Tag Archives: parenting

Love

Posted on by
Reply

It’s not enough. 

To just love is not enough to raise a happy child.

I am guided by love that allows me to feel her sadness, and to always know where to find that missing shoe. This love also allows me to offer up the last juicy shrimp in my bowl, and to know exactly how much salt to put on her eggs. Every time.

It’s not enough.

My legs and my heart, they’re a little wobbly. It’s getting harder to stand back up when I get knocked down by this growing, beautiful child. Her cold shoulder and harsh words overwhelm me, they make me weak. I should hide so she won’t have a target. Oh my love.

It’s not enough.

I am her ugly monster. The source of her anxiety, her stress, and everything that is wrong with her life. I can’t be spoken to, trusted, or treated like a loved one. But I have so much love.

It’s not enough.

Stay low, move quietly, and avoid direct contact. I need to repair the damage within and protect my fragile, cracking shell. She needs more than love.

It’s not enough.

BIG APPLE

Posted on by
Reply

All I had to do was take Saleha to New York. Not to Africa. And not to Haiti, where I recently saw firsthand what abject poverty looks like. It was in New York, where she learned that she can help poor and hungry people. It is a big leap for a privileged first-world teenager, who was in New York to celebrate her birthday by eating good food, shopping and sightseeing. A teenager–like thousands of others who walk on this planet in a bubble with their heads bowed to their personal electronic devices.

It started that first night with a full belly when she decided to give her leftovers to the first homeless person she saw. Twenty steps later, a very grateful woman took it, her sign declared she had three hungry children. As we walked away, Saleha declared…

…I feel bad.

Well, do you have money?

Yes.

Why don’t you buy her a meal?

Saleha’s offer was graciously turned down repeatedly. Dejected, she walked away.

One day, several conversations, many meals, and a few leftover packs of food later, I asked what we should do on our last day in New York.

I want to spend my money to buy food and give it to the homeless. And I want to find that woman.

My heart ached and soared. An antidote to the weekend of loud screaming lights, wafts of cloying perfume, hours of shopping, and the constant sightings of posters with half naked bodies promising many things. And a soothing healing balm to my own personal wounds inflicted by the teenage verbal and emotional rocks she sometimes throws at me.

After a gluttonous Sunday brunch, armed with bags of sandwiches, off we went to Central Park to find hungry homeless people.

Food

Some were easy, some were not. And we never found that woman.

This is complicated.

It sometimes is, my love.

 

When we got home, she churned ideas with a friend and they are off to pretty solid start on easy ways for people to donate money to Dimes for Dining. With the cash, they are going to make food, and I will drive them to personally feed hungry people on the street. And maybe it won’t be so complicated for right now.

So it was the big city in America that did it. Not a faraway small city with mountains and rivers of trash. It was in New York that she connected with the hungry and homeless who were surrounded by wealth and obscene overindulgence.

For her, and for now, I guess charity does start at home.

ROCKS.

Posted on by
3

It’s impossible to prepare for parenthood. Yes you can anticipate the sleepless nights, the constant vigilance on kids as they grow, making sure they are safe, healthy and happy. Easy stuff. But who can honestly anticipate the acute heart break that eventually settles in your soul as these babies turn into little adults, and learn how to navigate the world. It’s the stuff that was written in small print when you bring these wonderful creatures into the world. And you can’t walk away from it.

I give life lessons and love willingly. I also have to be strong enough to receive the mental and verbal rocks that get thrown at me, and have to be resilient enough to either avoid them, or if I’m hit, stand back up and continue giving life lessons and love.

When those rocks come hurtling at me out of nowhere, I have to dig into the recesses of my parenting brain and execute defensive maneuvers. This could include verbal tactics to help illuminate and broaden the small, self-absorbed world of a teen. If the claws come out and further attack ensues, I implement a containment plan: Punishment.  And because their world is so fucking small, their life resumes rather quickly. The rocks get put away, claws retracted. I on the other hand, nurse my wounds for days. My whole body permanently tattooed with more invisible battle scars.

Rinse and repeat.

There’s nothing clinical about this job. It comes with strong emotional and physical bonds. It’s not for the faint of heart. We don’t have armor to be emotionally safe from the havoc of a growing child. The love we feel for these creatures is all consuming. Yesterday I had a fleeting moment of wondering what it would be like to be child-free. Or at the minimum to be free of the anguish, pain and heartache once reserved for the comparatively flighty world of dating.

I need to invest in some serious padding, because I am committed to this job forever. I also need to invest in some self-control because after all, as the husband reminds me, these creatures we love so much are not in control of their emotions. Which makes it all the more important that we stay in control of ours.

And I do so love these creatures.

