June 20, 2011 ~ Day 192 Oranges and Apple Pie

As I settled into the couch with my laptop to (at last) begin writing today's blog post, my four year old son popped his little head around the corner.

"Mommy -"

"Honey, what are you doing awake? It's almost 10pm! Your daddy put you to bed a long time ago."

"I can't sleep."

He grinned a little mischievously, and held his cup out to me. "I'm thirsty."

"Hmmmmm.... buddy, you know how much I love you but this is the LAST cup of water you're going to have before bedtime. Okay?"

"Okay!" Happily he scampered over to the couch where I half-sat, half-lay and sat next to me.

"I missed you tonight, mommy."

"I'm sorry I was gone this evening honey. I was tutoring a big high school boy. Did you have a nice time with your dad?"

"Yes, we had a very great time. We ate a lot of cake!"

"Oh, I see..." I twinkled. "That's nice. How is everything else going for you right now? Are you liking your new school?"

"Yep. It's good."

"Are you making friends there yet?"

"Yes. Today I played with Lily*, the one from my very first school."

"Oh, that's nice. Does she remember you?"

"Yes."

"Well I'm so glad you had a good day. I missed you tonight while I was tutoring. It's really good to hear that you had a special evening with your dad, brother and sister."

"It was good mommy. But don't worry, I still love you."

"Well of course, honey. I wasn't worried about that. I still love you too! You know, you and me - we're like peas and carrots right? Or was it pancakes and syrup?"

"No-no-no," he shook his head.

"Oh?"

"No mommy. We're like ORANGES and APPLE PIE!"

"Oranges and apple pie? Really?"

"Yep! Oranges and apple pie. My favorite."

"I see. So which of us is oranges, and which of us is apple pie?"

"You are the orange, mommy. And I am the apple pie!"

He snuggled his little body into my side and gave me a big, big hug. I breathed in his scent of shampoo and hoped I would always remember those genuine, sweet moments of connection.

* * * * * * *

I really appreciated this small slice of heaven tonight, because lately I've sensed a shift in my relationship with my little guy.

The shift is natural, and it's called Growing Up.

A year ago when my son had only just turned three years old, he relied upon me for everything - not just his hierarchy of basic needs (food, water, shelter, clothing) but also the more intangible but equally vital needs - entertainment, conversation, information, playtime and Love.

He'd always been particularly attached to me, perhaps in part because of his elder brother's clear and frequently stated preference for my husband. From the beginning of our younger son's life and entrance into our family, the two brothers sort of "divided" us up - i.e. "You get Dad and I'll take Mom", and for a long while that is how it was.

My husband and I did not even tacitly agree to their agreement, but try as we might to keep things 'even-Steven', they stuck to their guns. Each of them had a parent preference. The little guy preferred mommy.

I suppose it makes sense - he'd never really been away from me or had the chance to experience the world on his own. I was his lifeline to the outside, the conduit to all of his one, two and three year old dreams. "You are my princess, Mommy!" he would say. "And I am your prince!"

Over the past year though, our son has been asked to make a number of significant life changes very quickly. He'd only just potty trained himself when it was time to start school. This was a big deal for him - leaving me for the entire morning every day. For the first several weeks he'd felt and expressed jealousy toward his little sister who got to stay at home.

Just as soon as he'd fully adjusted to preschool and made three "best" friends, our family moved to a new neighborhood (that we love!) where we assured him that his new school would be outstanding. Amazing. The Best Ever.

We made a lot of promises around that second school (Note to self - never do that again!) with the hope that they'd all come true. Unfortunately, as noted in many previous blogs, the new school turned out to be a terrible, expensive letdown and our son languished there for four months. Sure, he made a few friends and did a lot of art projects; but all in all, it was a huge bummer.

Just when he'd mainly adapted to his second school, we gave him the chance of trying out a third - totally different - school. He tentatively tried it, loved it, and now we are entering our third week of summer school at this new, third facility. Getting there involves a long drive on the freeway twice a day... an hour total spent in the car. It is a long time for a little boy to sit still.

All this to say, that my little 'tied-to-the-apron-strings" buddy has been forced by circumstance to mature quickly. Over the past year he's become so adaptable and confident - a totally different child than the clinging, Mommy-centric boy of the past. He's learned how to make friends - again, and Again, and AGAIN - to the point where he if we run into a buddy at the park... he can no longer remember where he knows them from - everyone is just 'a kid he knows from somewhere'.

