Random Happiness

I love being around little kids. The four to six year old set are the best. If only I could shrink down to their size and run around like a nut like they do, that would be heaven.

I held our annual Valentine' s parents night out and kid's sleep-over at our school. The school becomes an indoor playground and we set it up so there's cool stuff to do in every corner.  One of my five year old students, Maya, came running up to me and said, "This is the best time I've ever had in my whole life! In My Whole Life!"  I take being the highlight of any child's day as a real compliment, but of their whole existence. Now we're talking.

Speaking about highlight of the day, Smokey the dog was not left behind. Since he is our guest for three months, we didn't feel right leaving him home alone for so long. Besides he seems to me to be a dog that would like a good party. So Smokey went to the sleep-over too. With six Lil' Dragons constantly on his tail lavishing love and attention, he had a great time. He slept all day the next day. That's what happens when you party too much.

Speaking of partying, I plan to be celebrating this weekend for so many random reasons, yet still connected.

First:  Road Trip. Yeah!
QueenMaker and I will be hitting the road and I love it. A short road trip, only four hours, but enough time to have great conversations, break out some jams and a gigantic bag of trail mix.

Second: Going to Chicago.  Sweet!
Beginning to like this city more and more, except for the surprising thirty-one dollar parking fee. We've been to the Historic Museum, to the Aquarium, had Chicago style pizza, and checked out the University of Chicago. My son moved there almost six months ago, long enough to explore what the city has to offer. We're going to Chinatown, a jazz club, and checking out a Frank Lloyd Wright home in the area. We're looking forward to his tour.

Third:  My Son, Beloved.  (blinking back the tears)
My one and only and I miss him dearly. This is our reason for going, to see our son. Our friendship with him continues to grow. Since our parent/child relationship is partially behind us, we hope that he continues to turn to us not only as his parents but as his dear friends as well.

Fourth:  Permanent Full Time Employment. Yeah!
Beloved has been discovered!  He has part-time employment at a bookstore and was hired as a coffee barista, but he works in all the departments when needed.  His store is closing so he's been worried about finding a new job. A woman customer noticed that he was everywhere it seemed at once. She complimented on his excellent customer service and his willingness to help out his fellow co-workers.  And then she offered him a job. Full-time employment with benefits and a raise in pay.  Woo-hoo!

Fifth: My Wedding Anniversary! Kisses.
This is why I picked this weekend to go see our son. To celebrate our love, to celebrate what our union gave us, Beloved, and to celebrate the many years of happiness we have shared.



Speaking about happiness we have all shared, head over to Keely's UnMom and read the tales of the more random happiness happening over there.

Leaving His Heartbroken Parents Behind

He's in bed right now. In his own bed, in his old bedroom. His lease was up on his apartment so he moved home for his last two weeks in Michigan. QueenMaker and I get a few more days with our boy before he moves to Chi-town.

This means we will see him less. Visits will be farther apart. Luckily Chicago is not that far away, just a four hour drive. QueenMaker and I are already planning our trips.

He is about to embark in a new adventure. He loves adventure. He loves new experiences.  So the move will be a welcomed change from life in Ann Arbor.  He will explore his new city with gusto and call us with his discoveries.

We get to discover it too. Looking forward to Chicago deep dish pizza, the museums, the aquarium, and whatever else Chicago has to offer.

His dad has voiced it more than I have of late. I think he'll miss his son more than any of us know. So when Beloved packs his belongings into his car and drives away, our hearts will be breaking a little.

Lots of Love There - Mother's Day Number 22

A sublime day.  The day came together in a lovely, almost poetic way.

Maybe it was the fact that I was able to pull off four days straight of uninterrupted sleep.  If this streak keeps up, mental agility and fortitude may return full force.  Always enjoy mental, chemical, joint, and muscular harmony.

Mother's Day.

The sun shined all day.  A mood enhancer for sure.

Took my mother to church. Every pew filled to bursting. Because my hearing is highly attuned today,  my mind is concentrating on the sounds of church. I close my eyes and listen.  There are so many layers of sounds and I listen to the undercurrent.  The sounds of children, the pre-schoolers, the toddlers, and babies hum throughout the mass.  And many times rise above the mass.

