  Addictions, no matter how long they’ve been held at bay, can challenge you with surprise attacks down the road.

I had just had an annual physical and discovered a 5-pound weight gain.  By default, my inner critic perked up in search of blame and shame.  It took some work to wrestle it to the ground.  The next day, when 17 year old Principessa asked for a scale for Christmas, I LOST IT.  Weight watching, in my experience, is like chasing your body with a stick in a threatening, ‘I’m going to beat you’ sort of way.  I’m not willing to support any product that promotes this unhealthy practice.

Self-aggression is epidemic, especially among girls and women.  Instead of looking into our hearts for the answer to the question, ‘Am I lovable?’ we ask the scale, or the pair of skinny jeans, or the fashion magazine.  Our preoccupation with comparison to unrealistic standards leaves us feeling bereft.

Recently, I stumbled across a photo of a young woman on social media who was quoted as saying, “I try not to hate my body.  I like my fingers, but the rest I’d change if I could.”  I wanted to jump into the post and hug her.  Poor dear.  She is playing the cut-and-paste game, trying to eliminate parts of herself in order to assemble her damaged idea of acceptable.  She has no idea how valuable she is.

I want to stop the madness.  I want to scoop up every girl in the world and MAKE her see her inherent goodness.  I want self-love to become the most popular phrase in her vocabulary.  But self-love is misunderstood.  Often it’s mistaken for vanity or is cast aside as a low priority.

Self-love can’t be over-emphasized.  It’s the key to inner peace.  If we care for ourselves and protect ourselves with compassion, we thrive.  It really is that simple.  If our motivation to eat, exercise, work, play and rest is prompted by our love for our bodies, not hate, we make good choices.

Thus far, I’ve been successful in protecting my daughters from the black hole of body dysmorphia.  We focus on function of the body instead of form.  Health consciousness is king.  But I am ever on-guard because I’ve been to that dark place and know that if you step close, it will suck you in.

I Want A Refund

24 Nov 2014 1 Comment

by Deb D in Crack A Smile, Just Life Tags: , , , ,

Dear Warranty Department of the Universe,

I am contacting you to resolve the matter of a broken body.  My parents purchased this body for me as a gift many years ago.  I understand that there is a lifetime warranty against defects in workmanship.  Well, this body doesn’t work right.  It has reactive airways and skin, a broken heating element, and faulty pain control.  When I use my body, it hurts.  These problems appear to be escalating.

I’ve invested a lot of time and money on upkeep and repairs for what I thought was supposed to be a quality product. I use premium fuel and I regularly bring it in for maintenance.  But it still doesn’t work as it should.  Had I known the troubles this body would generate, I would have contacted you sooner about your return policy.

I’m hoping that as a reputable manufacturer you will stand by your product and offer to fix this body once and for all as I have not gotten the use out of it that I thought I would.

Thank you for your consideration of this matter.

Sincerely yours,

An unsatisfied human

……………………………………………………..

 

Dear unsatisfied human,

I am sorry to hear that you are unhappy with your body.  I can assure you that we, the Universe, do stand by our products.  We take pride in our wide variety of designs and exceptional quality of workmanship.

While you are correct that we offer a lifetime warranty, this applies only to defects in design. I see that the model that was purchased for you was our Basic Female version in white.  This model did not include the pain-free, blemish-free, odor-free, illness-free package.  That package was,unfortunately, a limited edition, cost-prohibitive extra, and has since been discontinued as it repeatedly failed to meet approval of our Quality Control Department.

I wish that I could offer you an exchange for a similar product, but it is our policy and practice to never duplicate a sale.  Our fine print states that The Universe, LLC cannot assume obligation or liability for consequential damages sustained in connection with either proper or improper use of our products.

Perhaps you’d be interested in our extended warranty program. It covers hair color, chin waxing, corrective lenses, protective undergarments and walking aids.  And we are currently running a promotion:  Buy a subscription for massages, chiropractic care, supplements, and doctor’s appointments for the remainder of the lifetime of your body and you will receive at least one day of pain relief.

Rest assured, Ms. Unsatisfied Human, that we, the Universe do value you as a customer and hope that you enjoy your body.  We appreciate your feedback and look forward to working with you in the coming years.

Sincerely,

The Universe

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