Again and Again

Over and over in my life, I find those moments when unconscious expectations rise up to taunt me as especially painful.

Those moments when I am confronted with a new circumstance that rouses unspoken expectations. That moment of hitting a wall within that leaves me sprawled out on the floor - metaphorically speaking - trying to figure out where the pain is coming from. 

Oh, is that you, Change? Is that you, Unknown future? I thought we'd had a little chat about jumping out from behind the bushes along this path that I was simply walking down and enjoying. I mean, you did just pull off quite the show with the whole pandemic thing - talk about changing things up fast and furious. 

What am I talking about this time, you ask?

One of my children has flown the coop - and landed in South Asia for the long haul. Love, engagement, happy new life far, far away from our little corner of the Pacific Northwest. And me, being the tangible, kinesthetic learner that I am - needed to be there with her for a month to grok the fact that she isn't coming back. I understood all of this intellectually, but being there, spending time with her and her partner in their world, brought this home to me in a way I hadn't expected.  She's going to live in a part of the world that is a day ahead of me. She plans to have children whom will obviously grow up very far from me. And that's right where the unexpected, implicit expectation rose up - the image I've had in my head about who I will be as a mother and (if we are all so blessed) grandmother - my role in my daughter's life let alone grandchildren's lives. 

Look, I get it - its silly to think we ever really know how we will show up in any future reality; and yet, I think people do this all the time. We plot and plan, daydream, envision future selves as ways to often sleep at night. 

And here's the thing that is most important - just because this expectation rose up for me to grapple with didn't mean that I couldn't embrace that picture/that desire and also gently lay it to rest. Change HAS to be grieved. In order to let go, we need to shed whatever energy has built up that vision in the first place. For me, tears were part of that - but I shared those tears with my husband, not my daughter. My daughter and I cry over other things but not my sadness over her choices to follow her heart and build a life with this amazing man I will soon call son.  

It doesn't feel that long ago when I was making choices as I built my life as an adult. There were a lot of decisions made where I didn't take my parents wants and desires into account. Theirs was an often vague discontent in my mind. Even when we moved up north and took their precious grandbabies with us, I was sad and got an earful - but I was also looking forward into the excitement of a new job, a salary that we could buy a house with and a new place that wasn't the strip malls of southern California.

And that comes full circle. Now, I am the 50+ year old whose children are all grown and out of the house. They are all looking forward into their own lives, building new relationships, planning new adventures. I want them to be happy in their lives, actively pursuing their dreams - and I feel more of a spectator now rather than an active participant. As it probably should be. 

Musing on this grief and sense of change, I also hold my father as an example of how supportive a parent can be as an elder - the main cheerleader, the helper, the listener, the guide when needed. He prioritized building relationships with his grandchildren often by simply being present. He prioritized our ability to help each other with all the mundane things in life that often need a helping hand. He was approachable, available, and collaborative. And he seemed to enjoy creating his own adventures, continually crafting how he wanted to interact with the world - painting, camping, building furniture and volunteering almost everyday at the local elementary school. 

Its not that I need to let go of my children - I need to let go of those pesky expectation and outcomes that somehow cling to my brain. Adaptation takes time, reflection and sometimes, yes, grief.

Balance. Letting go, loving always, building new paths with others and for oneself.

Renaissance

Life after kids is Good.
I could just leave it at that.

The thing is, people ask me how it feels to have the last little chick out of the nest and I tell them it is amazing - that I'm as giddy as a kid in a candy store - and that's when I get these slightly startled looks.

I share with folks how fabulous it is to be a couple again - not parents, not so-and-so's mom and dad, not the triage team. Look, I'll always be a mom, but I am really happy to not be actively parenting. I have this amazing man, my partner, best friend and lover of 28 years by my side and we are happy. If we ran through the house naked the weekend after the little chick was delivered to her college dorm - who would know? That's just a rhetorical question of course.

Those startled looks either turn wistful by this point or the grins start to appear.

Life is Good

And its kind of sad that folks seem surprised that the empty nest can be such an amazing, life-affirming time.

Look, its not all giddiness and contentment. There have been some adjustments in the rhythm here at home. I'm used to cooking like a short order chef for multiple tastes and preferences. I was used to having some little rug rat in my personal space 24/7 - and -  to keeping my cell phone next to my bed when the rug rats were out for the night. I was used to juggling my work, hobbies, and friendships around the schedules of child care. Even when said child was seventeen.

All of which has been really easy to let go of.

Getting to focus on a loving, wonderful relationship with an extraordinary man and having found myself in a professional space that I love - I've had no problem retiring from active parenting.

I don't know how I got myself here to this juncture in my life with such a grateful and optimistic attitude. Its been a joy filled experience, the care and keeping of children, but that ride is over. Sure I wonder what life has in store for me now that I have given the world three more mouths to feed but I am also really enjoying the peace and yes, the quiet, of having them move on. Granted, the youngest is home for breaks while she goes to college but she is also an adult now and its her choices and decisions that guide her onward. We're not done supporting her - in all the ways that needs to happen; however, I am done trying to manage her development. That, my friends, is an amazing burden to set down.

Besides, I have this great guy to have fun with, a house that needs to be cleaned out (such the slow process) and part-time work that is keeping me incredibly engaged and busy. I have family and friends, colleagues and students. I don't know if I just got lucky or maybe the whole 'lonely' and depressing empty nest scenario is really just another myth. I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who hit that time in their lives with pain and distress. And yet, when I think about the couples I know who have all had their children leave home - I see resilience and renaissance.

Renaissance is actually a perfect word for this time in my life.

I am going to keep answering that question about life after kids with a heartfelt "wonderful" and keep watching that startled look become a little more hopeful and thoughtful.

Dumb Mommy Wars?

Over on Jezebel there is an article that perked my interest. Stay-At-Home Mom Would Like Other Stay-At-Home Moms to Shut Up. (Thanks Dayna for sharing, btw.)This article is basically responding to another article written on YourTango.com, (Susannah Lewis, author of "Dear Stay-At-Home Moms, Shut The Eff Up") which also generated another public response (author S. Janesse who wrote "I'm A Stay-At-Home Mom Who Can't (And Won't) STFU, Thanks!") on the same website. Is this hot or is this hot?

Let's see if I can keep all these lovely mother/writers straight. It's Tracy Moore in her Jezebel article that says "This just in: From deep inside enemy lines, proof that the Dumb Mommy Wars rage on in the hearts and homes of women in spite of our best efforts to move on."

Is that what's been going on? Who's best efforts and what are we moving on from? And guess what, an acronym has finally been created - SAHM (stay-at-home mom) - to make sure that we all understand that this is a lifestyle and professional choice, a quick way to identify yourself to friends and associates.