I open my eyes and search for them.  I don't have far to look because the pews are filled with them.  Some churches sequester their children to other parts of the church lest they disturb.  But in this church every child is held high by their parents.  Lots of love there. The children's small heads rest on their parent's shoulder. I try to discern boy toddler to girl toddler ratio, but give that up right away.  I'm glad that they are there.  Without them the place is stoic.

After church, Beloved and QueenMaker come by to visit with my mom.  Lots of love as grandmother hugs a grandson she's missed so much.   It makes me so happy to witness the massive amounts of love my child receives and better yet how much he gives in return.  

Beloved is here and now my Mother's Day begins anew.  He will be with us the rest of the day, no matter how long the day.  My heart is filling up.

The three of us together again.  Dad, Mom, Son.  A quiet peaceful comfort descends upon us.  On the ride to my mother in law's house, we reconnect as a family.  The two-wheeler becomes the tricycle again.  

QueenMaker is making dinner for his mom and I am helping him in the kitchen.  Beloved is visiting with his grandparents in the next room.  Lots of love there.

Breaded pork country ribs, salad, baked potatoes, a sauteed vegetable medley that included onions, asparagus, red and yellow peppers, zucchini, carrots, and lacinato kale.  Dessert was homemade pecan pie.  It was awesome.  Lots of love there.  Okay mostly in one direction as we devour it all.

We end the evening by watching Jeremy Brett in Sherlock Holmes.  I ABSOLUTELY LOVE this series.

On the ride home we talk about martial arts, chinese philosophy, and the western mindset.  The college student actually had an interesting conversation with his parents.  

The best gift my son gave me today and every time we get to spend time together as a family, is when he says, "Today was a good day." or   "I always feel so relaxed when I'm with you guys." or  "I miss our time together so much sometimes."  

A Mother's Day that fills the soul.

Guilty Resolutions

Another year has flit by, whoosh!  There is goes, bye, bye. The Spin Cycle's topic today is New Year's Resolutions.  Be resolute to go to Sprite's Keeper and become a Spinner.

When it comes to making resolutions I've learned to keep my mouth shut.  No one remembers what your resolutions were, thank goodness, except me.  At first resolutions were positive changes I was going to make in my life.  Then I realized they were more like wishes. I was hoping to make change happen.  After years and years, I've come to realize that in my case, it's more like lying. I don't like to lie, it makes my head hurt. So I have stopped lying to myself.

But at the party last night we all took turns telling our New Year's Resolutions.  All the women said the same thing they say,  Every. Single. Year. that they were going to lose at least 30 pounds. For some, the changes coming in 2010 were inevitable, like finding a job, saving for the graduation party coming in the summer, saving more cash, and on and on.

Sister After Me vowed that 2010 was the year she was finally putting herself first.  Her health, her happiness, her needs. I don't know, but these sound like code words.  I'm going to keep an eye on her.

My mom vowed to have each of her children come to take her some place every single day and to take her on glorious trips, and to include her on every family function, to invite herself whenever possible with the words, "Can I come?" or "Take me with you." or "You're going to invite me, aren't you? or "Where's my ticket?"  If it wasn't winter, you would've heard the crickets in the background but because it is winter and there are no crickets, the Silence Was Deafening.  NEXT!

When it was my turn, I couldn't say anything except, yeah what you all said. But something came to mind this morning that I think I will try.  It came to me after my 22 year old son, Beloved, told me how good it felt to be home this year.  He's spending the whole week with us which was the best present he could have bestowed upon his parents.

He told me how happy he was to see a Christmas tree this year.  He cared? I didn't think he cared about stuff like that.  We didn't have one last year and I bemoaned how much work I thought it was going to be, how I wasn't inspired, that I seriously considered not getting one this year either. Both he and my husband shrugged their shoulders and said they didn't care and even agreed with my assessment. But Youngest Sister brought me tree and thus brought the Christmas spirit and saved the day. She is a wise and giving woman.

He later told me how happy he was to see the tree.  He didn't even realize that it made such a difference. We weren't home the day Beloved arrived, but when he came into the house and saw the Christmas tree, all stress left him.  He was home and it looked homey, warm, and inviting. The Christmas tree gave him solace that everything was right in his world and that he was HOME.

I realized then that a tree will always be waiting for him and us in the future.  It is motivation enough.

I was being selfish, thinking that Christmas was a burden or more work than I wanted to do. I couldn't find the magic in it, because things weren't the way they used to be.  Beloved was a man, not a baby. Presents weren't a surprised, just things checked off a list he gave me.  I didn't want to make the effort.