Since he started attending school, a whole lot of new things have been added to his vocabulary. We hear a lot of "No!" now, coupled with a lot of potty jokes and hysterical giggling. He has started to disagree with my perspective pretty frequently, and to argue back loudly when his father or I ask him to help with a chore or do something he doesn't feel like doing.

He isn't a pleaser either. If I say, "Hey, could you please go get me a diaper for your sister," he'll flat out deny me.

"Nope, I'm too busy coloring and I don't feel like doing that right now," he'll say matter-of-factly.

We've also gone head-to-head lately about being responsible for messes... for example, when he leaves crud or messes on the bathroom floor and expects me to clean it up. "You're four years old now," I find myself saying, "and I am not your maid."

"What about Sonia*?" he asks.

"The housecleaner is not your maid either. Grab a cloth and clean this up, buddy!"

"FINE!" he shouts, grumbling all the way.

I love this kid to pieces and when I see his little face these days, I can't help but notice that it's losing its chubby baby cuddle and taking on the definition and cheekbones of an actual boy. A growing child. Someone testing his own limits - and ours.

Recently I overheard this son playing with his little sister.

"Let's play bum-bum Star Wars!" he smiled. "Bum bum, like where your poop comes out."

"Bum Bum!" his little sister laughed.

"We don't play with our bum-bums," I called out. "That isn't polite."

"NOOOO MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he retorted, annoyed. "We're not REALLY playing with our bum-bums or our poop. We're only PRETENDING. It's just what we WISH we were playing right now."

Soon however he accommodated me and changed the theme. "Sister, get out of that corner!" he giggled. "There are spiders over there! Darth Vader spiders! But I am the dragon, and I will save you, princess!"

Smiling, I took a deep breath and realized that I am no longer my son's princess-in-shining-armor, but rather some benevolent but strict Queen from whom the real princess, his little sister, must be rescued and taken on adventures.

Just as it was meant to be.

I'll always be his mommy though... the orange to his apple pie.









*Name changed to protect the privacy of the people in question

April 11, 2011 ~ Day 123 Letting Go

There are people who will slip in and out of your life without notice or explanation, and others who will stay by your side forever. Often it is difficult to know who will fall into which group; really, only time will tell.

I have a friend who has never missed calling me on a single birthday - some years she has been the only call other than my family (especially with the advent of Facebook where your wall can be chock full of birthday greetings and wishes but the telephone doesn't ring often). This has always meant a lot to me.

Another friend lives far away but checks in once every few months, just to see how I am doing and hear about our kids. She has never met my daughter but asks all about her anyway, in addition to the boys. She actively works to stay informed about our busy life with kids, and lets us know that she cares about what we are going through.

Then there are people who I thought would be in my life forever - an old boyfriend who swore lifelong allegiance but went on to break my heart, a former college roommate, several high school buddies and even a very close mutual friend of my husband and mine - who have all managed to jump entirely off radar. We've had friends who moved to other cities and slowly drifted away... and still others who have simply disappeared.

What I have learned from this over the years is that you have to appreciate your connection with a person in the moment, without expectations that it will last forever. You also can't take it too personally if someone, for their own reasons, doesn't really feel compelled to come your way any more.

"Easy come, easy go," may sound a little trite but I mean it in a deeper vein. Friendship or love comes easily into our lives but often we have a hard time letting it go. When I say "Easy go" I really mean let it all go, with ease.

I have never been one to let go with ease, holding on tightly to the people who mean the most to me. Loss is actually one of the things that I've struggled with most - this concept of relinquishing personal attachment or desire.

I looked into Buddhism at one point during our spiritual search and was really uncomfortable with the language of detachment - although with further inquiry I believe that the Buddhist concept of detachment is a bit different than the American version. Still, I couldn't quite commit myself to a faith that placed such importance upon how to accept the natural ebb and flow of relationships without clinging. "I love people too HARD to be a Buddhist," I confided to my husband.

My mother has a saying that I have always liked, and I believe in now more than ever. She says, "If something (or someone) is meant to be with you, it will be - despite all obstacles. If it is not meant to be with you, it won't be - no matter what you do to try and keep it."

I guess I like the fatalism of her view because over the years it has made me feel less of a failure when people or things have vanished. A long term live-in boyfriend left for a road trip with friends, didn't call me for five weeks! and then ended up married to a woman he connected with on that trip... a tough wall for me to climb at the time. In the end I was able to look back at the situation peacefully and realize that he simply was meant to be with her and not me.