If I count the years that I didn't have to put any children in daycare - from infancy to about eleven when they could be latchkey children legally - I'd figure that number is somewhere around twenty. Twenty years that I was the primary care giver for my kids. That's what I get for having my last pregnancy a bit farther out from the other two.

Please note my language of choice. Please take note of how I carefully skirt the whole SAHM identifier. Like a lot of parents - women and men both,  I worked odd jobs (paid and unpaid) while also making sure that my kids were not left as toddlers in a room full of sharp knives. This was done while also tasked with the maintenance of house (and apartments over the years) and the people who abided there. I did not do this work alone - it took a hell of a village to raise my kids with lots of credit going to their father, my parents, a sister, teachers and many friends. I don't like labels because they distract us from the incredibly unique circumstances that each of us face as parents.

We - as human beings - love making our experiences everyone else's. And while Tracy Moore attempts to debunk the patronizing rant that seems to be the favorite flavor of Lewis' type of article (and I use the word 'article' loosely) - she ends up clobbering her readers with her own holier than thou attitude. Dumb Mommy Wars, anyone? What mommy wars? Who can make me feel less than someone else? Who makes me feel less accomplished, equipped or competent?

And why are we still trying to justify our choices when it comes to how we choose to be a family? Each author is judgmental and more interested in shutting down the 'other side' than listening to the obvious underlying tensions that come with managing relationships - with children, spouses or the other parents that circulate through their lives. Lewis claims that she is an expert SAHM (there are levels to this role, you see) and therefore is qualified to make certain observations on her kind. This opened her up to all sorts of commentary on her stand about privileged women whining about being home with kids. She's sick of the whining and I hope she found a tactful way (other than sending her editorial piece to friends via email) to set some boundaries for herself.

No one has to sit and listen to someone else vent. Why does that become the problem of the woman who feels the need to moan, vent or whine?  Why is the venter vilified when in fact the listener isn't skilled at communicating her inability to be present for this supposed friend? God, I've been there as ranter and listener. I've needed to vent like a proper pressure cooker and I've stumbled through telling someone that I can't hear another word about their problems with their housekeeper. But here's the kicker - why, then, is this cranky listener (Lewis) vilified for not wanting to hear the whining of her fellow privileged SAHMs? Probably because she mocked their dreams and yoga pants. Mocking, contempt and scorn often come back to bite one in the end. It masks her own pain.

The three articles taken together perhaps define the dumb mommy wars better than anything I could come up with. There is a noticeable lack of compassion for the varied perspectives of parenthood. It is one thing to point out how I may have a different experience than someone else, its another to use ridicule and scorn to dismiss someone's point of view. (Janesse stayed away from that - kudos to you.)

I can't help but move into a dose of empathy for each of the various stories:

"I don't know how to tell other people that I have my limits when it comes to listening."
- or -
"I have a different experience and like sharing my feelings with others because it helps me be more present with my kids."
- or -
"I need to talk about my ambivalence, my love of family and work, so I can keep making sense of the choices I make."

What a different conversation would emerge to have these three voices of motherhood simply speak for their varied experiences. No right, no wrong - just what I can do to make sense of where I'm at right now.

What a richer, messy, complicated picture gets created which opens up the conversation for the rest of us to share our experiences in.

Cell Phone Powered Off

I guess there was a reason that I finally got a cell phone all those years ago. I was pregnant with my youngest and it seemed prudent to have a portable phone with me for emergencies. My son got a cell phone for his sixteenth birthday, again, more as a safety line while driving then a mobile computer. Of course, way back in those days (2003) cell phones were just that - simple phones that didn't even have texting capabilities. It was used when we were, well, mobile.

Technology changes and my youngest got a phone when she was about eleven. With both her siblings off at college, it felt - here's that word again - prudent to give her a way to contact me as needed. She was thirteen when I went back to work full-time and there was a thread of communication that went back and forth between us over that phone. We could text each other without it interfering with classes or meetings.

This is all probably pretty standard in most family homes these days. Kids have cell phones for all sorts of reasons - ease of communication, emergencies, juggling all those social networks and schedules. Heck, my daughter was more apt to tell me how she was feeling over text than face-to-face.

And yet...
And yet.

Okay, so the youngest child left for college over a week ago. For the last four years - all through high school - I have usually charged my cell phone next to my bed. It was silenced but on. Over these years, this daughter of mine, would often text me in the middle of the night when her own world felt overwhelming and distressful. Or she would ask me something, obviously awake at 3 am. There were nights where she was out with friends and missed checking in or curfew. There were nights that she wasn't where she had said she would be. There were nights that I got calls at 3am and there were nights that she was out with people that I did not trust. There were nights that I asked her to simply send me a 'good night' when I knew she had landed somewhere to sleep. So I knew she was safe.
It's not easy knowing about the kids who have been selling drugs, bringing guns to parties, doing meth in the girl's bathroom, going into the city for all-night raves and driving under the influence. That's the world of teenagers she kept rubbing shoulders with. I know how complicated that world is and I feel deep compassion for the struggle that so many teens have in this culture. I'd say that in some ways my daughter was drawn to suffering and her compassion put her in places that scared the crap out of me.

The thread of communication via our cell phones helped me sleep and sometimes kept me awake all night. I had too much information - and not enough. The instant communication that comes with the cell phone would be agonizing when she didn't answer at 2am. The illusion of safety when she texted me back that she was fine and at a particular agreed upon location helped me often roll back over and go to sleep. I knew it was an illusion. She could be anywhere doing all sorts of things and I really had no idea beyond the fact that she had answered in a coherent enough way to soothe my anxiety ridden brain.

One of the things I was looking forward to as she headed out to college was turning off my cell phone at night. For me, this would symbolize releasing this child of mine into her adult life. If there was an emergency she would call the house phone.

It was hard to turn my cell phone off.

I stood frozen over the power switch. How odd, I thought, watching myself. This way of worrying, this anxiety that I had to be accessible immediately to her, felt so deeply embedded.  I had been her 911 button. My fears and anxiety had helped create that dynamic in our relationship. I could taste the fear of What Might Happen if I stopped being so vigilant...

Oh.

There it was.

And I gently turned off the phone.

Vigilance is scar tissue for me from my own past. I knew enough about my fears and their voices that whisper to me in the night to realize that the only way to change this feeling was to push through and let time give me a new experience. The cell phones had simply become a tool for the fear, feeding and assuaging it at the same time.

Time is needed and I can throw some compassion my own way.

I miss my youngest child - as I miss my other daughter who lives across the country. Love and care do that to us.
And that's the soul-centered place I want to be in when I do use this amazing technology to connect with them.

Count Down to Empty Nest

The day my youngest child heads out to her new college is fast approaching. On Thursday, her dad drives her over the mountains to her new residence in a truck stuffed full of everything she thinks she will need. This multitude of boxes includes a rice cooker, an orchid and a couple dozen stuffed animals.