But Beloved made me realize that the symbols of Christmas were really symbols of hearth and home, of the peace and love that we have shared over the years. He needed that, and I need that too.

Get ready, I'm about to make a New Year's Resolution. Here it is.

I am going to figure out which voice in my head is the most positive and follow it.

I'm going to use the negative sign posts of guilt and burden and figure out what they really mean and instead of hiding from them to power right through them.  Because these emotions are trying to tell you something.  They are warning signs that your heart, head, and soul are in conflict, that you are not being true to yourself.  And when you are not true to yourself, you hurt, you become depressed, you become angry, you make excuses.

I will find my true voice and follow it.

No Room to Think

The Spin Cycle this week is parental confessions.  Check out more Spins on Jen's Sprite's Keeper.

Confessions of a mom when her child was three years old.

Aaargh. I'm going mad.  There were times when the only voice I could hear in my head was that of an adorable somewhat high pitched voice belonging to an equally adorable little boy. He learned not only to ask questions and form sentences, he's learned he could ask them non-stop.  Question after question would fly my way, which I dutifully answered as best I could and I have to admit, I was pretty good at it.  

Then he would check my answers by repeating what I had said over and over.  We moved from two word phrases like "Look mommy." or "What's that?" to requests for full explanations about the world around him and then ask why, until each explanation needed another until he was fully satisfied. Then he would take the information and talk and talk about what he had just heard, peppering me with, "Isn't that right mommy?"

After a while I realized that my willingness to answer all his questions was a way for him to keep me near him, which was really sweet of him.  It was a way to get my full attention, every second of the day, the unconsciously sweet little manipulator. If I started to move from the room or look in another direction, he would recognize the body language to flee and ask another question.  He sometimes grabbed my chin to make me look at him.

At one point I told him, that he needed to give mommy a break because the only voice I heard in my head was his, that I couldn't hear my own thinking voice anymore, that my head was full of his questions and that there was hardly any room for my own questions.

After a while, he looked at me with concern and asked, "Is there room up there now mommy?"  Yes baby, there's room.

Missing Oneness

My guys are coming home.  QueenMaker and Beloved have been gone a week now.  They boarded a plane westward on a business trip. They also took a few days to see Redwood trees and visited Crater Lake.  They were looking forward to their trip as father and son.  They haven't spent much time alone before and as Beloved said, "This will be the first time we are going together as grown men.  I think I can be considered a grown man, don't you think Mom?" "Yes, baby. You're a grown man."

I get to experience the day on a totally different timetable.  I still take care of our business, but my days are less structured. When there is no one waiting at home I'll wander. I'll hang around.  I'll stay put longer. I'll stop at a bookstore. My day is mine to do what I wish.  I eat when I want and visit family and friends without looking to see if it's time to go home.

Of course, knowing this, my family has made all kinds of plans for me.  I don't mind.  It's always a good time to refresh family bonds.  But I allow myself to selfishly decline if I want. I never feel guilty when I say no because I need my alone time.

It's been a while since I have been completely alone.  I'm not a person that gets lonely.  I like solitude and seldom need the companionship of other humans.  But the feeling this week can only be described as empty.  My bed seems particularly cold this past week.   It's hard to sleep when the furnace of your life is away.

I'm ready to leave aloneness. I'm glad I can set aside this state of being until another time. It's an option that some people just don't have.  I miss my companions and the togetherness of our little trio.

Please bring them back safe to me.

            

Crater Lake

How Yah Gonna Keep "Em Down on the Farm...?

My college student, Beloved, just returned to the nest. He's distraught over the situation. Secretly, I'm cheering. I called Middle Sister a few weeks back and gave her the news, "Beloved is moving back home, temporarily." Her happiness for me was emphasized beautifully by saying, "Yaaaahooooo, Alleluia! I'm so happy for you. This is sooo exciting." I really appreciated the glee, the yelp for joy, the acknowledgment of the truth. I thanked her for saying aloud what I was feeling. "I'm keeping my emotions on the down low," I told her.

Ex-college student thinks moving back home is a step backward. Mr. Maturity, I've Got It All Together, had no choice but to move back home. For his sake I'm feeling sorry for his plight. He wants desperately to be independent, not to be a financial burden, and to stand on his own feet. Plus QueenMaker pointed out that coming home squelches particular social gatherings, ahem, to which Beloved had become accustomed. O00000h, I'm so dumb sometimes.

