What I Learned About Parenting from Watching Football

1. Anyone on the team can recover a fumble.  Although I am the primary caretaker in our household, I have learned that anyone in the family can help to turn a situation around.  Whether it’s an older sibling helping a younger one with a school problem or my husband averting a meltdown by providing a change of scenery, I can call upon others in the family to assist when needed.

2. Know when to punt and know when to go for it.  Sometimes it is better to cut your losses and leave that birthday party, that grocery store trip, or that family obligation early.  But sometimes it is really important to be there, and so you take your chances with a tired or irritable kid…and those times it tends to work out okay.

3. Occasionally, the play needs a review.  We can all benefit from learning how to do better.

It's Complicated

“Why did you adopt”?

It’s a question I often get when people find out our son came to us that way.  It’s an understandable curiosity. 

From the outside, it sure doesn’t look like a fertility issue since he arrived after two biological kids, and before another.  (But that is part of the reason).  From the outside, it kind of looks like it’s because we wanted a boy since he’s the only one.  (But that’s really not the reason). 

How do you explain a calling?  How do you explain a feeling, a voice, a push so strong that you almost feel no choice at all?  How do you explain having been so touched by a situation, a knowledge, a chain of events that you are compelled to act out of your comfort zone?  How do you say all that without sounding crazy? 

So usually I just say, “It’s complicated.”

The Halloweens that Weren't

     Halloween has always been a favorite holiday in my family.  For the kids, obviously, it’s fun to dress up as favorite characters, wander the neighborhood, and collect huge amounts of candy.  It’s festive and special for them, and yet it doesn’t create tremendous stress for me as a parent.  Get them the costume they want, decorate a bit, carve a pumpkin, and the rest is pure enjoyment.  I love helping with classroom parties, taking children trick-or-treating, getting those cute photos, and maybe helping to get rid of some of the sweets.  I think, though, that Halloween is a bit extra special to me because of the ones I kind of missed out on.

     In 2003 when my older daughters were 10 and 6, my husband and I were across the world in Russia on an adoption trip for their little brother.  Already missing the girls like crazy, I was particularly sad to be absent for a holiday.  My best friend was watching the girls for me.  She made sure to bring them trick-or-treating and snapped lots of great pictures.  They definitely celebrated.  When I got home (without their little brother; this was trip one out of two), there were adorable decorations everywhere and I got to ooh and aah over their crafts, stories, and yummies.  It was nice for them, but I missed being there in person.

     In 2012, I was a mom of four but only one little one, and Super Storm Sandy hit our area hard.  We were lucky to have been spared any significant damage, but Halloween was, for all intents and purposes, canceled.  My three-year-old’s preschool was closed for several days, so she missed the first Halloween party that would have meant anything to her.  The mayor prohibited trick-or-treating on the actual day.  We didn’t have power, and there were downed lines and branches all around.  I admit I was rebellious and did take my little girl and her big brother carefully down the street to a few houses that looked okay.  We came home to our cold house after trying to make the best of it.

     With most things, we tend to treasure that which we have learned we cannot take for granted.  The two Halloweens that I missed are the ones that stand out most in my memory, and they motivate me to fully appreciate that special fall day when I can.  This year, I can’t wait to see my Claire all decked out as a cowgirl for the second year in a row.  It will be adorable to see her kindergarten class in costume and having fun.  In the evening, we’ll order in a pizza, roast some pumpkin seeds, and rifle through her loot together when we come back from trick-or-treating.  For a “scary” day, Halloween has lots of cozy, comforting fun that I plan to savor.

Montauk Magic

During the summer of 2012, my fifteen-year-old daughter Abigail begged me to take her on a trip to Montauk Point.  She had spent her whole life on the other side of Long Island, and neither she nor I had ever ventured to “The End”.  We had come somewhat close on Girl Scout camping trips, but we had never visited the farthest point out east where there was a picturesque lighthouse and museum, and it just seemed like something we should do.

We made a day and adventure of it, picking up some delicious breakfast along the way, getting caught in torrential rains, and then finally arriving at our destination as it cleared up.  We loved climbing up the lighthouse, checking out the museum, taking pictures, sitting on the beach, and wandering around a bit.  It immediately became a special place to us, and we vowed to return for the holiday lighting that always occurs the weekend after Thanksgiving.

That Thanksgiving had promised to be an important one.  My oldest, Elizabeth, was coming home from college for the weekend and bringing home her girlfriend (soon to be fiancée).  It would be the first holiday Tara spent with our family of six.