I have asked myself: Is she ready?

Was I?

And then I asked: Who’s not quite ready for her to leave?

I have found the dance of parenting particularly intricate with this last child. She’s the ‘baby of the family’ and she’s an only child with her siblings nine and six years older. I don’t even think I can completely understand the relationship that I have co-created - how can I see what I am so deeply embedded in? What's really important is how ready she is to get out of this house and breathe the fresh air of living her own life instead of being immersed in my protective bubble.

“I’m not sure I trust her to make good decisions.” My husband said this last night after a difficult summer that included her car being totaled. By her.

And then I asked: Can you trust your ability to love wholeheartedly knowing that the other person is on a journey that will most likely include choices that you would not make?

We, as many parents, anxiously hope that our baby will teeter into the world infused with our sage wisdom and experience. Obviously, she hasn't grown up in a vacuum, but right now she just feels the exhilaration and growing pains of becoming her own person. It’s a hard process to bring a word like trust into. It’s front-loaded with expectations, values and conditions - all geared to a parent's peace of mind. Wanting to "trust in another" is all about the person who wants, not the person who is targeted to provide. 

My husband spoke to that as well - about letting go, releasing this bundle of joy out into the universe for a purpose that is hers to explore and discover. When we let go, we start trusting that we can be separate and thrive in our different ways. We trust that whatever happens, we – parents and children - will find the strength and compassion to learn, grow and love. When life challenges our hearts, we want to have faith in our ability to move through those moments. 

We let go, because no matter what we think, we can’t ‘trust’ any other person on this planet to do exactly what we think they ‘should’.

It isn’t any surprise to me that the seemingly earth-shattering and most difficult questions we are asking as the last child packs for college are concerned with potential loss (of life, limb, sanity, trust). The fundamental questions are reverberating loudly because this time - with this change - our world axis is actually shifting. Within a couple of days, the twenty eight years of having children in the house will be history - a wonderful history that began when I was 22 years old. We are all clinging – yes, daughter included – to old dynamics even as we embrace the new. She’s giddy about college and reluctant to leave home. I’m giddy about not having kids in the house and not sure how I won’t worry about her eating habits. There’s comfort in where we’ve been even as we outgrow those old ways of being. The push and pull of this moment is larger than just one kid heading out to college.

She feels it, so do I. Our other children feel it too. My older daughter who lives on the east coast told me today that she can’t wait to see how her father and I will settle into our own relationship that isn’t centered around the care and keeping of children. She’s excited for us as a couple. So am I. 

I look forward to having my children in my life as adults, as people who know me in ways that no one else ever will and as people that I have watched grow from their very first breaths into amazing human beings. And, very soon, I get to put down the parenting hat which feels like the end of a very long marathon.

The youngest child has a few more years of moving in and out of our lives as a dependent. The marathon might be over but I'm sure we'll have a few laps around the field of support and needs. I'm optimistic. Why not? My hope is that the parent/child dynamics will begin to wane as she becomes more and more independent.

As I become more and more independent.

It’s a two way street as we both step into the changes of growing up and older.

Dawn

I drank my coffee out on the porch this morning and watched the dawn of a beautiful day. Here in the northwest, getting up before dawn means being awake around 4am - which is even a little early for me.

I woke up earlier than usual because we had a guest on the porch needing a place to crash - a good friend of my daughter's who didn't want to go home due to a particular volatile presence there. We have a spare bed - no problem.

I made a cup of coffee and proceeded out to the porch.
And thought about how difficult it is to watch kids deal with the dysfunctional legacy of their parents. It's hard to see the way that children end up having to carry the burden of abusive behavior.

I want to go strangle someone.

I'm angry because I can see the damage being done to this kid's self esteem - this bright, beautiful human being who just wants a chance to make his own way in the world.

I know that I've passed on pieces of legacy to my own kids - good and bad. We can't help carrying around our own odd way of dealing with the world and, whether we like it or not, those ways impact the people closest to us - like the children who grow up immersed in that particular brand of "normal".

And children are extremely good at absorbing the messages we inadvertently send.

So I think about this as I sit ensconced on the porch.  I think about the complicated, layered process called growing up and all the messages we pile on our children that they spend a lifetime trying untangle. Its inevitable - this is living. This is the moment of defining one's self as separate from the stories that we've been fed - of knowing who we are instead of what other people think about us. How do we help young people do this?

It is the dawn of a new day - the day that marks the beginning of the rest of my life.
The day invites us to bring ourselves more fully into the act of living - and accepting that we each have journeys ahead while carrying burdens that are ours alone.

And if I can help ease that burden for another human being by providing a spare bed - good.
Sleep well.

Favorite Motherhood Moments

This list is obviously incomplete but here are a few memories that come to mind this Mother’s Day:

1.       Discovering the epidural… with the last birth out of three.

2.       The smell of my children’s heads.

3.       Tricking Andy into getting up every night to change diapers.

4.       Listening to my nine year old son explain his underwater sea base from which he is going to rule the world. “So, as a mom of an evil overlord, can I have Hawaii?” He gave that some thought and finally said ‘sure.”

5.       Discovering my oldest daughter is an artist when she used a rock to draw on the side panel of my car. She was so proud of her work – for about ten seconds. It’s possible that that is also the moment she realized I was a lot faster than she was – at four.

6.       Watching my youngest toddler out-tease her teasing grandfather.

7.       Watching my youngest boss her two older siblings around – still a toddler – and have them do what she says.

8.       Teaching all three kids the proper way to burn marshmallows over an open fire.

9.       Taking my eleven year old son out in Age of Empires after he kept stealing his sister’s sheep. “Mom, why are your trebuchet’s in my town?”  “Uh, we’re just visiting?”

10.   Visiting the zoo to take youngest daughter to see “her lemur.”

11.   Any time I have a child’s head in my lap in need of some mental massage.

12.   Sunday night dinners.

13.   Any time we all get to be together.

14.   Any moment when I’ve seen my children realize how unique and amazing they are – in and of themselves – because they keep following their passions with courage and heart.

A moment to reflect on parenting a teenager

I’ve begun to notice a significant shift in the relationship I have with my teenage daughter. Slightly suspicious of such changes, I’ve kept my thoughts to myself while wondering whether the shift is her growth as a young adult or my growth as a premenopausal woman who can’t seem to hold on so tightly to anxiety anymore.

Seriously, I’ve noticed that anxiety and I aren’t best buddies lately. Sure, on occasion, we visit and it’s just like old times, but for the most part, anxiety just doesn’t live inside me the way it used to. This is a blessing because I do still have a seventeen year old living with me after all. The cast of odd-ball characters in her world would make any parent shudder but at least the lead actors – the kids closest to her – are fairly well grounded. And she navigates this world of drugs, alcohol and other unhealthy decisions (cheating, skipping school, etc…) with wide, open eyes and a sense of what is best for her. I see her learning. I see her kindness. I see the burgeoning development of wisdom - or at least a sense of self-preservation - and I’ve learned that that is pretty much as good as it gets as a parent.