I've dismantled the sewing, craft, and projects room formally known as Beloved's Room to make room for his things, thus becoming Beloved's Room once again, temporarily. My house is a wreck with boxes piled high. I'm still trying to find room for it all.

Then there's QueenMaker. I didn't ask how he felt about our newly evolving "alpha male" offspring returning to his domain. But the look in his eyes tells me that he is as happy about the outcome as I am. At least temporarily.

I don't ask Beloved when will he come home, or whether he will come home, or if he will be home for dinner. I don't want to fall into that trap of parenting when it is no longer required or desired. We recognize that his autonomy is paramount. It maintains a balance in his life and in ours.

He still works in Ann Arbor, so he stays there with friends four days of the week. So QueenMaker and I still have the alone time that we have learned to relish. We are just as grateful that our kid is with us a few days and a few hours more each week for a little while longer, temporarily.

Small Pleasures

Reading Chris's entry about her son's letter and love of writing, reminded me of my son's passion for writing stories and drawing. I wrote the following about seven years ago. My god, has it been that long ago. It seems like yesterday.

Small Pleasures

I have learned to take pleasure in the small things, to really see them. As I hurriedly moved from room to room putting away the daily clutter, I stopped all of the sudden and didn't move.

I came up and you were on the computer writing your story as you sometimes do. Something caused me to pause and notice a few things about the scene before me.

Perhaps it was the lighting, the way the ambient glow of light from the computer landed on your face.  I noticed how beautiful you looked.

Or was it the driven pounding on the keyboard keys, that decisive, percussive hit when you are on a roll. The fast and furious pace stopped me too.

Or was it the intensity in your eyes, the need to get all you had to say out before you lost it, looking satisfied with the results. 

Or was it that you looked so grown up, just turning 14 just two days earlier and sporting a slight mustache.  How mature you looked.

Or was it the pleasurable thought that I was looking at a budding artist, a writer at work.

Or was it all those things that made me stop in my tracks.

I decided to pause and sit in my chair trying to be inconspicuous. I sat in the dark, positioning my head as to not alert you to my viewing.  I pretended I was tired and glanced at you, but not to spy, but to take in an image I wanted to remember.

All these things made me pause.  I wanted to emblazon that image in my mind forever.

My son is at home, writing, and is content.

The Shine In Your Eyes

Another thing I miss more than anything at times is the look I used to get from Beloved when he was a little boy.   Do you know it?   It’s the look that reflects pure happiness and unconditional love on my child’s face when I enter a room.  It’s a look that thrills me as soon as I see it.   It was immediate and electric, “Yes, Mom is home! Joy, Joy, Joy.  Please pick me up and love me.”

I’ve come to learn that the look will begin to fade, just slightly.   As your children grow older, it may not be as instantaneous or as powerful as it once was.   Some parents tend to greet their children with a barrage of questions and instructions.  “How was school?  How much homework do you have?  Wash your hands.  Where’s your lunchbox?”  And if a parent becomes too critical or demanding, the shine can be extinguished altogether.  Maybe you won’t see it again until years later, maybe a whole generation later, when a child lovingly calls you grandpa or grandma.

Time can rob you of the shine.  Lovers know the shine.  But as time goes on the shine fades. Couples in love that once showed the thrill in their eyes when their love walked into a room, have now become complacent, apathetic, or indifferent due to the stresses of life. 

Queen Maker coming home one evening said, “There it is, that look.  The look I love.  I’ve really missed that look.”  I realized that over the years, the look had turned into, “Oh hi, you’re home.”  No big deal.  Or during my cranky years (not sure I'm out of the woods yet) when I'm sure my look was anything but welcoming. 

In our school, we developed long term relationships with our students, some lasting between seven to thirteen years.  After class, a parent asked why our students stayed for so long.  Trying to come up with an explanation, I realized that we treated our students as though they were dear long lost friends each time they walked in the door.  Our eyes truly shine with delight and hugs of greeting are a norm around here.

We both concluded that adults rarely experience the thrill of experiencing shining eyes of love, acceptance, and welcome turned in their direction anymore.  Children grow up and daily life becomes mundane.  Marriages may be in peril, if the spouse finds the shine in someone else’s eyes.   Adults don’t even know they miss it, until they recognize the “instant joy” once again.   It was a look that was lost and it saddened me to think that this was the case for many people.