I had special plans packed into that weekend.  The older girls would spend the early part of the day with my three-year-old, Claire, as I prepared the Thanksgiving meal.  They would also spend time bonding or playing games with Abigail and my twelve year old son, Viktor.  We would enjoy Thanksgiving dinner along with my in-laws who were coming over to join us.  That night we would go to the movies.  The next day would be set aside for Montauk, me and all the girls.  On Saturday we would decorate the Christmas tree, sharing memories about all the ornaments while we listened to holiday music and sipped cocoa.

Most everything went pretty close to plan, but the trip to Montauk was not exactly how I had envisioned it.  It takes about two and a half hours to drive there.  Doing it later in the day to get there for the lighting and then driving all the way home afterwards made the actual visit seem particularly short.  Everybody seemed to need to stop for bathrooms and food so there was some added stress about getting there in time to actually see the lighting.  When we did arrive, it was beyond cold; it was frigid with a biting wind.  We got ourselves to a good location, saw the lighting and spotted Santa, and we ended up not staying too much longer.  I got a bit disoriented trying to find my way back to the car in the dark while Claire fussed about being cold, scared, and lost. 

The car trip home was interesting.  My little one had a cold with a runny nose, and she also has some sensory issues and some very rigid behaviors.  At that stage, I was the only one allowed to wipe her nose.  Every two seconds from the backseat came “You g’ wipe my nose?”.  I explained I was driving the car and so she needed one of the big girls to help her.  Not acceptable.  “You g’ wipe my nose?”.  Again and again, and again with me explaining about needing to keep my hands on the wheel and drive the car…in the pitch black with no street lights, of course.  Claire had the solution; I didn’t need to drive the car at all.   “You g’wipe my nose. We g’ walk fast home. Then I be happy”.  Over and over and OVER.  Lots of laughter from the backseat, and then finally, after about an hour of that, she allowed one of the older girls to wipe her nose.  From that point on, it was “Here, catch!” as she threw her used tissues up to the front seat or, more often, at the back of my head.  It was not a relaxing drive home for me.

When the weekend was over and I spoke to Elizabeth at college on the phone, I asked her if she and Tara enjoyed themselves when they were with us.  I was told they had an absolutely wonderful time.  I was particularly interested in what Tara thought, and so I asked what her favorite part of the holiday was.  The answer really surprised me.

It wasn’t the carefully prepared Thanksgiving meal made acceptable to both my turkey loving in-laws and my vegan and vegetarian daughters, it wasn’t the fun night at the movie theater watching “Breaking Dawn”, it wasn’t having fun with the little one at the playground, it wasn’t Christmas tree decorating…nope, it wasn’t any of that.  Tara’s favorite part of the holiday weekend was the visit to Montauk. 

“Really?” I asked.  “That long drive, the short time there, the freezing cold, Claire’s ridiculous behavior in the car?”

“It was magical”, Elizabeth replied.  The beauty was the car ride there with us joyfully belting out all our favorite Christmas songs, the crisp and clear night along the rocks with the huge moon shining down on the water, the perfect timing of arriving right when the lighthouse was lit up, and Claire’s antics were apparently the hilarious icing on the cake.

We seem to understand when we become moms that it’s now up to us to make holiday magic happen.  I learned from our Montauk adventure that the true magic occurs on its own in the hearts and minds of our kids (and those they bring home).  All we have to do is put in the time and be open to it.

Pet Mom

I am the mother of four human beings. I am also mom to two cats and am well aware that it’s not the same thing. But dare I say one can gain some wisdom about being a decent human mom from being a decent pet mom?

So much of our ego is wrapped up in parenting our children. We blame ourselves for their shortcomings and take credit for their successes. “If only I spent more one-on-one time with her earlier,” “She’s bad at math like I am,” and “I should have set more consistent rules when he was a toddler” are not helpful. “She is beautiful like my sister,” “she gets her intelligence from us,” and “We raised him right” are just the other side of the same coin. When they seem to do poorly, we feel unnecessarily guilty, and when they do well, we take undue credit.

When the cat misbehaves, it’s just being a cat. It’s either kind of funny or it’s just something we deal with in a relatively kind way that works. If we can teach the animal, we do. Sometimes we ignore it because it doesn’t matter very much. It really doesn’t have anything to do with us. Why can’t we think that simply with our kids? When a pet is a source of joy and comfort, the credit goes to the great animal and companion that it is, not to us for being connected to it. We are separate beings who happen to be in relationship with each other. Same with our kids.