Sister Power

Posted on by
1

Last night during dinner, Saleha gave Lily some advice on what to do when some girls in school make her feel bad about herself.  Girls who make her think she’s not good enough, not pretty enough, not thin enough.

Start with the little things. Remind yourself of the things that make you feel confident and good about yourself. Then sit up straighter, and walk tall.

Sometimes these words mean the world when they come from a big sister. Times like this I am reminded why I was so happy when I found out I was going to have two girls. And why I always wanted a sister. This is girl power. This is why women need each other when we are adults and why girls should be taught young to prop each other up, not put each other down.

Saleha also shared something else she learned in middle school.

Try this. Think of something about yourself, write it down on a piece of paper. On the other side, write “it’s okay.”

It was hard for Lily. She wrote things like “I’m fat, I’m not pretty…”

But that’s all not true Lily. My friends think you are pretty.

Compliment from big sister! Big eyes, jaw drop, huge smile. Wow.

At bed time, Lily tried again after I turned off the lights.

I’m really scared of roller coasters. And it’s okay. I’m not as pretty as some girls. And it’s okay.

I’m terrified of roller coasters too my love. And it’s okay.

Saleha did have one more piece of advice at dinner.

Tell those girls you can run faster, you are strong, and you can do more pushups than any of them.

That’s right sista. When in doubt, show them how you can kick ass.

A phone call

Posted on by
Reply

It was too long to txt.

That’s what my daughter Saleha said after she got a phone call from her friend Evelyn as we walked in the door from a school concert. Evelyn called to tell Saleha that her grandmother died. Some things, I guess, are just too long, or too complicated to txt. Or maybe the 😦 emoticon wasn’t enough. Or maybe Evelyn needed to hear a voice—Saleha’s voice. I will never know. But what I do know is she called. And Evelyn gave me hope.

 I’m sorry Evelyn

It will be okay

I’m so sorry your grandmother died Evelyn

I knew of Sharon’s death earlier that morning from Evelyn’s parents, good friends of ours. So I knew what Evelyn’s call was about. I listened to the conversation, saw the look on Saleha’s face, encouraged her to go on, gave her the thumbs up with each time she offered Evelyn comfort.  

I didn’t know what to say

But she did. For the first time ever, Saleha had to console a grieving friend. Grandma Sharon lived with Eveyln’s family for more than a year while receiving cancer treatments. The whole family entered that world of living with illness and possible death—a place we’re all familiar with, but often not from first-hand experience.

Saleha’s cell phone rarely leaves her side. At 7pm each night she has to put it away–along with any other electronics. No emails, no more Google chats, etc. That’s the rule. I’ve been trying to show Saleha that it’s important to know how to communicate by talking, and not just from that safe txt-ing place.

Well, last night, Evelyn showed Saleha that sometimes friends need to hear a voice. And I hope Saleha learned that sometimes, friends just need to know she’s there to listen. So many lessons with one short phone call.

Sharon, I will listen to Elton John all day today…

My Adventure

Posted on by
2

In a day I go on an adventure. I will be traveling to Kasulu, a village in Western Tanzania. No safari, no SUVs, no smiling bands of tourists. Just me and 6 other friends. We are traveling on behalf of Asante Mariamu, a non-profit organization formed by my dear friend Susan Dubois to help people with albinism in East Africa. In Kasulu we will be spending time at the Kabanga School for the Disabled. We are taking with us supplies for people with albinism, and visually and hearing impaired children. We will help improve various parts of the rather run-down school, teach people with albinism how to care for their skin, launch the first ever Albinism Awareness Day in Kasulu, and capture more stories to raise awareness.  This will be an adventure of a lifetime for me.

In the last week, I’ve been waking up feeling quite ill. In the last month, my stress level related to this trip has gone up. This is an incredible opportunity, a wonderful mission, a great cause. But this ache in my chest lingers.  I haven’t been able to nail down why. But now I know:

Cave woman

I am hardwired to care for my two babies. Yes, even at ages 12 and 8. And yes, even if I have the most capable husband and father to these big babies. I’m hardwired. I’m leaving them and traveling to an unknown place, and may find myself in unsafe situations. This act is causing ruckus in my psyche, and the logical side is losing the battle against the strong, hardwired cave woman/mama bear instinct to protect my babies. I’m fleeing the nest. My babies need food and shelter.

Direct line

iPhone be damned. What good will it be to me if there is no wireless connection? And no, I don’t need it to post my pictures on Facebook, check in, or tweet about what I had for breakfast. Not having a direct line to my family makes me uneasy.

What if I don’t come back?

I was startled when I said this out loud to my husband Scot a few weeks ago. Very startled.

So why am I going?

