Parentese. Parent ease? Parent tease?

 

I'm thrilled to have Tessa Meyer Santiago at Letters to a Parent this week.  She wrote about, among other things, a familiar feeling I've had as a mother, too. Kind of an identity crisis of sorts. It started when I had my first baby and, after a few days, couldn't shake the feeling that I was somehow waiting for her 'real' parents to pick her up pretty soon, just faking it until someone more qualified showed up.  And then, later another epiphany emerged when I realized that my kids see me as That Central Person the way I saw my mom.  Was I Grown-up enough to qualify for that? Ah, but Tessa says it so much better than I do:

I am simultaneously small Tessa, knobbly-kneed in green school uniform, and someone’s mother. The years run through me like it was yesterday, today and tomorrow at the same time...

I thought getting older meant I would suddenly be transformed into the competent, unruffled, self-assured adults who surrounded me as children–at least from my vantage point closer to the ground...

I am learning that, sometimes, it requires tremendous courage and nerve to simply show up, to be present in a particular day. 

Check out the whole essay here.  (It's a little longer than LTOP's usual posts but completely worth the extra minute or two.)

. . .

Do you have a post about parenthood you'd like to see on Letters to a Parent? Would you like to tell us about an experience or lesson in your mothering/fathering learning curve? Or even a photo, poem, image that distills what parenting is to you?  Send it, lovelies.  Do.  And, psst, pass it on.

Photo found via

Mirror Mirror

The newest post to Letters to a Parent is a great reminder that a parent can be one of the most important mirrors for their children, giving long-lasting answers to the unspoken, yearning questions like Am I beautiful?  Am I enough?  Thanks, Jenny, for your honest and thought-provoking post. 

Click on over and tell us what you think.

And psssst.  Join in on the conversation + submit a post of your own for the Letters project.  Or let me know if you think you know someone who you'd like to hear from and I'll do the inviting.  {I'm longing to turn my attention back to that neglected, patient project soon.  Soon!}

Elsewhere

...my Playing Big post has seen the light of day elsewhere as a guest post at Segullah.  Thanks, Michelle, for playing matchmaker :).  I've enjoyed reading the insights and conversation it generated, which has made me think about it in a new light.  And, turns out, the quote wasn't by Nelson Mandela after all!

...speaking of elsewhere, I just posted a new entry at Letters to a Parent.  I have loved reading Brene's wisdom on her blog and she graciously accepted the invitation to share her thoughts at Letters.  Keep 'em coming, please!

...my mind is also elsewhere today as I try to prepare for teaching next week.  I'm stuck on the preparations for the third session, which is on Death and Dying (certainly a part of lifespan development, after all).    I have the lecture part down but would love to include some movie clips or book passages to highlight the theories and encourage discussion.  Any suggestions?  I did find a couple of poignant, topical audio clips from StoryCorps: here and here. 

...my kids are also elsewhere as everyone is back in school today.  Doesn't it feel like a fresh start?  I haven't yet made official resolutions but I'm liking 2009 already, even though we're in our shy, get-to-know-you phase.

photo "elsewhere" via flickr

The chill, then stupor, then the letting go

After a long hiatus, I received a tender Letters to a Parent submission this week. The title comes from an Emily Dickinson poem and the letter is addressed to grieving parents (and is helpful reading for anyone who wonders what to say and do when a friend has lost a child). Read it here. 

I'd like to get that project going again and will start actively inviting and posting again soon. Have you read a blog post on parenting (funny-sweet-sad or in between) that you really loved?  Would you like to hear from someone you know about their lessons + beliefs about parenting?  Drop me an email and I will track them down and invite.  (Actually my mind is swimming with ideas and new projects to expand the site...it must be the end of the semester!)

Leaving letters

Today I was talking with a friend. She mentioned that when she was growing up she loved finding little notes to her from her stepmother, J--in her lunch box, in a box of cereal, inside her backpack. J worked full time as a professor and this was one way of connecting with her kids when she couldn't be there. For my friend, the lasting memory was that moment of glee, in finding something unexpected from someone who so completely loved her and told her so often.

