The Perfect Mother Myth #1587

The Perfect Mother Plans Fish Funerals...

I'm the first to admit that I'm not exactly the "nurturing" type. I try really hard, but being compassionate and sensitive doesn't always come easy for me. I'm more of a "tough love"-"put on your big girl panties and deal with it" kind of parent. My kids will be the first to tell you that during any times of distress, they want their father...Not their mother, like you might expect. Does this make me proud? Not exactly...

Last night, my level of compassion was really tested. You see, London had a male betta (which is a fish in case you were wondering). As I was cleaning up dinner, she brings the bowl down to me and asks me to give it fresh water. I gave it a glance and a nod and agreed to get to it when I finished up dishes. I got distracted and moved onto another task, I turned around to see London giving the fish water out of the tap. Male Bettas (like most fish) will die from chlorine. I dropped what I was doing and ran to her and tried to "resuscitate" the fish by quickly netting it out and giving it distilled water. I was too late. The fish was belly-up (and in all honesty, I don't know if it was even alive to begin with. I have a hard time believing it died that quickly) and I very matter-of-factly told London it had died and then proceeded to flush it down the toilet while she watched. Sounds cruel, right?

Well, let me defend myself. Since 1987, my parents have owned a tropical fish wholesale business. Dead fish have been a part of my daily life for the past 24 years. Their warehouse holds something like 500 aquariums and thousands of varieties. If you walk into any Wal-Mart, Earl May, and some pet stores in a 6 state area, more than likely, it came from my parents' warehouse. So, you see...I'm not exactly the one you want when it comes to fish and death. The fish funeral crossed my mind the moment the fish descended down the hole.

On the flip side of this though...Through London's anguish and tears and grieving, she was able to put a call through to Grammy and order a new fish. "Blueberry" will be arriving next week. But the best part of all of this was when I heard London say through her slobbery hiccups, "Even though I'll love Blueberry, Mom. He still won't be the same as Larry Garry (the dead one)"....

While it may be just a fish to me, it did bring tears to my eyes to see that it meant more to London than that. It was a moment where my 5-year-old daughter taught me a lesson I'll never forget.

Reflection

The New Year...Although it holds very little glitz or glamour for me, I do like to look back on a year past and peer into the future. What changes would I make? Which things will I do differently?

 You can't change other people's actions, you can only control your re-action. 

It's easy to let loose and scream sometimes. There are moments where the words are flying out of my mouth so fast and haphazardly that my head spins (and my children might even attest to steam coming out of my ears!). Generally, these are the moments I regret the most, especially as a mother. We've all been there. Life is just hard sometimes, sleep is in short demand, patience is limited and we say and do things we don't intend. We unnecessarily hurt feelings. We place blame where it doesn't belong. In the aftermath, I always wish I would have done things differently--taken a step back, counted to ten (or sometimes 100), and kept my reaction to myself. I can't control Logan's lost homework, or London's broken craft project, or Leyton's teething pain. That pot of water will boil over when I walk away to let the dog outside. London will spill her milk. Logan will get frustrated with his younger siblings. Leyton does need lots and lots of attention. The dog will continue to shed massive amounts of hair no matter how often or how much I vacuum. These things are givens, but how I react to them is not.

"No one will remember what you said, no one will remember what you did, but they will always remember how you made them feel."

I'm your typical self-centered first-born. I 'm not always sensitive to the feelings of others. I don't always put other's needs above my own. I tend to talk more than I listen. I'm emotionally distant at times. I remember a child describing his mother's love, he said, "She REALLY saw me. She always looked at me like I was the only one in the room. Her eyes lit up." It has been said that a child can tell the difference by how happy you are to see them by the look in your eye. It has nothing to do with a smile or tone of voice or hand gesture. It's as simple as your eyes...They can see straight into your heart. There will always be important lists and meetings and agendas. There will always dinners burning, laundry soaking, and water heaters bursting. The dog will always beckon to go outside the moment you sit down to eat your lukewarm dinner. And amidst it all, I hope my children, my husband, my neighbors, my friends, even my dog will someday say, "She REALLY saw me."....

never a dull moment...