Because it’s the right thing to do and I want to go. And I’m going because I can. I’ve been handed this opportunity to go beyond my usual comfort zone and do some good for people who are not my family or close friends. It’s time I got off my ass and the comfort of my chair. It’s time I got off the Internet, the reach of social media, and touch some real people. Look at them directly in the eyes and talk to them.  Learn a new language. Make some  lifelong connections with people. People who perhaps cannot imagine owning a smart phone that can connect me with my family thousands of miles away, instantly. But only if I have a wireless connection…

Please learn more about Asante Mariamu, and why I feel compelled to leave my family for a week to be with the wonderful people of Kasulu, Tanzania.

Advice for my daughter

Posted on by
1

Last night after an evening at Saleha’s school’s Spring Concert, I inadvertantly got her worked up and mad. All I did was ask a few questions about the performance. She was upset that earlier in the week during the school-time performance, kids were falling asleep during the orchestra program. She was so ticked off at her orchestra director for his music selection. BORING. She was mad as hell that he invites suggestions on what to play, but disregards their input. She was angry that the band director and her band kids composed a song to tell the world that band is better than orchestra. Saleha was pissed off that she is often the one voice among many who has to defend classical music.

My oh my. So this is one of those teaching moments us parents have to grab and run with right? I hope I passed the test.

“All the kids say that music is not going to take me far in life.”

Did you know there are studies that show that music actually helps students in areas like math?

“Yes, music is like fractions.” (She went into a complicated rapid explanation on how she breaks down music notes to keep time and rhythm)

Huh.

“I wish we would play more modern music in orchestra so kids wouldn’t fall asleep.”

But you love classical music right?

“Yes, but I was the only one in Spanish class this week who thinks classical music is cool. Everyone else thinks it is boring.”

You know if you ever want to stop playing violin because you don’t want to, I would never stop you. But I hope you never stop playing because other kids say it isn’t cool.”

Silence

You feel bad because you have to defend yourself all the time, ya?

“Ya.”

This is just the beginning my love. It’s going to get harder. You should always be true to yourself.

Silence.

Saleha, I believe there are two things that bring the world together. Food and music.

Smile.

It’s hard to explain why you love your music, right? And if you meet someone from Russia, China, Germany, or anywhere in the world, they may not speak English. But if they can play the piano or violin like you, they can share the same love you have for music. And it will bring all of you together. You don’t have to use words to communicate. It’s like music is a language understood by everyone in the world.

“So what you’re saying is music is part of the International Baccalaureate program?”

It sure seems like it, doesn’t it? You tell that to those IB kids in band and in your Spanish class.”

Grins.

Tomorrow do some research on studies that have been done on how music helps students with learning. And next time you have to defend yourself, you will have the facts. Maybe you can also somehow use these findings for the school science fair next year.

Eyes get huge. (Can see brain working in her head)

Good night my love.

“Good night Mama. I love you.”

I love you too.

Advice from my Daughter

Posted on by
2

Yesterday Saleha asked me why I seem so mad lately. I told her I wasn’t mad, just trying to cope with many things in my head and life – work, family, responsibilities, etc. She had lots of advice for me:

 You worry too much about Lily. She’s got lots of extra time in the mornings to do her homework, so maybe she doesn’t have to finish it all in the afternoon, and she can play. She’s fine – just feed her and buy her clothes and she’ll be happy.

 Well I don’t know about that.

 She’s a good kid. Don’t worry so much about her.

 Then she painted a picture for me:

It’s like you’re in a big hole. And you’re trying to dig yourself out. But instead of digging to get out, you’re too busy fixing other problems in the hole, so you can’t get out.

 What kinds of problems am I trying to fix at the bottom of that hole?

 Feeding us, taking care of us, worrying about us

 But I have to do those kinds of things Saleha, it’s my responsibility

 But you still don’t have to worry so much. 

 Huh. She may be right. Is my life really a big hole that I can’t get out of? Then I told her that lately I’ve been trying to find my lost sense of humor, something I haven’t had in a while. She laughed. Later when we continued to talk about this at bed time, I was overwhelmed by her observation:

You try too hard Mama. We’re all fine. You don’t have to try so hard.

I then told her that Worry and Guilt are my constant companions and have been since she was born. She had this to say:

 What are you guilty of?

Since I started working again, I feel like my head is so full of stuff, that I don’t have enough space to be a good and patient mother

When you get home you should flush your head and get rid of all the stuff. That way you’ll have space. So what are you guilty of?

 I always feel that I don’t do enough for you girls, or spend enough time with both of you.

 I know how to fix that.

 How?

 Let’s go away for a weekend. Just you and me. For one or two nights. Then Dada can do the same with Lily. And we can switch.

That sounds like a fantastic idea.  (Long thoughtful silence) I’m really happy we had this conversation.

 Me too. I love you.

 I love you too Saleha. You ARE my guardian angel.

 Yes I am.