Recently J received a cancer diagnosis, a blow to their family world. My friend has decided (in addition to giving support with rides and visits and food) to sneak into J's house and leave notes in her cereal box, makeup case, purse. To give her that moment of glee in finding something unexpected from someone who so completely loves her. Full circle, now.

It reminded me of an article I chanced upon in Esopus magazine about a dad who wrote daily letters to his two children. According to the Esopus 10 website, "exhibition designer Robert Guest has been getting up at dawn every school day for the past 15 years to write a note to each of his two children, Joanna and Theo. Included in Esopus 10 is a sampling of the thousands of letters written by Guest and collected by his wife, Gloria, from lunchboxes and laundry piles." Here's the text from one of them (above left):

"The world Joanna--you can't imagine how beautiful it really is. Think of the different places--tropical islands, snow-capped mountains, deserts of sand, miles and miles of green fields. It's awesome! Think of the kinds of weather--bitter cold - blinding sun - stormy wind and rain - cool breezes - warm winds. It's awesome! Think of the people in the world --black & brown, yellow and red, and white - old, young and babies of each. It's awesome! And just think. You get to be here in the middle of it all. So what do you do? You smile, you say "thanks" and you live! Love, Dad"

Every once in a while, I come across an idea that makes me wish I could go back and start parenting all over again. Looking through a couple of these letters, this is one of those ideas (click on the above photo to get a closer look). What I love about these is that they aren't just about his love for the children (which of course is important) but it's also about sharing his thoughts and perspectives about the world and life.

Luckily, it's not too late to write something, even if it's not the fantastic, letter-a-day idea. Maybe starting with notes or drawings on napkins. Or a yearly letter. Or a shared notebook to exchange thoughts we might not be able to say face-to-face. Or a post-it.

Here's what I believe: Writing it down has power and longevity, more than the earnest lectures on responsibility or the new shiny birthday bike. Those tucked messages to our kids eventually nestle in pockets and fists and musty shoeboxes carried from home to apartment and home again to be pulled out and remembered. Or at least that's what I do with mine.

p.s. This is cross-posted at Letters to a Parent today (but I wrote it last week when I didn't have writer's block).  I haven't pitched/fished for essay submissions to Letters to a Parent for a while so here goes:  Please consider sharing your encouragement or a lesson learned or a belief about parenting on this project, a collection of letters and essays by parents and for parents about the joys and challenges of raising kids.  I'd love to hear from you!

Feels like Monday

Louie: Keeping watch over the fields by day.
It's Hard Work, as George Dubya would say.

I have to keep reminding myself that it's actually Tuesday. Which is especially important since our elementary school gets out early on Tuesdays. Years ago I once forgot about an early release day and poor young Lauren came home to an empty house. Actually it didn't matter that it was empty because she couldn't even get inside--it was locked. When I finally made it home from my unimportant errands, she proudly told me "I didn't want anyone to see me {kidnappers?} so I hid in the backyard in the snow. But I really had to go potty so I went outside. Sorry, Mom." Yeah, that was a Bad Mommy, hand-wringing, apologizing day. We both cried + went out for McDonald's AND ice cream as proof of my sorryitude. Lesson learned.

Speaking of lessons learned, click on over to Letters to a Parent this week, where wonderful Jenny has articulated some of the lessons she's learned during her journey as a mother raising 5 children. You will be glad you did. {Sidenote: Jenny and I share a great-grandmother but didn't really know each other until we started e-mailing last summer. She's fabulous and funny and insightful. Just the kind of person you'd want to have as a friend or first cousin once-removed. Or mother--those lucky kids. Thanks, internet!}

Now I'm off to do my Mondayish to-do list. Good luck with yours.

The sun came out

Well, what do you know? Things really do look better in the morning. I'm tempted to delete yesterday's gripefest but--oh well--I'll leave it up for posterity. I'm back to the 'joy' thing again. Whew. No one wants to read Basic Gripeyness (or do they??).

