Lately people have been asking me if I'm doing alright. They are referring to my oldest child leaving home. She's been in college for a couple of years, but it was a junior college and she still lived with us. A few weeks ago she transferred to a major university to live in the dorms.
I started to have a moment when she and I went down to her room to pack her stuff. It felt overwhelming, and sad. I didn't even know where to start.
And then I started to notice what kind of things she was taking and leaving behind. I made sure she had her clothes and computer and school supplies. She made sure she took her 4 inch heels and the Bobba Fett bobble head her boyfriend gave her. Who needs an umbrella or gloves? We had to make room for the picture of her on her bike when she was 5. And the poster she stole from the storage room of the art department at her old school.
I couldn't help but chuckle inside.
And when it was all said and done, she left so much in her room that I knew she would be coming back!
We settled her into her dorm room and drove the 3 hours back home without Chatty Cathy in the backseat.
And for the first couple of days I thought about her SO many times... I was curious how her classes were going and if the meal plan was working and if she was happy. But I made myself give her space to spread her wings.
And then she texted me. And called. Every day I heard from her about the details of her new and exciting life. Instead of losing a part of me, I was gaining new experiences vicariously. I never lived in a dorm or had an all night "jam" session with my musician friends. But now I felt like I was there.
She was home last weekend to visit and I asked her, now that she had been there several weeks, what was one thing that was better than expected. The showers, she said. The water was always hot and there was always one open even though the whole floor shares the shower room. Then I asked her what she missed about home. I thought she might say cable tv and dvr, or her privacy, or homecooked meals. But her answer was "mostly you and dad".
So I am not afraid. Even though she is moving on, our connection remains strong.
We are the thing she can't take with her. But we have not been left behind.
Our Family
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Comfort - able
I'm doing a study on Attachment Theories and Love Styles. And yes, I totally embrace the nerdiness of that.
Anyway, part of the study was to think about a time you were comforted as a child...who comforted you and how they did it.
And like I always do, I applied this to my children as well.
I asked each of them to think of a time they had been comforted.
Both of them easily came up with times...that involved their Dad. Granted, he is large and comforting and makes people feel safe when he's got those big guns wrapped around you. But what was I?? Chopped liver? Oh they eventually got around to saying that I always seemed to understand their feelings and allowed them to be sad, mad, or whatever they were feeling. That's a good thing, right? I comforted myself by saying that maybe my "comforting" was just so EVER-PRESENT that they didn't realize what it was. You know, like taking the air for granted as you breathe. It's a theory.
But then, Parker got the stomach flu.
He spent lots of time in the bathroom between bouts of restless sleep.
I went to town for medicine.
And then I got this text from him.
"Will you come lay with me when you get back?"
And of course I did. I lay on top of his blankets and tried not to breathe his infected air. I followed him to the bathroom and patted his back and gave him a fresh cold washcloth to wipe his face. I prayed.
After a while, I started to rub his head. But I wasn't sure if this would help or make it worse. I don't like to be touched when I'm sick. So I asked him if that's what he wanted. He mumbled, "Yes. It helps."
And then he added, "These are the times I feel comforted by you."
I smiled in the dark.
And I was the one who was comforted.
Anyway, part of the study was to think about a time you were comforted as a child...who comforted you and how they did it.
And like I always do, I applied this to my children as well.
I asked each of them to think of a time they had been comforted.
Both of them easily came up with times...that involved their Dad. Granted, he is large and comforting and makes people feel safe when he's got those big guns wrapped around you. But what was I?? Chopped liver? Oh they eventually got around to saying that I always seemed to understand their feelings and allowed them to be sad, mad, or whatever they were feeling. That's a good thing, right? I comforted myself by saying that maybe my "comforting" was just so EVER-PRESENT that they didn't realize what it was. You know, like taking the air for granted as you breathe. It's a theory.
But then, Parker got the stomach flu.
He spent lots of time in the bathroom between bouts of restless sleep.
I went to town for medicine.
And then I got this text from him.
"Will you come lay with me when you get back?"
And of course I did. I lay on top of his blankets and tried not to breathe his infected air. I followed him to the bathroom and patted his back and gave him a fresh cold washcloth to wipe his face. I prayed.
After a while, I started to rub his head. But I wasn't sure if this would help or make it worse. I don't like to be touched when I'm sick. So I asked him if that's what he wanted. He mumbled, "Yes. It helps."
And then he added, "These are the times I feel comforted by you."
I smiled in the dark.
And I was the one who was comforted.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
A Dance, A Thread, and a Robin(son)
Every year, at Homecoming, the dance team girls get some guys to perform a swing dance with them at halftime.
And that's how I came to be sitting on the bleachers, watching my son do the jitterbug...