Everything else is gravy.  

So somewhere over the last few months I let go of trying to control her outcomes. I let go of the notion that I actually have the power to cushion her falls. She’s making her life happen now and doesn’t need or want a backseat driver. Being part of the pit crew is still my task; however, it’s up to her how she is going to take the turns and what speed she wants to travel at. That place in the driver’s seat also means that she’s going take the lumps from whatever spinouts happen – like paying for a new cell phone that she broke. I see her working hard to figure out how to balance everything in her life and sometimes it’s a struggle. And yet, she keeps strapping herself back in and heading back out into this crazy race called growing up.

Alright, enough racing metaphors. I get carried away sometimes.

What I’m grappling with is the changing response I am noticing within myself in regards to parenting. The lower anxiety is paralleling my sense of her resiliency. It is a wondrous thing to look at your child and start seeing their ability to manage life decisions for themselves.

While I am still actively parenting this youngster, I’ve shifted my focus now to help her understand what it means to be an adult – not how to get her to adulthood.  I have savored getting to know my other adult children and so I can see my youngest growing up without any fears that our relationship is going to be anything but rich and filled with love. I really enjoy the moments of not worrying so much – even knowing that there will be times ahead that will cause sleepless nights and concern.

That pretty much defines a life lived loving other people regardless of age.

Conversations about New Beginnings

It was about twenty six years ago that I signed on for a particular job that has defined my life in ways I never expected.


young parents who had no idea
what was about to happen to their lives
 

Job Description: The care and support of three children. Sometimes known as raising a family. No prior experience necessary. On the job training provided whether you like it or not. Hours: 24/7.  Possibility for advancement – only if you count potty training and ability to drive a car at 16 as liberating moments.

Luckily, I didn’t have to do this alone but I have been the primary caregiver for three precocious children who are now becoming three amazing adults. With my youngest now sifting through college brochures and getting ready to turn eighteen this fall an odd thought occurred to me: In about eighteen months, I’m going to be retiring from this raising a family gig – whether I like it or not. Active parenting will be shifting into a very different role where it is no longer my job to protect, guide and provide 24/7 support and triage.

I could say quite a lot about women and roles and what I’ve learned along the way about the choices that I made – but that’s in the past now. I look at these kids of mine and think they are pretty damn cool. I think they’ve done most of that for themselves – with a little help from the parenting pit crew. The courage and strength I see in them humbles me and I ask myself – is that courage living within me as well?

Andy and I had a chance to talk this past weekend as we wandered around Friday Harbor on San Juan Island. I told him how I love the San Juan Islands and felt more at home in Friday Harbor than I did in our current community. And then I even went a step further and told him that I may want to live up there on a more permanent basis – after our youngest is off to college.

He asked me why – in a very thoughtful and receptive way which gave me the space to answer in kind. I was able to share with him my love of the ocean and land that makes up the ecology of the islands. I grew up on the beach and the ocean makes me happy. I told him how I liked the fact that there isn’t a Costco, Wal-Mart or Home Depot around the block nor is there a Starbucks, McDonald’s or Applebees on the corner. Even the market is independently owned. In the winter the town is quiet; many shops are closed from January through March. In the summer, the farmer’s market brings in produce from all the local islands. It is fun watching the farmers pull up to the docks and unload bucket after bucket of freshly cut flowers. I feel the simplicity of contentment.

It was a good conversation.

I’m noticing how I am questioning all sorts of values and ways that I live my life. At some point, it won’t matter what school district we live in or if we have enough space for three kids, a dog and, on average, two cats. After all these years of being anchored to live in a particular area, I’ve got to be honest, I’m looking forward to considering what is important to me as Andy and I adjust to living as a couple.

Maybe it’s a pipe dream – I don’t know yet. What I do know is that these conversations that we are having as a couple are very important. We need to speak about what our expectations are – the stories in our head about what life without kids running around underfoot means. We are having conversations about our values and beliefs, sharing what dreams are calling us into the future and what fears we have as well.  This is just the beginning of a dialogue that will be years in the making.

I seldom end up where I wanted to go, but almost always end up where I need to be.- Douglas Adams

Planting the Blueberry Bushes Anyway

I am very aware today that time is marching on.

My 24 year old daughter is leaving the northwest tomorrow to head east for work and living. Watching her sort through the boxes that have been collecting dust up in the attic of her childhood and college years has certainly brought home the fact that she is putting her life in order so that she can move full throttle into her adulthood. I’m thrilled to see her reaching for her dreams. I’m delighted that she’s been so smart about it. I’m glad that when I buy chocolate now, it will be there when I want it.

She moved back in for about 3 months while transitioning from a job and traveling across the globe.  It isn’t the easiest thing to have an adult child move back in but we were all pretty clear that the only way it would work was if it was temporary.  We have a great relationship – and no one wanted to regress. She didn’t want parenting. I didn’t want to parent her. We all tried - success was marginal.

I’ve got one child still at home who has the honor of receiving the gift of my parenting – and she turns eighteen this year. This is where I start hearing that marching beat. One child married, the other moving back east and the youngest looking at colleges and figuring out when she’s going to take the SAT.

This really does have something to do with blueberry bushes.

See, the thing is I’ve always tended to plot out projects two or three years out – especially in regards to the yard. I planted asparagus last year which means next year I get to harvest it. I almost didn’t plant it.  This winter, I’ve decided to remake some of my garden space into beds that require lower maintenance. I don’t want quite so much to tend this year – or any year after, actually.  So why plant anything at all especially if it’s going to take a while for certain bushes – like blueberries or raspberries – to get big enough to bear fruit?

The answer is simple enough – I have no idea what I will be doing in 2-3 years. I don’t have a crystal ball. So why not plant the blueberry bushes and raspberry vines? I can sow wildflowers in the other beds and let pumpkins grow wildly throughout the space.  Here’s my epiphany: I don’t need to continue to tend the garden in the same way that I have in the past.  

I am not tending my children in the same ways I have in the past either.  It’s all about letting go.

The blueberries are planted now, taking over space that was devoted to rows of vegetables last year.  They’ll need a little water now and then, maybe a trim – but other than that, I’ll just let them grow and flourish on their own.