So, a couple of housekeeping items:

Puppy names. We are still debating dog names {right now several of your submissions are definitely in the running} so you're welcome to continue to throw out ideas. I expect we'll finally have to decide when we bring the little guy home in the next week or two. The breeder's not anxious to have all the litter leave at one time so we have some flexibility. (This photo gives you a good idea what he will look like as grown pup.)

Letters site. I have forgotten to mention the last couple of weeks' worth of posts on the Letters to a Parent (LTAP?) site. Last week we had a great letter about embracing normal--the ups and downs of normal--and remembering to slow down, breathe, and get enough oxygen. This week I received a lovely heartfelt letter about the things we keep forgetting and re-remembering in the cycle of parenting. I continue to be buoyed and delighted by the letters that come in. Keep 'em coming!

Oh, the angsty angst. I've been reading some of my journals from my teen years. Let's just say it gives me so much compassion for my girls (and my Mom, in retrospect). I HAD FORGOTTEN THE ANGST! Oh, how could I forget the angst? About a betrayal and a boy:

"I feel like I can't live but know I will. My heart feels like it's shredded and all over my stomach and throat...how can I survive?...my mom seems to shrug it off lightly, she just doesn't understand that this is SO important to me and I am just crushed. Well, more later."

And then the next entry is a lighthearted and very detailed description of another boy I like. (I should say that my mom was actually a fantastic & listening mom. But this did give me a little reminder window into the emotional life of the teenage girl. And a nudge to be better at understanding it.)

Happy Monday! This made me laugh & reminds me of the story of Louisa May Alcott. The family had a pillow on the sofa that would indicate Louisa's mood so that family members knew whether to steer clear or not.

Fan letter

I read the book Broken for You {by Stephanie Kallos) a few years ago and was enchanted by the story and the characters. Intrigued, I looked up Kallos, found her website, and was equally enchanted by her bio, written as "Directions to Where I Am." In fact, I accepted her invitation and wrote one of my own.

Then I had a quandary. I wanted to post my bio but I wanted to give her credit for the idea. Years of both hearing and giving the Don't Plagiarize speech had made me a little nervous about ripping off someone else's idea. Covering my bases, when I posted the entry I (1) credited her with the idea and, just to be sure, I (2) e-mailed her the link, along with my admiration and thanks. That way, if the Plagiarism Keystone Cops showed up at the door I could say I had done everything I could to make sure it was okay.

She sent a generous and encouraging reply. We corresponded a bit. She is lovely and down-to-earth in addition to being a terrific novelist.

To top it all off, she enthusiastically agreed to write for the Letters project despite the fact that she has just barely wrapped up the finishing edits on her next book. (I can only imagine that, after finishing a novel, the last thing you want to do is write something right away. Kind of like running a marathon and then having someone challenge you to run back home, I'd guess.) Her letter features chocolate, music practicing, dealing with "it's not fair!", and her epiphany about helping her sons handle difficult moments. I won't hear (or respond to) "it's not fair" the same way again. Many thanks SK!

Keeping it real

When parents were divvied up and kids assigned to families, I think my friend Bridget's kids got a pretty good deal. It seems to me, from my (admittedly distant) view on the other side of the country, Bridget has a great approach. Her letter this week sums up her philosophy: keep it real. Tell stories. Laugh. Let your kids know that you were one, too, once. Check it out here.

Baby dreams

For the first time in a long time, I had a baby dream the other night. Weird. I used to have them all the time--especially when I was pregnant {& no, I'm not pregnant}--but it's been years since I dreamed one. Usually they were about my feared inability to care for or even remember the baby.

In one recurring dream, I would suddenly discover that I FORGOT TO FEED THE BABY, EVER, and, apparently, that was a really bad idea. Come to find out, though, babies don't really let you forget to feed them. Whew. (Or as Maddy says, fyoof.)

When I received this week's letter to a parent, I was fascinated to hear that not only was I not alone in the baby dreaming but that dads-to-be also have them. Click on over to read Sugata's wonderful letter about realizing what those fears were all about and how his daughters taught him they were unfounded.
{photo via flickr}