I realized that as human beings we want eyes to light up when we come into a room.  The shine has to say, “You’re here. Joy, joy, joy.”  People want, or more accurately, need for someone’s eyes to shine, happy, throwing out open hands in friendship or an enthusiastic embrace of unconditional love.  I crave it and feel joy when I see it.  Queen Maker no longer has to “miss that look” because he sees it every time he walks in the door.  Such a simple act to keep a relationship alive and fresh, deepening bonds of friendship and love.  My advice is to show all those you meet or love, the shine in your eyes and see what happens.  

Hearing Mom Again

If you read my previous post Selfish Mom Needs, you will understand what hearing the word Mom means to me.

The light of my life came to the school yesterday.  Since graduating from college he now has the time and the inclination to come back to his martial arts school to train. This means, dare I say it, that I will see Beloved once or twice a week. Joy, joy, joy!

I’ve been missing my kid for four years, especially the last few months. He’s been studying for finals and had six papers to write, meaning little to no sleep, lots of stress and little time for visiting. I was worried about him.  Now that he’s out of school, I’m hoping those dark circles under his eyes will soon be gone.

Knowing he is done with college, I can’t let my hopes (of spending lots of time with him) and my expectations to become unrealistic. I have to keep myself in check. He still has to find a job and when he starts working, again I won’t see him as much as I like. I know that I will go to the school anytime he will be training. I know I will be deeply disappointed if he doesn’t show.

Luckily for me his goal is to finally get his black sash this summer, meaning that I will see him more often.  I can be Mom again. I can hug my kid, give him a kiss, and tell him I love him to his face. Sometimes he can tell that I need to be Mom a few minutes longer, so yesterday after class, he asked me, “Mom, do you want to go with me and get something to eat.” Like, yeah!  Joy, he said the word, Mom.

Afterwards he decided he would drive me home, even though it was out of the way and Dad was still down the street at the school giving a lesson and would be done soon. He said he wasn’t done talking with me.  Joy!

So I will relish the time I do have with my Beloved.  It brings such joy to my life.  And once you’ve tasted joy, you want it everyday. I’ll settle for once or twice a week.

My Mother in Law has COPD

For the Love of a Child

My mother-in-law has COPD.  At first she didn’t understand what the doctors were telling her, as to what this condition actually means, maintaining but never getting better.  Her strength continues to diminish and her struggle for breath is ever increasing. She now understands that her condition can only worsen over time. All the stages of grief are present: terror, denial, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. And as the disease progresses, these stages will be repeated over and over.

Smoking was her addiction.  For decades she tried valiantly to quit.  She did it all, medicines, patches, acupuncture, and hypnosis.  Her addiction was strongly entrenched and there was no way to change it. When she smoked, a large grey cloud would literally hang in the air above her.  But one day something happened.  She quit cold turkey and went through a year and a half of hell, and to his credit, her husband, poor man, went though the same year and a half of his own hell living with her while she beat her addiction.  

A love greater than she had ever experienced was her reason to quit.  Because of this love she was able to find the will and strength to put the cigarettes away and I believe she extended her life by many years because of it. Her only grandson, Beloved, asked grandma to quit. 

One day Beloved noticed that I would wash all his clothes after a weekend visit with grandma and grandpa whether they were clean or not.  I would complain about the smoke smell and how foul I found it to be and he picked up on it.  He asked why grandma couldn’t smoke at our house, so I told him the story about his premature birth and the heart monitor he wore for six months after coming home from the hospital.  As a new mother, the heart monitor freaked me out.  Whenever the alarm sounded, and it went off frequently, I would be gripped in fear. I didn't want anything to compromise Beloved’s health at that time, so I told grandma for the first time in her life, that she could not smoke in my house. When I witnessed that grey cloud over her head while she was holding my child, I knew it had to stop.

At first she didn’t believe me, and then was indignant, and then insulted.  I remained firm and soon she was ostracized to the porch whenever she wanted to light up. This story prompted him to ask questions and more questions and more questions.  Ay yes, four year olds and their undying quest for knowledge.  I answered his questions about smoking and the health risk his grandmother was taking.

