My confession is (da dada DA!): I don't have a clue what I'm doing here. This "parenting" thing? A brand new mystery every day, nipping on the heals of all of the things from yesterday that I haven't figured out yet. Oh well. It's only been 18 years, right? I mean, give a girl a learning curve, why don't ya? There are days when I think that I have FINALLY nailed it. I am mom, hear me roar! I am protector, figure-outer-er, counselor, referee, comedian, comfortor, guru~except that some days, I just want to call my own mother, and leave it all up to her. It looks so easy, being a parent, and some days, it even feels that way, for five whole minutes or so...usually during naptime. I think about this alot. What it means to be a parent, a mom. I mean, I think about what it means for other people, but I really spend a lot of time thinking, specifically, what it means to be "Mom," as played by...me. I'm pretty sure that if I had an under-study, she might be doing it better. Hitting all of those marks that I miss. Saying her lines better, using a pregnant pause for better effect. Saying~and not saying~better stuff. My son's therapist asked me the other day what methods I use for discipline. Huh. Method. Do I have a method? My answer, after giving it a lot of deep, introspective thought? "Well," I said very deliberately, and with what I hope was a healthy amount of direct therapist-to-I'm a good parent, really!-eye contact, "I have "The Look," and I have fear." By the look on her face, I could only assume that my answer, while perhaps completely normal and acceptable in my world, came crashing down to earth in hers. So I explained that in addition, I also utilize an abundance of communication, and also that I can clear my throat (kcmmm-HMMM!) in a crowd of upwards of 8,000 people, and my children will sit up and pay attention (that is completely true, by the way). Better? Not so much. Someday I have to learn to quit trying to help myself by talking; to me, these methods are time-proven and have a high degree of effectiveness. I have never been a 1, 2, 3, TIMEOUT kind of parent~I am the mom, I will do nothing to hurt you, I will knock down anyone who does, I will ask you up to 3 times to do something, I will love you with 357% more of me than I have to give, and you will coorperate do you understand me? That's about how I roll, and I believe that, for the most part, it has been a successful procedure. What is not mentioned, the part of the equation which I spend a considerable time trying to NOT let anyone see, the "secret math" of my "Being a Functional Mother" (HA!) handbook, is this: I AM WINGING IT. I think about this stuff all the time; I can't stop, and the older they get, the closer I get to "launch;" the more I find myself reviewing every word, every nuance: "I should have said~", "Why did I ~?", "If only I had~." Have I taught them everything they need to know? Have I asked the questions for them that they won't know to ask until it's too late? Can she change a tire? Can he boil an egg? Please and thank you are important! Tell people that you love them! Don't kill a spider outdoors, but if it's in the house, all bets are off. Laugh every day for no reason at all, forgiveness is always easier, in the long run. The short run will trip you up, every time. Adults should say "I'm sorry," too. Children should be shown respect. Teenagers can fall in love, real love. Your ideas are important, and valuable. You need to not have an opinion about that, because you're only 14 (even though you are more right and sensible than some 50-year-olds I know). Be a good man. Act like a lady. Take responsibility. Volunteering is important. Don't be afraid. Be afraid. Call in to let me know you're ok. High school is everything right now, but will fade to a distant memory within 6 months. Broaden your horizons, allow your world to grow. Love god, and serve him faithfully. Pay a compliment. Pay your debts. Don't get into debt. Sometimes ice cream for breakfast is the best thing you can do for yourself. Food = Love. I know I'm crazy, but you still have to take care of me when I'm old. I spend countless seconds viewing old footage, playing back incremental moments, searching for (and finding) the mistakes, the mis-steps that I've made along the way, wishing that for every moment of 20/20 hindsight I could ask for a refund of just 3 or 4 seconds to be able to go back and tweak my performance~a change of tone, a turn of phrase, hug here, remain firm there...AGH! In all honesty, I know that I am a good parent, but even with that self-assurance, I still look at my 3 beautiful, fairly well-adjusted children, and I see how they shine, and the light they throw seems to somehow reveal the spots on me. Which sounds very self-absorbed, so I should try to clarify: Perhaps it isn't the successes that throw the shadows; every triumph they have makes me soar! No, I think that it is knowing the struggles they face; the spots on them (and they have spots, believe me), the failures and bumps and bruises that they carry~all of those things are very personal to me~they are a reflection, in some way, on my ability to do my job in the Mom biz. Why can't my daughter organize her time and her life~a constant victim of her own chaos? What important key have I not been able to help her turn? Why does my oldest son seem quietly, doggedly determined to do whatever I ask whenever he feels like it? Why can't I help him to see that the world does not function according to his schedule, just because he believes that it should? I can't help but feel somehow...at fault, to blame for all of the traits and bad habits that my children carry; large and small. It's a kind of arrogance, I suppose: If I had taught them better, if I had clearer vision, or greater understanding, or or or or or...then they would be...free. Free of the mistakes, the stumbles,bumps and bruises which make a person who he or she is. Given the chance, I would absorb everything bad or hurtful or frustrating in thier lives. I would carry them on my shoulders to get them closer to the sun, I would use use my body as a shield, my hands as a weapon, my mind as a source of solutions. But I know that it's those things, those very stumbles, which help all of us to grow. Life's little potholes keep us sharp, theoretically, and I would be taking something priceless away from them by not letting them forge thier own way. So again, the difficult thing to accept, in these moments of frustration, is that who my children are, shining light and spots alike, reveals much about me, and I don't always feel like I'm up to dealing with what that revelation is trying to teach me. Parenting is the thing which in many ways defines me, and so if I question how well I do it, I am, in effect, questioning how well I do at being me. So, when I'm talking to my daughter, and I see that my words (which are about her actions) are causing her to hurt, I find myself suddenly in the middle of a struggle of my own: Let her continue to feel this, to be upset, to realize her mistake and to take responsibility for it, which is what she needs, or stop, rush to her side, hug her, wipe her tears away, and make it all better, which is what I need. Again I'll say it: AGH!!! This is a struggle which, for me, is constant. I think too much, but I have to think about it, no I don't, yes I do, it's who I am, if I don't think about it and keep trying to perfect it, then what? I love being a parent, it is at once my most courageous triumph, and my greatest fear~I know that I do it well, but do I do it well enough? If I fail at being a mom, then I fail more than just me~I fail them, and that is not an option. I chose to access and exercise my "ovarian rights," and now I had better figure it out, whatever is required!