I thought of my mom's saying a million times during my difficult third pregnancy - meditating on the feeling that if the baby was meant to be with us and to live, she would. If she wasn't meant for us, I couldn't hold on too tightly to the outcome. I just had to keep on praying and believing that whatever WAS meant to happen would evolve according to its own course and in its own time, in a way that would bless both she and I. Two years later she is a total ball of energy, health and radiance. Despite her amazingly traumatic birth she has thrived to become a strong, transformative presence in our lives. Undoubtedly, she was meant to BE.

Even when my father died, it was really tough to let go. I didn't want him to die, would have done anything to keep his heart beating for just a few more days so that I could introduce him to his granddaughter. So that I could hug him even one more time! Yet I was not able to restrain death, even with my most ardent prayers. I had to let Dad go, there really was no choice in the matter.

I've discovered the hard way that when you don't let go gracefully, the intensity of your own attachment comes back to bite you. This has happened to me literally hundreds of times, in so many different ways. I was once offered a team teaching position with a colleague that I really loved and respected, but it involved me needing to change all of my curriculum and switch grade levels. I was heavily pregnant at the time, exhausted, and extremely attached to the lesson plans and workshops I had developed around the 7th grade. I didn't WANT to let go of my curriculum. I felt like the request was unfair. (Looking back, it all seems so silly!) In any event, I rejected the offer and asked to stay in my own grade level with any available teaching colleague.

Ironically (or by design?) my new teaching partner could not have been a more challenging match. And not in a good way. I ended up taking over most of the team responsibilities for the year with a tremendous amount of added frustration and pressure, while sadly watching the colleague I had originally been offered to team with flourish in her excellence as a teacher, her hard work and her dedication. Her new team partner could not have been more pleased. I could not have been more jealous.

How many times during that long year did I kick myself for holding onto a grade level position that was obviously meant to fall away? How many times did I sigh over the short-sighted decision to place curriculum before partnership?

This is just one example to stand for all of the many, many times when life gently nudged or encouraged me to let go of something that needed to fall away... a particular apartment, a job, a friendship, a love affair... and I didn't listen to the call until it was loud enough to soundly box my ears.

In retrospect, I've realized how important is to acquiesce gently.

To be fair though - I am not exempt from pulling sudden disappearing acts or making others let go of me!

Sadly and much to my regret, there are a handful of friendships over 30 years that I can freely admit to pulling away from unexpectedly or without explanation.

I had a lot to learn about communication as a younger woman and I now look back with special regret upon unrelated conflicts with a best friend AND my own sister that each left me slinking toward the hills without uttering a word. Years passed before I grew up enough to realize how much damage my long-term silence had caused. My actions, which at the time I felt to be self-preservative, turned out to be supremely selfish.

I am very lucky that as of today both of those women have generously forgiven me for my general lameness and allowed me to re-enter their lives as a friend and sister. It isn't easy to make up for those lapses though, nor should it be.

I mean by sharing my own failings to say that *anyone* (including me) is capable of leaving anyone else... and that we have all managed to be both the "leaver" and the "left behind" at some point in our lives.

This blog post though, is about letting go. Learning how to accept what is sometimes unacceptable, preferably with grace and a good sense of humor.

Last night my husband and I were talking about a friend who has breezed in and out of my life for decades, never seeming to care much about whether I noticed the lengthy absences. "When do you think you'll hear from your friend again?" he asked.

"Oh who knows," I laughed. "Could be six days, could be six years! I've stopped worrying about that kind of thing. I just enjoy the visits when they happen and then completely let go until the next time we get together."

Smiling, he came over and gave me a big hug. "Well, I'm not going anywhere. I'll still be here tomorrow and the day after that, forever."

"That," I smiled, "is a beautiful thing. Thank you."

I cherish my husband's fidelity and love. I appreciate him so much. That said, I know that some day a time may come ~ thanks to accident or illness ~ when life asks me to let go of him too. The mere thought of this weighs like an anchor on my heart. Every time I think these thoughts, I know they're giving me an opportunity to remember my good fortune in meeting him at all. Can't live in fear of loss - simply need to celebrate and cherish the moments we do share right now.

For our children who will read this post one day - I sign off the way I began:

There are people who will slip in and out of your life without notice or explanation, and others who will stay by your side forever. Often it is difficult to know who will fall into which group; really, only time will tell.

Your challenge will be to love fully ~ and to let go with grace.