Olympics: Reality TV Starring the Parents

"If parenting were an Olympic sport, this year’s games would probably see several world records broken." Global Post

"London 2012 is proving to be a family affair, with parents' reactions to their children competing as big a spectacle as sports" Time Magazine

Am I the only one wondering if the summer Olympics should be subtitled "the year of the parent?" Now, don't get me wrong, seeing the Proctor and Gamble ad that lovingly, brilliantly instills in our minds that each Olympian is someone's child made me tear up a bit - the first time I saw it. Seeing the ad over and over during prime time got a little old. Especially when NBC's coverage seemed much more interested in covering the parent's reactions up in the stands then giving more time to the athletic competition. Call me crazy, but I would rather have seen some of the Chinese women gymnastics team perform than getting cozy with USA's fab five's parents. The next morning, turn on the TV and there they are again - this time on the Today show with their gold medal winning daughters. One of the parental units reactions in the stands have gone viral over YouTube. It's gone beyond just giving the audience a sense of the athlete's personal story and triumph - now winning is a family affair. It's reality TV filled with parental angst.

Why am I chewing on this?

About fifteen years ago I was standing in a dance studio watching my daughter take a ballet class. It was a new studio for us and there was a fairly serious vibe in the place that promoted creating dancers that would go on to have careers as ballerinas. Not why we were there. My daughter just liked to dance.

Standing next to me was a well coiffed, manicured woman with tight lips and a gleam in her eye that was just a bit maniacal. I didn't realize it at the time - but she was the Scary Helicopter Parent dead set on making sure that her daughter became the next greatest ballerina. She was talking with a friend about how her daughter had asked to play soccer with her friends and she (the mother) had made it clear that there was no time in her daughter's schedule to play some sport just to be with her friends from school. Besides, within a few years, the girl would leave that school, start working with a tutor and be in dance classes all day. Her friends would be with her, here at the studio, studying in the back room in between dance classes.

I edged away even as I heard her launch into a scathing critique of all the other girls in the class and how she was going to talk to her precious child about paying better attention.

Part of me was horrified - another part fascinated. Is that what dedication looks like?

Through soccer, basketball, softball, baseball, and volleyball - I've met this woman in the shape of moms and dads on the sidelines. I've also met the loving parents of dynamic athletes who are somewhat bewildered by the drive and dedication of their child.   What I liked about those bewildered parents was that they knew they were the pit crew. They did what was needed to support their child's drive - but it was about the kid, not the parent's sacrifice or determination.

Ultimately, that child either has the talent or not to 'go for the gold'. Is it just their hard work, talent and abilities that defines them? Nope - it's also about the hard work and dedication of the parent. This is what we celebrate here in the United States: you can't separate a child's success from the parent.  And our media sources are simply cementing that in place. More helicopter parents are on their way.

Okay, fine - however screwed up or enlightened that might be - I would just like to see more competition coverage and less parental performances.

Have a Teenage Daughter? Call your Girlfriend

My youngest has been spitting nails for a few days now. I think it is safe to say that hormones have played a hand in her impulse-driven, wild-eyed, I-hate-the-world attitude. She didn’t believe me until I reminded her about similar experiences in the recent past that just happen to line up with what we call premenstrual syndrome. She stopped gnashing her teeth at me long enough to look thoughtful.

It really was a hellacious day.

I kept telling myself – she doesn’t mean it – she does care – she doesn’t really want me to jump off a cliff and die. She really isn’t going to run off to L.A., become a crack addict and work Sunset Blvd. 

But she knows just what to say to make me want to say ‘you don’t mean that.’ 

The ultimate trump card in the teenager’s arsenal: telling their parent they are going to do the worst possible thing they can think of and having their parent stutter, wide-eyed with horror – ‘you don’t mean that.’

Instead I just looked at her and said, ‘you’re a mess’ and left the room. I’ve evolved – I’m not going to let her slap that trump card down on the table between us.  Doing what any smart and savvy mother would do – I called my best friend and told her I was opening up a bottle of wine. She asked if that was really what I wanted to drink and I contemplated the vodka in the liquor cabinet but thought better of it. The hangover would suck. Wine it is. Just don’t make me drink it alone, is what I said, and she came right over.

My best friend’s daughter is thirteen and we often swap stories from the trenches of hormonally induced craziness that is female puberty. The truth is I know exactly how my daughter feels. Guess what perimenopause feels like, sweetheart? When my girlfriend and savior shows up, my child actually comes down stairs and glances at the brimming wine glasses. Yes, my dear, you have driven me to drink this day. The satisfied gleam in her eye makes me smile. Bring it on - I’ve brought in reinforcements. I’ve called in my own personal coach to help talk me off the ledge of strangling my sweet, precious little girl.

The three of us start sharing stories. Being a woman; dealing with hormones and cycles and life is not a new subject. My girlfriend shares her own stories with her changeling female child and my daughter can’t help but crack a smile. It seems like she finally can hear that the personal hellhole she has been in isn’t because she is going insane. No, love, this is just life in the female body.

My daughter eventually retreats back to her black pit of despair – okay, it wasn’t that bad but she is sixteen and has just experienced her first break up on top of all that hormonal goodness (she’ll roll her eyes if she actually reads this – but this is my revenge, so, chill hon).  My girlfriend and I take our wine out onto the porch. Deep breaths, smiles and we silently toast each other with our glasses. I need our time together to regroup and remember who I am, what I’m capable of. Parenting takes a fierce kind of love and sometimes I feel completely inept in my ability to support this incredibly smart and sensitive child of mine.

By the time my friend leaves, and we’ve surprisingly only shared about a half a bottle of wine, I’m reminded that with that fierceness comes a certain kind of tenacity. I just need to keep showing up. I’ve got to let go of the words and listen, instead, to what I see and what isn’t said. I’ve got to see her – not who I think she is.

I need to keep my girlfriend on speed dial.

A Ceremony Worth Celebrating

I’ve wanted to write about my son’s upcoming nuptials for weeks and guess what happened?  The wedding was last weekend.

This is what happens when one is busy experiencing the event.

I really wouldn’t want to have it any other way. 

Juxtaposed with the whirlwind of wedding activities was enjoying family from California.  My sister-in-law is approximately my age with a great husband and four kids all under the age of eleven. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I was managing the care and keeping of three kids much in the same way that she is. And yet, here I am watching my oldest get married. Blink and there he is, standing in front of the officiant saying wedding vows to a remarkable and lovely young woman.  The little boy who was going to take over the world with his underwater laser base couldn’t keep the tears at bay when he saw his bride walk down the aisle.

It was pretty much a golden moment.

I am no longer an advocate for elopement – and my girls better listen up as I say this. Being witness to these two young people making a vow and commitment to each other was very important for me. My heart warmed as I heard my son speak his vows to his bride; however, it was her vows to him that cracked my heart wide open. This woman, who loves my son with all of her heart, took the responsibility to ‘be the shelter for his heart.’  I felt a deep sense of contentment and satisfaction as something almost intangible seemed to slip away from me into her hands – the care and keeping of the man my son has become.

I will always be his mom but it was through the witnessing of their vows that I also get to step down from the primary female role in his life. Frankly, I’ve felt that since the day he took her on their first date and there was joy in my heart even then. This time, however, the knowledge feels more solemn as if I, too, am making a commitment to honor their marriage partnership foremost by simply being a loving presence and support for both of these amazing young people.