Two months later, I was wrapping Christmas gifts when I noticed Beloved playing with the leftover scraps of wrapping paper.  He was amusing himself by rolling them between his hands making cylinders and rolling them on the floor. When I was done wrapping the last gift, he came to me with the colorful cylinders in his hands and asked me to wrap them up.  What are they? He answered that they were a present for grandma.  They were cigarettes and that these would be much better for her than what she was smoking now.  I was touched and did what he asked. At the same time, I knew I was setting grandma up.

Queen Maker said, “You aren’t really going to give them to her are you?  It’ll make her feel bad.” I told him it was Beloved’s present to her and maybe she should feel bad. Beloved thought this one up all on his own. Who am I to tell him he is wrong that he can’t give a present that he so lovingly fashioned especially for his grandmother.

This is a lesson that only a four-year-old can teach and she was about to learn it. Beloved took the wrapped cigarettes and put them in his “present” bag.  Beloved was proud when he presented grandma with his gift.  I mentioned that he had made the gift all by himself and brought them to me to wrap.  She made a big deal of it, confused as to what they actually were. He told her they were new cigarettes that she could smoke instead of the bad ones.  She was a little side swiped by the explanation. This small loving act from her four-year-old grandson spoke volumes to her.

Later I told Beloved that he was probably the only person in the world that could help grandma quit because she loved him so much. That if she couldn’t do it for him, she probably couldn’t ever do it.  It might work. That by telling her that he loved her and wanted her to be there for his graduation from college and at his wedding that she might find the strength enough to quit.

She told me years later, that the next time she lit up in front of him, he asked her specifically to stop smoking. He told her that he wanted her to be alive and well.  He asked her, don’t you want to see me graduate from college or when I get married or when I have my own boy? And from that day forward she stopped smoking.  She did put a pack of cigarettes in her desk drawer, but only as a safety net. Knowing they were there made her feel better, but she never had to take them out.  Years later when Beloved was seven years old, he saw them when she opened the drawer and instantly became angry with her. He asked her if it wasn’t about time to throw them out.  And she did.

She hasn’t smoked in 17 years, but the emphysema came anyways.  Now her body is denying her the freedom of movement she once enjoyed. But with the help of oxygen she is hanging on and working on maintaining quality of life. I am sure that Beloved’s intervention gave her many more years. A week ago, she witnessed his college graduation.  

Selfish Mom Needs

I wrote the following a year or so ago, when I felt a little low.  Tomorrow, I become Mom again. 

I miss something and I miss it a lot.  Ever since my Beloved left home for college, I miss being “Mom.” I didn’t realize it until a few months had passed.  Of course, in the beginning, Beloved called for us to bring him more stuff, more food, moral support.  But soon those calls for help slowed down and eventually came only once or twice a month.

I looked around and no one needed me. Beloved was my traveling companion just as I was his chauffeur. My driving companion was gone, the questions were gone, the conversations were gone and the asking was gone. By golly, even his laundry was gone. My activities were no longer dictated by his activities. My schedule no longer was impacted by whether or not he needed something that day. Our dinner plans became simplified, no longer needing to take into consideration his taste or quantity requirements. After 18 years, I no longer had to get up to make sure he had a warm breakfast before sending him off to school. 

A big part of me, the caring and nurturing aspects of my persona was no longer required, just wrapped up and put away until the call came again sometime in the future for “Mom.” I finally realized that the sense of loss that I was feeling was my need to hear it, the word  “Mom.”  That single word “Mom” was my conditioned response, my Pavlovian equivalent to “I need you.”

You just can’t turn that off can you? Queen Maker offered to make the supreme sacrifice and take all the caring and nurturing I can give him, but that usually leads to him making me feel like a Queen, if you know what I mean. So it isn’t really the same thing, is it? Don’t get me wrong; nothing is more delicious in this world that being Queen Maker’s wife, if the name bestowed upon him in not evident enough. But this is about being called “Mom” and I most definitely am not his mother.

I wasn’t done hearing the word “Mom.”  I literally looked around. Where are my other children, isn’t there a spare somewhere around here? Why didn’t I have another one lying around? I wasn’t finished. I need someone to call me Mom and I need to hear it EVERY DAY. Beloved is well on his way in becoming self-sufficient and self-reliant.  Although he knows we have his back, our relationship is becoming more like great friends, which is exactly how Queen Maker and I had planned it. Excellent, but this does nothing to satisfy my selfish mom needs.