I was impressed! They only practiced a few times, and he is normally pretty quiet and reserved. But there he was gliding across the floor with a smile on his face, effortlessly spinning and lifting his partner. Parker and Alexa aka Fred and Ginger.
Of course, video was sent to all the grandparents!
Later, when I was talking to my dad about it, he said, "When I saw that video, I told your mom it was like watching Grandpa Robinson." I was intrigued. My dad has told Old Family Stories my whole life, but I'd never heard this one.
He went on... "When I was a boy, Grandpa used to come stay with us for a week or so at a time. Me and my brothers would play old bluegrass music on our guitars and fiddles and Grandpa would get up and dance. Boy, he could cut a rug!"
I smiled as I felt a warm thread of connection to this past person I never got to meet. He was gone long before I was born and the only thing I knew of him was an intricate drawing given to me by my own Grandma (his daughter). It was a doodle of the letters of his name intertwined with a bird...a robin.
And now my son dances and my daughter draws.
And the thread pulls gently, comfortingly, linking us all together.
Past dreams dance into the future on my children's feet.
And that's how I came to be sitting on the bleachers, watching my son do the jitterbug...
I was impressed! They only practiced a few times, and he is normally pretty quiet and reserved. But there he was gliding across the floor with a smile on his face, effortlessly spinning and lifting his partner. Parker and Alexa aka Fred and Ginger.
Of course, video was sent to all the grandparents!
Later, when I was talking to my dad about it, he said, "When I saw that video, I told your mom it was like watching Grandpa Robinson." I was intrigued. My dad has told Old Family Stories my whole life, but I'd never heard this one.
He went on... "When I was a boy, Grandpa used to come stay with us for a week or so at a time. Me and my brothers would play old bluegrass music on our guitars and fiddles and Grandpa would get up and dance. Boy, he could cut a rug!"
I smiled as I felt a warm thread of connection to this past person I never got to meet. He was gone long before I was born and the only thing I knew of him was an intricate drawing given to me by my own Grandma (his daughter). It was a doodle of the letters of his name intertwined with a bird...a robin.
And now my son dances and my daughter draws.
And the thread pulls gently, comfortingly, linking us all together.
Past dreams dance into the future on my children's feet.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Directions to Neverland
Our Swiss Miss visited again this summer. Just like she has every year since her year as an exchange student at our high school. Since she doesn't have an American drivers license, she asked me to take her into the city to the mall. Then, unexpectedly, Hillary was off work and able to go with. I thought my part might be over since Hillary DOES drive and even has her own car (and paycheck)... But no- not only did they still want me to go, they wanted me to drive.
And it was like I'd travelled back in time to my daughter's junior high days. They laughed and talked over each other and painted their nails in the car and listened to their music loud. They tried on things they would never buy and bought things like boots and bejeweled cell phone covers. They ate Auntie Annes pretzels and talked about people and what they were wearing. And on the way home, they slept.
It was a fun day.
Swiss miss flew away yesterday and My Own Girl moves out in December. But even though these young women are brilliant and beautiful and can vote and buy their own gas and will probably change the world, its nice to know their little girl selves are still safely hidden inside. And that they can be called out anytime by having Mom drive them to the mall.
"Second (mall) to the right and straight on till morning"
And it was like I'd travelled back in time to my daughter's junior high days. They laughed and talked over each other and painted their nails in the car and listened to their music loud. They tried on things they would never buy and bought things like boots and bejeweled cell phone covers. They ate Auntie Annes pretzels and talked about people and what they were wearing. And on the way home, they slept.
It was a fun day.
Swiss miss flew away yesterday and My Own Girl moves out in December. But even though these young women are brilliant and beautiful and can vote and buy their own gas and will probably change the world, its nice to know their little girl selves are still safely hidden inside. And that they can be called out anytime by having Mom drive them to the mall.
"Second (mall) to the right and straight on till morning"
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Mirror mirror
It started innocently enough.
In an effort to cheer me up, Hubby picked up a pen and wrote a note on my bathroom mirror.
"You are so sexy to me."
I found it as I was getting ready for summer school, and it made me smile.
Since it worked so well, he kept adding things every few days, until eventually my mirror was covered with words. As I brushed my teeth every day my eyes searched the phrases until I found what was new. "thanks for being so caring." "I love to see you smile." "I like that you have shown me new hobbies." It became a game between us. And I couldn't bear to wash the mirror.
And so, as various company came and went this summer, people noticed.
And they decided to play along.
My dad added a note to Hubbys side of the mirror..."thanks for loving my daughter. Keep it up and I wont have to beat you up!"
We laughed.
And then cancer rudely butted its way into our family. And there hasnt seemed to be much to laugh about lately.