London, our 5 year old, ran up to me with a sudden urgency. Her pointer finger extended. Of course, I'm thinking something happened to cause her some kind of harm (her drama indicator was on the lower end, so I knew there must not be any blood involved). No tears is also a sign that it must not be too bad, whatever it is.

"Mom! What is this? Smell it!" 

I bend down to smell the extended pointed finger. Mistake #1: I'm much more seasoned than this. I should know better.

"Yuck! What did you get into?"  

"I just scratched my butt and now it stinks." 

Lesson learned: Even though eagerly prompted, under no circumstances are you to smell fingers!

 

Thankful...

Does this conversation sound familiar to any of you? 'Tis the season!

"Look at this, Mom! I've never seen it anywhere else. We were just at Lakeville's Target and they didn't have it. Even Toys R US is out of stock. Can I puuuuullllleeeeasse get it?"

"It's so close to Christmas. Let's go home right now and put it on your list!"

"But it'll be gone by then. No one will get it in time. I'll use my own money. (The big tears start filling up the eyes, the whining begins). PUUUUULLLLEEEASSSE Mom! Everyone will have it and I won't. I wish I had Josh's life. His parents would buy it. He has a pool, an Xbox AND PS3. He has all those games too! You know...The ones you won't buy! My life totally sucks. His parents don't care about anything. 

As parents, it's so hard to hear the words, "Everyone will have it except me"....There is a part of us that remembers being young and how important it is to just fit in. We want our kids to fit in. We don't want to alienate them from their friends or their sense of "normal".

However, I also strongly believe in keeping things simple for our kids. So much of our society is absorbed in "keeping up with the Jones'" and while I wish I could have vacation homes in warm places and BMW's and in- ground pools, I don't. But I do have a nice, warm house. I have a turkey dinner on my table. I have a loving family and clothes on my back and a little money in my pocket (Ok, this sounds like bad lyrics from an old song?!). For these things, I'm an eternally grateful. This is a lesson I want my kids to learn too. It's not about keeping up with their friends. It's about being content and grateful for what we do have. It's about sharing our time and wealth with others who are not as fortunate.

It's hard not to covet your neighbor, but every time I do, I try to remember how lucky I am. In this world, there will always be someone who has more than me, but there is also someone who has a lot less. My wish for my family this year is that we find the ones who have a lot less and try to make their holiday season as memorable and warm as ours.

UPDATE: By the way, Dr Phil calls "Overindulgence the worst form of child abuse"...so, it's not about not having the money, it's about making a conscious decision NOT to spend it! And the holidays are the best example of this. I think it's a great time to teach our kids that just because they have a full wish list doesn't mean they get it all.

Crawling

I know! I know! One post is about my adolescent boy, the next about my baby. Seriously! What were we thinking?!

But I just had to share this: Leyton is so close to crawling. You know, up on all fours, rocking back and forth. While we're so excited for this next stage, we're also terrified. We've never had so many stairs (steep, steep stairs) with toddlers before. London was one when we moved into this house and she was so capable of maneuvering the stairs. Even then, we did have a couple of incidents where she went flying down them. Me, quickly behind her but unable to grasp her. Both of us crying by the time we reached the bottom.

London has been so excited to witness each new stage Leyton enters. To this day, she'll still come get me, practically screaming, when Leyton rolls over. "He did it, Mom! He's such a big boy! He rolled over all by himself." It's hard not to get caught up in her excitement, but he has mastered this skill for at least the last four months now. In fact, he can make it from one end of the house to the other by simply rolling back and forth. He is totally mobile with this skill alone.

So, now that he's working so hard on crawling, London is equally thrilled. She can't wait! In one of her moments of excitement, I told her, "Wow! If he figures this out, our Christmas tree isn't going to be safe this year." And she ponders this, looks at me somewhat confused and asks, "Why?" After explaining how busy moving babies can be, I add, "And he's going to be ripping open everyone's presents." Well, this completely ticked her off and she replies, "He's not going to open mine." Me: "Why do you think he'll leave yours alone?" She says, "Well....duh, Mom....They say 'London' on mine."

