On being a parent

     It's been a tough week. I'm waiting for some piece of information that tells us our son and his family are getting back in a manageable routine after last week's activities. I've drawn a line, that should limit the potential of his chaos to take over our lives again, but it's still difficult to switch our focus back to the requirements of our own life when we know they're struggling and don't know if they're making headway. I keep telling myself we've done all we can at this point and we just have to wait for the next opportunity, but in steps that darn irreversible knowledge to make it near impossible to 'do normal'.
      I shouldn't be surprised. I don't know anyone that can prepare themselves physically and emotionally to make that much of a commitment and then immediately return to the normalcy of the 'old life' without a period of readjustment.
    Being a parent is the most rewarding and important job we have ever undertaken, but there are moments when I wonder what it would be like to think of no one other than us, my husband and me as a couple, for a while. It doesn't happen often and it's only after unusually high-stress situations.  The types of situations that have the potential to alter the course of our lives. I'm sure it's common, though I feel tired and I worry that when it's really needed I might not be willing (or able) to make the commitment. Now I'm praying for strength and an attitude adjustment.

Praying for Lilianna and some answers

     I hope we don't take the time we spend with our granddaughters, Abi and Josie, for granted.  We see them at least once a week and we love it. Now, we're getting another chance to spend some extended time with our granddaughter, Lilianna. She's 17 months old. We are excited and guarded at the same time. Her parents tell us she is a 'wild child' and that she hits and bites as if that will scare us out of taking care of her. It only serves to set our resolve that she must spend more time with us.
    What does scare me is that it won't be enough time to set a permanent mark on her life. They live so far away from us that we only get to see her about once every six months. I worry that she won't get enough of the routine teaching and reinforcement necessary to blossom into the beautiful happy young girl I saw emerging the last time she spent a couple weeks with us. Her mom and dad are struggling to find the life they want and we see that struggle taking it's toll. I'm scared for Lilianna.
     People used to tell us that you shouldn't have children until you can afford it.  I don't think that's it. It isn't about the money, it's about balance. You have to be able to prioritize. Once you have children, the rest of life's choices, no matter how mundane, should be decided by asking, 'how does it affect our child(ren)? Is this the best choice for us as a family?' It's the only way to respect, preserve and protect the delicate balance of family.
     Lilianna's parents are doing the best they can to give her what she needs but even they will tell you they don't understand what it is. I know it's selfish and would create it's own set of challenges, but on some level I keep hoping they recognize it's more work than they can manage and will ask us to take care of her. In the meantime, I'll keep that door open, continue to provide as much moral support as they'll accept, and keep praying.

In need of balance

     Keeping the proper balance in life is simple in theory. Plan enough work time and play time. Eat a balanced diet with fresh fruits and vegetables, lean meats, whole grains and adequate dairy. Avoid unnecessary stress. Let go of the little things and the things out of our control.
     That's all well and good if everyone in our life was on the same page. If we all communicated the same, had the same priorities and wanted as much for others as we want for ourselves, we wouldn't risk upsetting someone else through misunderstanding or disappointment.  We would know and respect the limits, ours and others.  We would work together and play together like a well-oiled machine.
    Imagine your boss coming to you and saying, 'You've been working so hard lately, slow down a little and take some time for you.'  Or your kids saying, 'I'm on summer break so I'll take over the house cleaning and preparing meals'.  How about your parents saying, 'You've been so responsible and worked so hard all school year, here's some money to do with what you wish.'  It's almost unimaginable for most of us, though I'm sure somewhere, in a few rare situations, some version of these statements/actions are being said and people are caring for those that surround them.
     My deepest desire is to have a measurable impact in the lives of others that push them and their individual worlds in this direction.  I'm older now and have to remind myself that it's never too late to effect change in the world, but the most difficult part is deciding what that change looks like. What can I do to make my corner of the world better?  I should be in a 'big damn hurry' because I'm not getting any younger.  If I make a point of being the best person I can, and try to make up for the mistakes I make along the way, then if something more profound and meaningful doesn't become apparent, perhaps it's the smaller steps for which I'm to be responsible. I'm okay with that.
   
  

Mother to Daughter to Mother

  As the title of my post suggests, I'm thinking about Mother's day and I have mixed feelings. When I was little, I learned about being a mom from my Mom.  My Mom was perfect!  That's not to say she didn't make mistakes or that I agreed with everything she said and did. Just the opposite, I do so many things differently than my mom. In spite of that, my mom was my hero.
   Growing up, my mom spent some of her formative years in an orphanage looking after three of her younger siblings. She didn't have the benefit of her mother's experience to show her how to be a loving mother, ... she had to BE the loving mom figure for them.  She was taught to cook and iron and sew. She could 'keep a house' and bandage a knee, but she had to teach herself how to encourage and guide children through her own emotional exhaustion.  I didn't understand it. In my misunderstanding, I decided I could do it better, I would be a different kind of mother.
   I am a different kind of mother.  What I didn't realize then was, those differences are only possible because of her strength, wisdom and courage.  She taught me everything she knew. As I matured, I was able to see what she couldn't teach me. The ability to look beyond what is right in front of me, is a gift she gave me.
   My mom is smiling with the angels now, but if I could look into her eyes I would say, 'We didn't always know the words we needed to express what we wanted to say to each other, but I appreciate that we kept talking.  We didn't always choose the right time to hug each other, but I'm glad we kept awkwardly putting our arms around each other.  We may not have been on the same 'wave length' through the early years, but we did get there because we kept trying.  I admire you and I love you so much!  I miss you more than I ever thought possible.  Happy Mother's Day, Mom!!

Be careful what you wish

    After recovering from the initial shock at the news of Osama Bin Laden's death last night, I felt an immense sense of relief.  I have lived with this awful fear in my life for the last decade, as I'm sure have others. People I know and love, as well as people that don't have a clue who I am, have been overseas risking their lives to help remove this fear.  For a few moments I was ecstatic it was gone. Then suddenly I was filled with sadness .... sadness remembering the horrors of 9/11 ..... sadness realizing this doesn't mark the end of the terrorism we will face ... sadness that one person can feel and spread that much hate .... and sadness because the goal of our mission was the death of another. 
     I have been praying for an absolute resolution to this fear for years and now that I thought it had been granted, I should have been happy. I wish it could've been different. I can't imagine another ending would have been possible, and that makes me sad.