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Tag Archives: Motherhood

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“The best way to keep children at home is to make the home atmosphere pleasant, and let the air out of the tires.”
― Dorothy Parker

 

Motherhood begins with the dreams of a perfect family photo and gratitude for a healthy child. But, it is physically and mentally demanding.  Every decision seems to be wrong and the hopes of fulfilling the magical child in an organic and creative environment are harder to fulfill.

The moments of clarity, and the view from afar, allow moments to treasure.

The artist prince has created his art with an empathetic heart, donations to charity, and a well-cultivated and ambitious combination of business and marketing savvy.  He has turned lemons into spiked lemonade with a wry sense of humor.

The education princess chooses to help her students, and her children, experience learning, self-esteem, and respect in a daily practice to allow them to develop fine characteristics and enhance their faith in G-d.

The museum princess feels safe in the heart of our nation’s public institutions.  She engages visitors, creates educational programming, and has designed a plan to make museums welcoming and inclusive learning environments.

The youngest prince is still trying to find his way.  He has discovered that physical activity and hard work satisfy both his hands and his mind.  He loves to travel and is a loyal friend.  Wherever he goes, he needs to combine a social life with religious observance and stay true to who he wants to be.

It seems that I am far past the point of being able to impart life lessons or ethical decisions.  As a parent, the desire to be involved in our adult children’s lives, but remain an out of sight observer, is a dance that I am still struggling to learn the steps to.   Can they create long-standing relationships between themselves and their families?  What do we leave behind and how do I strengthen who they are going forward?

Have I become irrelevant already?

Their paths have led them so far from where I could have ever imagined.  These are the moments I treasure; reflecting on how much they have achieved and how they are adding their gifts,  imprint, and humanity on the world.

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https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/treasure/

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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Your Days are Numbered.”

I wrote this post in January of 2014. As the post was about my days being numbered, I thought that I would reprint it with today’s number prompt.

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so many candles so little cake

It is January 26th – The day after January 25th. So far you are obviously impressed with my superior manipulation of the obvious.

However, my days truly are numbered and the day after the 25th suddenly becomes more weighted with emotion and consternation. Yesterday, my youngest child turned 18; a big achievement and a milestone for us all. However, while I was happy to hear that it was his best birthday ever, it brought reality crashing into the 26th.

This best birthday had nothing to do with me. He is away at school and happy with his teachers, dorm mates and looking forward to bench pressing at the gym.

I brought him into the world and he is more than ready to fly. In fact, he would fly just about anywhere rather than home. No, I am not being maudlin or feeling sorry for myself, it is simply the truth.  His days of adventure and the freedom to travel, without permission slips as a minor, are stacking up like his collection of boxed basketball shoes.

My kids are more powerful and independent and I am more tired. This may be the cycle of things, but it is still scary to see the unknown third act.  Arthritis is setting into my joints as my son bench presses 900 pounds with his legs.  He cannot get his clothes tight enough and I cannot get mine loose.

He tells me that the ability to push off so much weight is all in the mind.  How did the 18 year old figure this out when I cannot? So, it is January 26th, the first day of the rest of my life with “adult children”. Truly, a Mother’s oxymoron if I ever heard one.

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Thanks for stopping by! It means more than you know.

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funny old lady

When it comes to a friend, give me a real woman of a certain age. That number is not fixed, but an age where you have acquired some wisdom and life experience. Some women learn the hard lessons early in life, and others need to spend more time learning, until they can stand on common ground.

A real woman is not afraid to be honest, straight forward and talk openly about the battle scars that she has earned along the way. Each battle has a story and memories behind it. Whether funny or sad, the scars add up, inside and out, and we keep going, adding even more than we ever thought possible.

A certain age is acquired because it takes time to see parents age, or a loved one pass. A certain age is required to remember what going to a library was like and holding real books in your hand. A woman of a certain age can discuss college, adolescent children, divorce, work, and trying to pay the bills. Women of a certain age can recognize songs from the last 40 years, or more, and remember where they were when they first enjoyed them. Women of a certain age are also not afraid to turn the music up, dance in the car and sing loudly to the radio. That is an age of confidence and reckless abandon, not years.

I have self doubts where once I had confidence. With each betrayal, or new anxiety, time has taught me not to trust as openly and fully as I once did, and replaced it with caution. We build our experiences without forgetting the old. We create a history and, if lucky, a life with someone willing to ride alongside.

Real women of a certain age are able to judge people on their own merits without having to Google them or follow their tweets. They have learned how to trust their intuition and assess a situation similar to one they have had in the past. Women of a certain age have a gage of comparison for human behavior in themselves and others. Real women are rarely at a loss for words. They have learned when it is safe to speak, or keep it to themselves, because they know no one is genuinely listening.

Real women are able to discuss things openly and recognize phoniness at ten paces. Their lives have not been perfect, but they buy their own groceries, work to pay the bills, and suffer through adolescence angst at least twice – once as a teenager and many more times as a mother.