Until I went in the bathroom just now and saw another addition to my mirror. My brother in law had written "I love you for having a sister as sweet as Cassie (his wife)."
It struck me funny! And I laughed.
I laughed because he signed it with his initials. I laughed because it was unexpected. I laughed because these silly things are what make up Real Life.
I love that I am part of a family that allows everyone to help write our story. I literally look at myself through their words every day. And whether we are together or apart, healthy or sick, happy or sad, we are connected by love. That is what keeps the story alive as we hand it down to our children and their children.
And thats enough "reflection" for now :)
In an effort to cheer me up, Hubby picked up a pen and wrote a note on my bathroom mirror.
"You are so sexy to me."
I found it as I was getting ready for summer school, and it made me smile.
Since it worked so well, he kept adding things every few days, until eventually my mirror was covered with words. As I brushed my teeth every day my eyes searched the phrases until I found what was new. "thanks for being so caring." "I love to see you smile." "I like that you have shown me new hobbies." It became a game between us. And I couldn't bear to wash the mirror.
And so, as various company came and went this summer, people noticed.
And they decided to play along.
My dad added a note to Hubbys side of the mirror..."thanks for loving my daughter. Keep it up and I wont have to beat you up!"
We laughed.
And then cancer rudely butted its way into our family. And there hasnt seemed to be much to laugh about lately.
Until I went in the bathroom just now and saw another addition to my mirror. My brother in law had written "I love you for having a sister as sweet as Cassie (his wife)."
It struck me funny! And I laughed.
I laughed because he signed it with his initials. I laughed because it was unexpected. I laughed because these silly things are what make up Real Life.
I love that I am part of a family that allows everyone to help write our story. I literally look at myself through their words every day. And whether we are together or apart, healthy or sick, happy or sad, we are connected by love. That is what keeps the story alive as we hand it down to our children and their children.
And thats enough "reflection" for now :)
Monday, June 18, 2012
Father's Day(s)
Hubby and I went to a friend's birthday party this weekend. There were lots of little kids running around and we enjoyed sitting in the shade, watching their young parents run after them, wiping noses and pulling fingers out of the dog's mouth in the nick of time. We could laugh because we'd been there and done that. It was no longer OUR little boy responding to pleas of "be careful" with "I know what I'm doing!"--right before face-planting on the patio floor. And it wasn't OUR little girl carefully and daintily scraping birthday cake off the sidewalk with her fork--and EATING it. We ate our burgers in peace and didn't have to negotiate "hotdog before cake" rules with anyone. Of course, we have a whole different set of things to worry about at our kids ages. But for the moment I just enjoyed the show. I was struck at how involved the dads were- chasing boys around the yard and holding babies in the pool. It gave me hope for a new generation of hands-on daddies. And made me remember how much Hubby helped when our babies were little. He changed diapers and mixed formula and never complained about it. And as the kids have grown, so has he, going to track meets and filling out the FAFSA (a college financial aid form) and still (mostly) not complaining about it. So while we celebrate him on this Father's Day weekend, I try to make sure it isn't a once-a-year pat on the back. I tell him often that I'm thankful he made the choice to be the father, and the man, that he is. I work with plenty of children whose parent has made a very different choice. And the results are painful to watch.
Parenting is not easy. There are as many ways to mess it up as there are children in the world. But its not as hard as it might be if I had to go it alone.
So Happy Father's Day, Coach! I'm glad you're on our team...on Father's Day and all the Days in between.
Parenting is not easy. There are as many ways to mess it up as there are children in the world. But its not as hard as it might be if I had to go it alone.
So Happy Father's Day, Coach! I'm glad you're on our team...on Father's Day and all the Days in between.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Good
A few days ago my house was full of people. Cars lined the driveway and extra matresses were pulled out into the middle of the floor and the Pack n Play was wedged into a corner of the bedroom. And it was good.
Today I am sitting all alone, sipping coffee and recovering from a day spent teaching summer school. The house is quiet except for the fluttering of the blue jays right outside my window, pecking at the bread Hubby threw out. And it is good. I'm so thankful that God gave me both. A large rowdy family and the ability to enjoy being alone now and then, with moments of one on one time with special people sprinkled in. So tonight I'll cook dinner for three. And then make plans for vacation with twelve (not counting the dog). To quote Pete the Cat "It's ALL good!"
Today I am sitting all alone, sipping coffee and recovering from a day spent teaching summer school. The house is quiet except for the fluttering of the blue jays right outside my window, pecking at the bread Hubby threw out. And it is good. I'm so thankful that God gave me both. A large rowdy family and the ability to enjoy being alone now and then, with moments of one on one time with special people sprinkled in. So tonight I'll cook dinner for three. And then make plans for vacation with twelve (not counting the dog). To quote Pete the Cat "It's ALL good!"
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