Ceremony and ritual are not just for those in the center of the room.  The community that witnesses the ceremony is woven into the fabric of the vows and intentions as spoken.  Watching this particular community celebrate these nuptials gave me a peek at the love, humor and care that will undoubtedly continue to grace the lives of my son and daughter-in-law.  What a blessing!

And so, at the end of the day, as my guests head home and I slowly begin to put crystal and china away, I am conscious of being a woman with children who are quickly launching into their own adult lives (yes, one is still flapping in the nest - but she’s on her way).  I am aware of how quiet this big farmhouse of ours is. Empty rooms, echoes of voices and the thunder of little feet.  Memories savored, and yet - tomorrow beckons to me just as it does to my son. He steps into marriage and a future family of his own. I step towards my own new chapter.

Each and every day.

Mother's Day

Dearest Children,

There was a time when Mother’s Day was equivalent to the best of all holidays.  This was because it was a day that I was guaranteed a meal that I didn’t have to cook and I got to spend time in whatever manner I chose. Yes, this often meant you had to go to the local garden center with me and haul plants first thing on a Sunday morning. It also included a stop at Starbucks so everyone would have a good sugar rush for an hour or so. I don’t think the caffeine ever quite negated the fact that you were up before noon on a Sunday, but hey, it was Mother’s Day and you couldn’t complain.

So it may come as a surprise that I’ve been thinking about this and feel differently than in years past.  I know this isn’t nice of me – I finally get you all trained to stumble bleary eyed through the rows of plants and now I want to do something different?

Did I ever teach you that life was fair? I think not.

Here’s the thing: I get that quiet time to myself a lot now.  I’m not running around like a crazy person trying to raise three kids, clean, cook, volunteer, and work; be a friend, daughter, wife, student, sister, event coordinator, accountant, chauffeur, travel agent or counselor.  With two of you living on your own and the youngest of you now driving – my current job position is nothing like what it used to be.  I’ve retained the job title – mom – but what goes with that has shifted into something a little more intangible.

This is what I want for Mother’s Day this year:

I want you to listen.

To you, my oldest:

For today, this Mother’s Day, I want you to set aside your worries and fears – and simply feel the wonder and beauty of your life.  You are a blessing and you have been blessed. Just for today, set down the burden of decisions and choices, feel the lightness in your own being. Look into the eyes of your beloved and feel how beautiful love is. Set aside your worries and let the sun warm your face.  Come on over and share a glass of wine and a laugh or two. Tell me a dream or two and I’ll share a couple of my own. I have no fears for you, no worries – just love and a deep admiration for the man you’ve become.

To you, my oldest daughter:

Today, dear girl, I would like you to admit to yourself that you are absolutely awesome. Keep on fine-tuning what balance looks like to you.  Keep being the honest, passionate, beautiful woman that you are.  Smooth edges are for soft people –  keep honing those brilliant edges that define your vibrant self.  The woman who is the artist is she who can see beyond what everyone else sees.  That takes a rare courage – something I don’t think you’ve ever really seen in yourself.  So – just for today – admit to yourself how brave and brilliant you are.  And then go curl up in the sun for a nap. Preferably with a cat.

To my youngest:

Sweet pea, you have a beautiful heart filled with empathy, kindness and a boundless compassion.  Today, give some of that compassion and kindness right back to the heart that gives so freely to others. Listen to that heart and yet also keep using your newfound wisdom that comes from understanding that not everyone else around you can see the light in others like you can.  For today, find your light and cherish it. Keep seeking what gives you strength and what calms your fears.  My arms are open and I’ll keep practicing releasing you out into the world that is calling you forward.

Being your mother has given me the opportunity to learn the most important lessons in life. Each of you has graced me with the most incredible blessings possible.  I may have given each of you life but you’ve given me a rich and wonderful life too.

With love,

Your mom

Aging Moms Prefers Daughters over Husbands?

Articles like these drive me crazy:
Aging Moms Prefer Daughter to Hubby Study Finds

Originally on an ABC news blog and ‘reblogged’ on Huffington Post, the article basically says that “research shows” that as women age they prefer their daughters as best friends and confidants more than their husbands.

“Study finds,” “Research shows” are always red flags for me. I am immediately skeptical.  Not to mention that the whole slant of the article makes me shudder.  This is the kind of journalism-lite that I hate because too many people pay attention to the journalist’s perspective without looking at the data for themselves.  All is rosy and sweet – isn’t it cute how so many women turn to their daughters as best friends?  One line is devoted to the daughter’s perspective of feeling stalked by her parent. Now we're talking interesting - but one line is all she gets.

But that’s beside the point.  Okay, it’s part of the point but here is MY bigger pet peeve: the study itself.
The study: http://www.nature.com/srep/2012/120419/srep00370/full/srep00370.html

Here’s an excerpt from the Discussion part of the study:

The assumption that mobile phone communication represents the most of important relationships of subscribers and that the strength of communication reflects the level of emotional closeness, these results allow us to draw four conclusions... (#2)as they age, women's attention shifts from their spouse to younger females, whom we assume, on the basis of the age difference, to be their daughters.

Each conclusion “assumes” truths based on unverified values. Why?  Because the researchers basically culled through a bunch of cell phone data records looking at gender and age and how often calls were made to a 'best friend.' Now, go back and read that first sentence again – what did they base that assumption about mobile phone use on? Hell, that’s a study in and of itself.  Moreover, they didn’t have the data that actually verifies any of the relationships between the cell phone users.  If an older woman is calling a younger woman a lot – it must be her daughter.  That’s flawed logic.

That, a scientific study, does not make.  Granted, the researchers are more interested in establishing some data on how different genders invest in relationships with other or same genders as time passes – they cross a line, however, when they start drawing conclusions as to who is who for a given subject based off of cell phone usage.

However, as reported out in the articles that followed on ABC and Huffington, the conclusions support a need in our culture for a large population of women to continue to be helicopter parents. (The conclusions also could be read to reveal a surprising level of loneliness that middle age women  feel and how hard it is to give up a role of all-knowing wisdom and authority.)  Now these women have a study to support their desire to continue to focus all their attention on adult children and not deal with the realities of an aging relationship that will take work and tending. Empty nest, anyone? The journalist with ABC does gently suggest through the words of a psychologist that this way of being in relationship with your adult child can become toxic or poisonous.  But that only makes sense if a person recognizes what healthy boundaries are in the first place.

People like to hear what supports their views on life.  We like to be validated in our way of thinking.  It is scary to me that there are so many women who buy into the veracity of the assumptions presented - that daughters can fulfill the need for closeness better than a partner.   