The wonderful thing about real women is they can speak freely and have a great conversation. There is more than enough reality to go around, so you share your stories and remark on the common threads of experiences. We don’t want to have to look over your shoulder, or ours, to find an ulterior motive on the horizon or someone keeping score. We no longer have the patience for the espionage or efforts to tear us down. We have been where you are now, and already succeeded, and begun something new. Just because you want me to prove myself to you, does not mean I have to, because inside I know who I am. The body may be moving slower, but the brain projects even faster.

Real women of a certain age have grown up enough to realize that while things have not turned out the way they always wanted, or don’t look the way they used to, they are all they’ve got, and are survivors, in every way.

Real women have not let go; It is not merely a lack of caring. Rather, it is a searing, fresh desire and ability to communicate deeply about things that no one asked if we were ready to let go of, or cared deeply about, and so we form strong opinions. I wanted to let go of the weight, but the hair went instead. No one gave me a choice, but that is how it goes. I had to leave behind best friends, but gained real time with my family. I have worked long hours, traveled to different jobs, and won awards, but now my job is to help support my family’s financial needs. It may not look impressive in person, or on paper, but it is a priority and my motivation. Real women know that while it is not always appreciated, it is our task and goal to raise the children we bring into the world to the best of our ability. We acknowledge that while they may not have always been our finest moments, we have done the very best we could at the time. The hard choices have to be made, and no one else will accept the responsibility, so a real woman steps up.

For those of you who are younger than me, and are dismissive of my technical skills or count me as part of the invisible generation, remember I have already lived through what you are just contemplating or beginning. I was not born with a mouse in my hand. My learning curve has been steeper and steadier because I am of a certain age. I can communicate in cursive, write thank you notes, and lived through TV screens that went from bigger to smaller and back again. I have worked on manual typewriters, electric typewriters, switchboards, large computers that used Basic, to learning Word, Excel and iPhone apps. I have balanced books with manual ledger and written checks in QuickBooks. My waistline may keep expanding, but so does my mind and world of experience.

Real women don’t speak differently when talking to a man; they speak to every human being earnestly regardless of money, power, or gender. Real women don’t minimize who they are to maximize someone else’s ego. Intelligence and loyalty are to be respected and hard-earned in the ups and downs of daily existence. If there is an issue, let’s talk about it. If I have hurt you, or you have hurt me, we need to be honest about our actions, accountability and our apologies. Or, we could save a lot of time, and treat each other kinder and more compassionately from the beginning. We have all got bruises and keep pushing on. Anger and disappointment are real, revenge and back stabbing are not. Look me in the eye when I speak and don’t climb the ladder of acquisition on my back. Emotions and ego take place, but in a relationship with a real woman, of a certain age, you either choose to move forward or leave the toxic behind. You have better things to do and time is more precious. It is better and more meaningful to be true friends with a real woman, than acquaintances with a superficial one.

It is sobering to realize that I am now of a “certain age.” Turning 50, and acknowledging it, is like tearing off a Band-Aid. Whether you do it fast or slow, it is going to hurt! I keep thinking that the more times I say my age out loud, the more I will get used to it. But it is like the changing of the year, I will be writing the wrong numbers for months.

But I love a real woman who is honest, open, and able to laugh out loud. I respect the woman who has advice on raising adolescents and young adults because she has done it herself, yet realizes that her way is not the only way and recognizes the humor and irony in the process. It takes another grandmother to understand the crazy, boundless love you can have for a new member of the family tree. I appreciate the growing list of health issues, and meds to be taken, while still dreaming of a good margarita. Despite understanding that I might look better in Spanx, but would prefer to be barefoot and admiring my pedicure, is a beautiful thing. Acceptance through awareness and experience is what makes a real woman of a certain age a joy to behold ~~ and the best kind of friend to cultivate.

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Thank you for stopping by! It means more than you know. I hope that you enjoy your visit.

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job of grandmothers to interfere

 

 

Thank you.

Thank you for raising my grandchildren and inviting me to be a part of their lives.

Thank you for face-timing me at the craziest time of the day just so I can see their smiles.

Thank you for running an endless stream of culinary delights to help them to grow strong.

Thank you for protecting them and showing them how strong and organized a mother can be.

Thank you for letting me learn gradually that you are right when it comes to your children and I have to learn to bite my tongue.

Daddy and I get tired just watching you. It is hard to believe that a quarter of a century ago, we were doing the same things. Now, we are grateful and thankful to let you learn from your children how to be a Mommy.

For now, breakfast in bed would too easily become breakfast on the bed.

Physically, mentally, emotionally ~~ motherhood is challenging.  So many sleepless hours pass into oblivion once your child can say “Mommy” and give you a special smile or cuddle.

So, when the time is right, I hope that your children will learn just how hard you worked to raise them. You are a full time teacher, librarian, laundress, caterer, chauffeur, mediator, playmaker, and social director.  You can tell time by your children’s yawns and cries.  You let them fall – where I just gasp – and teach them how to get up again while showing that you are always there.

Happy Mother’s Day Princess! Thank you for all that you do for your children — and for your parents.

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Thank you for stopping by! I hope that you enjoy your visit.
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