So, the girl who is so excited over crawling and rolling over also thinks her baby brother can read!

Adolescence

I have an adolescent child. A boy, on the cusp of the teen years; Raging hormones, emotional roller coasters, girls, long showers,girls, endless hours spent in front of the mirror, combing hair, girls.

I don't know what happened to my sweet child, but a sullen alien has replaced him at my dinner table. I feel like I've embarked on a some kind of enemy territory. A foreign land. Both of us learning a new art form: One wanting independence, one learning to let go.

As parents, we've been taught for years how important it is to keep the lines of communication open from the beginning, so when our children grow and are faced with overwhelming obstacles and challenges, we are approachable. They feel comfortable talking to us when it really matters and the stakes are high.

"How was your day?"

"Fine"

"What did you have for lunch?"

"I don't remember"

"What do you have for homework tonight?"

"Why are you asking me so many questions?"

This conversation leaves me wondering:

How can I do this better? 

Will he come to me in regards to girls and drugs when he won't even tell me what he had for lunch?

Then, it happens...When I least expect it. We're getting in the car, heading to a school event, just the two of us. The two car doors slam in unison. 

"Thank God we're alone! I need to talk to you about...."

I try not to appear too giddy. I don't want him to think I care too much. I don't want to appear needy. I try not to talk too much. Just Listen...Just Listen....Just Listen....I keep chanting to myself. 

For the full 10 minute car ride, we had this deep and meaningful conversation in the darkness of our car, the dash lights reflecting off his face. 

During this time of "Boy Becomes Man", when nothing I do feels right, I had a moment. Just a sliver of time where it felt like maybe....just maybe....all my effort and time invested might pay off. 

My 16 Year Old Self

Logan was at the counter, finishing up homework. London, beside him, doing her favorite craft project. Music playing in the background. A jabbering, bouncing baby on my hip. The dog curled up in front of the fireplace.

The above describes a "moment" I had today. Time seemed to stand still. I stood back and took it all in. "Life is so, so good" I thought to myself. My cup runneth over.

During this moment, I wanted to tell my 16 year old self the true definition of happiness because "she" thinks happiness is a destination she will only reach by getting into the "right" college, or making the "right" amount of money, or driving her favorite foreign import. She has no idea how simple it really is. She has no idea that in a few years a moment like this will bring her to her knees in gratitude (and not just because it was so rare that the children were sitting beside each other and NOT fighting!).

I'd like to tell her how much her husband will adore her. How she really will stumble upon a true love story. I want her to know that he'll look at her at the strangest times and tell her she's beautiful (and she'll be wearing sweats and not one once of makeup. She may not have even showered that day). He'll know all her faults and not only love her despite them, but because of them. He'll tell her Garth Brooks song "She's Every Woman" was written with her in mind. He'll love her so much that it'll scare her.

And together, they will raise three beautiful children. She may question her faith, but I want her to know that she'll see God, she'll actually look Him in the eye, the moment each of her children are born. She's going to love to watch them sleep and grow and change. She's going to love playing Santa and baking cookies and wrapping presents. She will always stop what she's doing to watch her husband play with the kids. I want her to know that watching each baby achieve their "firsts" never gets old. When they roll over for the first time, she will cry.

Babies will change her body. She will no longer be the size 2 she once was, but surprisingly, she will learn to appreciate her new curves. She'll realize that some jeans just aren't worth giving up chocolate for and she'll be ok with that. Believe it or not, she won't find the "boyish" body of her past very attractive anymore.

Some day, she'll grow up and move away. Then she'll realize how much she likes her parents. It'll take some time, but she'll realize how much they loved her, how deeply they wanted the best for her, and everything they did was only with her best interest in mind. The most important thing I'd want to tell my 16 year old self is that after she has children of her own, she'll see her parents mistakes in a whole new light. She'll become a lot more forgiving when she sees how hard it really is to raise a child.

Most importantly, I'd like to tell her how happiness isn't a destination, but a state of being. A feeling of contentment. I want to tell her to stop looking in all the wrong places. Just breathe. Relax. She WILL get there.