Read the data, ask questions and then decide in what world is it okay to call your daughter three to ten times a day and text her constantly when she is 27 years old? Leave the girl alone, stop living vicariously through her and go pick up the tattered remains of your marriage/partnership (if you have one) or go out and get your own life. I'm telling you, Intimacy is much better with an adult partner then your child.  I’ve known a lot of “Debby’s” and I’ve worked with their daughters.  As a therapist. 

Because they needed one.

I love my daughters and we text and talk on the phone a lot more than I do with my husband. This amounts to once or twice a week - more with the 16 year old because I am often tracking her down for location and ETA home. But the reason for my husband getting less air time is that I wait to share my day, thoughts, ideas and worries with him in person.  I don't need to call or text him because I'll be able to sit and make eye contact with him in the evening. That's my preferred method of communication - in person. With my kids - who knows when I'll see them next?  That often goes for the sixteen year old as much as the 23 and 25 year old. 

So the study is flawed for me from the get-go. Its assumptions are too flimsy to hold much water. It really bothers me how the media - especially Huffington Post - picked it up and gave it a stamp of approval. And if there is anyone out there that thinks its just fine to have your daughter be your best friend while your marriage fades into some bland, tasteless friendship -

Give me a call, I can set you up with a good therapist.

Giving Teenage Girls Advice

Adults love to give teenagers advice. Because we know everything and have an omniscient understanding of the world that teenage girls are growing up in. Right?

Sure we do.

I read another blog - http://kateelizabethconner.com/ten-things-i-want-to-tell-teenage-girls/ - and couldn't resist coming up with my own version of her list:

1. If you wear clothes that show your cleavage, legs, arms and – god forbid – your midriff – stop. Boys will look at you.  Worse yet, forty year old women will mimic your style choices because they want men to look at them too and think dressing like a teenager is the way to do it.  

2. Don’t use tanning booths – how passé is that?  Spray tans are the way to go.  Just watch out for the dreaded ‘orange’ look. That is the kiss of social death. Start slowly and work your way up to Newport Beach chic.

3. Be careful of what you post on Facebook.  I know that honesty is the name of the game - no one cares about anonymity - but try to remember what kindness is. Think about what a future employer or college admissions officer might think about YOUR character for posting mean, cruel, stupid or slanderous material in a public arena.  These are usually adults who don’t give a f*** about you personally and will simply think you are an idiot.

4. Learn to make good friends – this is tricky because there are no secrets at your age.  Don’t go to summer camp and think that no one will find out about what you did behind the counselor’s office. Don’t tell your best friend something that you don’t want her telling the best friend she has next week. Social media will haunt you until the day you graduate…from grad school. Adults have a word for this – we call it ‘drama.’  You call it business as usual.

5. If you haven’t stopped browsing your Facebook page and answering text messages long enough to really think about what you would like to do beyond high school – what subjects, hobbies, books, and/or jobs get you excited – sit back for a moment and give it some thought.  High School is the last free ride you have in this life and if you can’t use it to figure out what is going to make the rest of your life rock – then you’ll waste either your money or your parent’s money on a college degree that will mean nothing to you in ten years. When I say ‘follow your heart’ I mean it – use what you love to do – the class you stay awake in, as an example – to start building a path to a future that is just around the corner. You have a choice: You can sleep through life and wake up disgruntled and empty at 40 something or you can start acting like the adult you are becoming and think about what it might actually look like to live into your dreams.

6. Never let anyone make you feel bad about how you feel.  You don't have to defend a feeling. You don't need facts to back up a feeling.  Keep it clean – it is your feeling, after all – no one else has to feel the same way you do.  If you want people to respect what you feel – you have to give that back to them.  It’s a two way street.

7. Smoking is an addiction.  You already know it is a health hazard.  There are worse health hazards – cocaine, heroin, meth, driving drunk, unprotected sex. Smoking may seem cool but it is a bitch to quit and no one likes kissing a smoker.

8. My generation’s and your generation’s ideas around “reputation” are different. It’s great to think that you don’t care about what people may think of your behavior but remember that it isn’t just your fellow teenagers that are worth considering when it comes to how you present yourself to the world. Think about employers, teachers, even your grandparents. These adults may have odd (to your way of thinking) notions of what is proper behavior for young ladies. It makes sense for you to understand what those notions are – not as guidelines for how you should behave but to simply understand what might make the difference in a job or scholarship interview.  You are very quickly going to be launched out into a world that will have all sorts of ideas of what being ‘good’ or ‘trustworthy’ means. Religions, ethnicity, families, economic standing all play into this. Be smart, accept that reality, and start figuring out what integrity means to you. It’s one of the few qualities that will matter over the course of your life.

9. Smart women intimidate dumb men (and women too). Don’t play down your strengths because if you do, you will end up surrounded by people too small for you. It’s not an easy world to be a sexually confident, smart, capable young woman. Our society (or Rush Limbuagh) often likes to label these women as bitches and sluts. So what? Be who you are meant to be and don’t let labels paint you into a corner.

10. I’d like to try to give you some advice on how to deal with the tidal wave of information that permeates our culture about what the ideal woman should be like. You already know about how the media air brushes models and the drug addictions of those beautiful starlets; you read about how women are still paid less than men in similar jobs; you see the results of acid being poured on women’s faces and what happens to the victims of the sex trafficking trade – and on top of that your generation is being left with a huge environmental disaster to clean up. The world we live in is fucked up. Still. Women pay the price in ways a man never will. If you can get a decent education, have access to health care, eat two or three meals a day, take a shower with actual hot water and shop at a mall for new clothes – you are one of the few lucky girls on this planet. 

So, taking all of that into account, here’s my advice: Short, fat, tall, skinny, black, white, brown, bronze, gay, straight, bi, queer – I don’t care -just use the brain that is in your head to be the best person you can be. “Ideals” are marketing techniques to create consumers of goods. Let that go.  Be kind, give back to your community, learn everything you can, work hard and don’t put up with anyone who makes you feel less than awesome. Learn to be vulnerable, open your heart and throw away all the “shoulds” you’ve been handed by anyone who does not reside in your own body.

One last thing – because I am the overzealous adult giving advice right now - use birth control and make the guy use a condom.  It’s your body and you have the right to choose when or if you get pregnant.

A Strange Phenomenon

This post is probably going to jinx the situation but I can’t resist sharing an odd teenage phenomenon that I’ve noticed over the years.

In my experience, kids hit 16-17 years of age and suddenly they don’t really mind hanging out with the parents. I’m not talking about hours and hours of time  - but compared to the hibernating-want to be anywhere but with you-experience of 13-15, even twenty minutes of unforced time together feels like such a treat.

Or maybe my kids are simply brilliant and like cats they’ve figured out that after years of not wanting me to hold them, gracing me with some time together feels so special.  Because what they’ve wanted the whole time is actually a really good ear scratch not being held hostage on my lap while I smother them with love and attention.