Most moms succumb to the temptation to occasionally compare their kids, whether out loud or in their own minds. “This is my most athletic child, my prettiest, my smartest,” or “Why can’t she work as hard as her sister?” I have an overweight black cat named Judy and a smaller calico named Minnie. Never in a million years would anyone in the family say or think, “If only Judy were as skinny as Minnie” or a different color or with different eyes, or quirks, or anything other than who and what she is. We love and embrace them both for exactly who they are. Judy is loyal and kind to my youngest, and a good hunter.  Minnie is cute and silly. We can absolutely try to think of our kids along those lines.  They have individual looks, abilities, personalities, and proclivities. And they deserve to be fully accepted unconditionally.

There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t snuggle and pet my animals, speak to them in my high-pitched mommy voice, and simply enjoy their physical presence. And I confess that along with many other parents, I don’t hug my kids and say, “I love you” when they get past a certain age as freely as I used to. They still love it and need it, and so do I.

Lately I am finding myself seeking out information on rescue dogs that need a home. I want another being to nurture, completely separate from me but for me to love and guide, its “weaknesses” exactly what are appealing to me. I can’t wait to find out what I learn.

Mother Daughter

She is 85 years old, several hours away, and doesn’t like to travel.

I am busy with a family growing up, conflicting schedules and needs.

We speak on the phone every couple of days, drop each other notes and cards and packages.  I miss sharing a snack on the couch, watching her favorite TV programs with her, enjoying a meal at the table, feeling her put that extra blanket on me when she thinks I’m sound asleep, having talks in the wee hours when we are the only ones awake.

She is 21 years old, several hours away, and doesn’t like to travel.

I am busy with her siblings growing up, conflicting schedules and needs.

We communicate by phone or online practically every day.

I miss laughing with her in person, including her in our family activities, buying her special foods, taking a peek at her in the night when I think she’s sound asleep, waking up early with her, just me and my firstborn…like when she was a baby.

I must send out some kind of a signal to the universe when I need to really connect with these two.  I start to feel anxious; I fear I am beginning to lose them.  And then, they will both call me on the same day, and it is more than a check-in.  The stars align so that I magically have a free hour or so for each of them.  We have Real Conversation, we connect, I have been nurtured and I nurture.

It is rare that I can hold them physically.  Yet I still hold them…in my thoughts, in my prayers, in my love.

BFFs...is it really so wrong to be your child's friend?

One piece of common wisdom we often read and are told as mothers is that we are not to be our children’s friend; we are their parent.  Obviously the point of this advice is to make clear that our most important job is to provide consistent rules and clear guidance for our kids, despite what they might think they want from us.  If we try to make them or their peers like us, we may actually end up doing them a disservice.  As they come into young adulthood, our relationship will hopefully evolve into a more equal and amicable one, but while they are young, we are supposed to be firm and keep them on the right path.

It’s a message I have heard but not fully accepted.  My seventeen year old daughter often tells me that I’m her BFF, and while part of me loves to hear it, another part cringes a little and tells me that I must be screwing up the “parent instead of friend” thing.  When she was little, this daughter was such an old soul.  She had a knack for saying just the right, wise thing, whether she really understood what she was saying or not.  Sometimes I’d find myself asking what she thought about this or that situation to see if she might have some special insight for me.  When she was around 10 years old, it became clear that this middle daughter and I shared many interests—good stories, dollhouses, holiday traditions, academics and philosophical talks.  One night as I was tucking her in with a book, she said “If you and I were the same age, we’d be best friends”.  I couldn’t help but be flattered and agree.

As the teenage years approached, I figured I should begin to brace myself.  Although her older sister mostly remained an easy kid throughout high school, one any mom would be pleased with, this one was more feisty.  She was strong-willed, snarky, and questioning of those in power.  The friendship we had couldn’t possibly last through this phase of finding her identity and asserting her independence.

Or so I thought.  The kid remains an excellent student with tons of extracurricular activities and talents, as well as thoughts and opinions all her own, and I’m still her BFF.  And apparently that hasn’t messed her up too badly.  She’s a responsible, moral person with a strong sense of integrity.  We discuss practically everything under the sun, and sometimes we disagree.  There are times I ask for her input, and she reminds me she is still a kid who would rather not be burdened.  There are times I remind her I am the parent and don’t want to hear advice from her.

What is a friend, anyway?  I believe it is someone with whom we have a strong connection,  someone who brings out the best in us, someone who appreciates us and is there for us in times of need.  Friends share both good and bad experiences, laughs, and important milestones.  They challenge each other and have difficult conversations when needed, as well as encourage and build each other up.  They love each other.  And as far as I’m concerned, the loving relationship between a parent and child is not only more important than the role of parent as authority figure, it is the very foundation of it.  Respect is built on love and trust, not on fear.  I am proud to be both my daughter’s BFF and her mom.