My youngest is now in possession of her driver’s license. The cage door has opened and her sense of self determination has just grown exponentially.  She didn’t see the tears in my eyes as I watched her head out of our driveway that first time or hear my prayer to every god and goddess possible to watch out over her as she begins navigating this new world of driving.  She got my smile and wave with a quick “be safe.” I let go – fly baby fly.

Something shifted this past year in our relationship. Talking to a friend the other night, I realized what it was – at least for me.  Teenagers, heck, kids period, always have an edge where danger lurks. When they are little, it is literally sharp edges and small objects.  With Teenagers - it is date rape drugs, pot, drinking, peer pressure, bullying, drugs – need I go on? For me-as-parent, seeing that edge in my child’s life is terrifying.  Add in a few personal memories of my own mistakes and I’ve practically gone crazy with worry.  It’s been especially challenging with this last precocious, smart and savvy child of mine. 

What shifted?  Well – the edge did.  Somehow, someway my perception of what will demolish her – that edge with razor sharp teeth – has moved a lot farther back into the landscape of my concern. Trust has had a lot to do with it and yet I will also say that it is also recognition that she is making her own choices now.  There are still some places in our relationship that I am responsible for her well-being but, for the most part, let’s face it: a 16 ½ young woman is working out her own way of taking care of her Self. Thinking back, this happened with my other two children as well.  That isn't to say that I never worry - but it has changed scope.

Does my youngest sense this? Did my other kids sense the shift? I was delighted that she wanted to sit and have dinner with me and a girlfriend last night. All sass and humor.  Is it also part developmental shift as she comes out the other side of puberty and starts getting curious about others who are close to her? She has even been asking me how I am. What’s up, Mom?

Puberty is a cocoon.  One of many that we get to experience in our life. Watch those new wings unfold - admire the colors and patterns that make up this new emerging adult. And then...

Soar, baby, soar high.

Empty Nest May Be Coming Sooner that I Thought

A week ago my youngest - that sixteen year old daughter of mine - broached a subject that has been unfolding within her own heart and mind. She's questioning what she wants to do when she grows up at the same time that she is looking around her and trying to figure out what she really wants.
She has a dream and she finally told me about it. Her fear was that I would immediately shoot it down and tell her that there was no way in hell THAT was going to happen. THAT being her participation in an study abroad program next year.

An academic year spent in Spain.

I don't think she realizes how evident that dream has been. Not that I knew she would come to see that experience as part of her dream; however, she has been chomping at the bit to live internationally since eighth grade.  I've known that she sees herself as a global citizen - not just an American.  I've watched her read Nicholas Kristof's Half the Sky and wonder out loud how she can help those suffering in third world countries. This is the kid that doesn't let people around her make racial jokes. She talks about traveling, yearns to see the world. And yes, as much as she talks about giving back, she also thinks shopping in Paris would be the highlight of her life.  She is sixteen.  I actually hope she keeps the balance.

The fact is, she has hated living in this big house all alone with her two parents. She is six years younger than her sister, nine years younger than her brother. The quiet freaks her out. She wants noise and people and things to do. She wants more challenges to help her figure out who she is and what direction she wants to move in. I hear her talk about that and know - deeply understand - that she is doing just that by asking to go live abroad for a year.

I can't be anything but excited for her.  It feels like when my other two kids went to college.  It was time - they could handle it and I had confidence in their ability to muck through.

I also suspect that after a year in Spain, even as she comes back to complete her senior year of high school, she will not be coming back the child who left. She will be in that in-between state that most parents experience with their kids during summers of college. Adult-ish. Much more her own person. We won't be putting her back in the box of child - hell, she'll be eighteen.

Which is why the empty nest is looking a lot closer than it did a month ago.

I'm conflicted in my feelings. I'm excited for her but I also feel excited for me. Has my longing to be done with high school and parenting (being painfully honest here) somehow pushed my daughter out of the house? Does she feel loved and supported or has some undercurrent of impatience prompted her to want out as soon as possible? Am I demeaning her courage by even thinking that?  Is it all of the above AND normal?  Is this all part of the dynamic of a child being ready to leave home?
Questions - I have more of those right now than answers.

At the moment, what is in my heart is this: I think she is really brave and I can only imagine what an amazing experience it will be for her.

Another room opens up at the Inn

Child number two has launched herself out of the nest. 

There's been a little bit of free fall with this one getting out the door.  That's what happens when you think you've made your plane reservation on the right day. Standing at the airport counter with all your worldly possessions (that you want for the next few months) packed into two bags at 4:30 am is hard enough - realizing that you purchased said ticket for a week hence is enough to make the parent standing next to you wince.
Okay, so we got that little issue resolved and off she goes to catch her plane to California and her first post college job.
This child is the first to admit that something happens to her when she is home. It has been two months since we tearfully watched her graduate from college. And yet, four years of self-sufficiency somehow didn't transition all the way over to returning home to the nest.  She is obviously competent enough - I mean, this kid did get herself a pretty cool job. However, some intangible quality reasserts itself when she is home. Concentration is a little harder than usual.  Her solitary rhythms are disrupted. I don't even want to describe what her room looked like last night on the eve of her leaving home.
It drives her crazy.
Which is why she wanted to find work far from the home hearth.  Her childhood home had to be at least a three hour drive away.  Portland was okay.  Olympia too close.
She needs her personal adult groove zone - a place where she has shown all of us over and over again how brilliant and capable she is at managing her life.  I hope that someday she'll be able to come back to where ever I live and enjoy that groove with me.
I don't try to challenge her blossoming adult self AND I completely acknowledge all the unconscious rules, roles and norms that play out in our relationship.  I have faith in the process, I like the person she is, I love her with all of my heart.
It's time, she's ready.  I'm ready and watching her fly fills me with mingled joy, pride and  - honestly - a sense of aging.  Not a bad feeling, really. Time does pass quickly. You blink and babies turn into fearless young women and men. 
Godspeed, dear one - may the wind fill your wings and be at your back.

Baby pictures

We were all young once.
The world was filled with wonder.
You can see the innocence and trust. 
Those baby cheeks and that uncluttered gaze. 

And then that baby had babies...here is my youngest learning about the world around her  - or putting rocks down the storm drain - it's all about perspective...

My middle daughter is graduating from college this year.  This was the day she learned to walk - she was ten months old. Never one to sit still...

And then there's my boy.  I can still hear his giggle.  He grew up to be an engineer.  I blame the legos.  Now he's in love and thinking about his own future.






Go catch a snowflake on your tongue, roll in the grass, or climb a tree.  Draw with crayons, dance and sing to whatever music fills you with joy.  Just be.  That baby child isn't gone.  I still look into the world with those same eyes - I just sometimes don't let myself really see what is right in front of me.

The world is filled with wonder.