I started to envy my three sisters.  They have more than one child and each one of them have a gift that I will never have, a daughter. Ah, those daughters.  The relationships I watched develop between mother and daughter are beautiful and the bonds between them are well crafted in our family.

Youngest Sister has two boys and the divine Ms. M. who is in her first year of college and away from home. It is obvious that they are each other’s BFF. She calls Mom at least two to three times a day sharing triumphs and despair.

Middle Sister has the fairy like and talented Ms. A. who is eleven years old. Her older brother is now in his first year of college at State. See, Middle Sister still has one lying around – and she’s a girl! Middle Sister is letting me share, bless her soul.

The Sister After Me has a more unique situation. Not only does she have a son who is 28, she has a 30-year-old daughter, gifted Ms. T, with a little girl and boys of her own making Sister After Me a grandmother at 37. She is twice blessed because she is also a new mom again in mid-life with the sweet Ms. E., now four years old.

Years and years of the beautiful call, “Hey, Mom!” ahead for these lucky women. I’ve heard that a daughter is a daughter forever. Sigh, but enough with the daughter envy.

I felt as though my identity had suddenly changed.  I wasn’t ready to be non-Mom. When Beloved was born, a new identity was bestowed upon me. I joined the Mom Club and suddenly felt legitimized as an Adult Woman entrusted with the care of a precious life. Then, if by chance your Beloved turns out to be a wonderful person, my status not only as Mom but also as Successful Parent increased significantly in the eyes of others.  Hey, we are really good at raising a child. Who knew? Everyone loved Beloved and I was proud to be his Mom. He increased my standing greatly.  My identity thus evolved to be, Beloved’s Mom.

But now, no one would realize that.  From now on when someone new comes into my life, Beloved is not there standing next to me. They will not understand who I really am because no one is calling me “Mom.” The labels I wore so proudly are no longer evident. The name “Mom” ringing out made me feel younger because all the Moms in the room would turn to the sound. Whether you were in your 20’s, 30’s, 40’s and 50’s. Yes, I too have a child in the room, and our membership in this club makes us all seem younger.

The next thought made me cringe.  If I was no longer to be known as Beloved’s Mom or just Mom, how would people perceive me? What was my next identity in life? I will soon turn fifty facing menopause and becoming an old lady.  No. No. NO. NO!   Quick someone let me borrow a kid. 

My own dear Mom always puts things in perspective.  “Honey, don’t worry, you still have a chance. Your aunt thought she was going through menopause and found out she was pregnant at the age of 50. Remember? Of course, she had to be hospitalized for exhaustion several times in the first three years, but you still can get pregnant. You’ll be 50 soon; there is still hope yet. You may still be blessed just like your aunt. That would be wonderful. Don’t look so horrified. It could still happen. It would be a good thing.”

Oh my god! What I am really asking for here? I was just feeling sorry for myself. I just wanted someone to call me Mom again.  Wait. I mean I just missed being called Mom, Wait. I don’t want another child NOW, not really. I’m going to be 50. I work with 4 and 5 year olds everyday at school. That should be good enough. Really I don’t know why I was complaining so much. Just because none of them can call me Mom… Wait, I don’t mean that. Knock on some wood. No that’s laminate, that doesn’t count. Find wood now! No, I’m not calling you Queen Maker.

Will my selfish rant be heard above and will someone smile and say, “Careful what you ask for sister.”

Oh, dear Saint Emily Litella*, hear my words,  “Never mind.” 

*the lovely Gilda Radner's character on SNL  

Graduation Day

We almost didn’t do this.  Beloved at first agreed to do it, but as the date drew nearer it was apparent that he really didn’t want to go through with it. He moaned when he thought about it. It represented time lost, valuable time.  Time spent finishing an important twenty-page paper and saying good-bye to friends he may never see again. It represented another day without rest. Time better used spent sleeping, since he’s only been living on three to four hours a night studying for finals.

It represented ritual, which he’s not really into. It meant listening to boring speeches by people that didn’t interest him. His name would not be called. He wouldn’t even get his diploma.  He would be one of thousands of young graduates sitting together dress in their black caps and gowns. When the appropriate time came he would just stand and then sit down. To him it meant an ordeal. His arguments seem sound and I was ready to let him have his way - again. 

Thank goodness that Queen Maker had different ideas. "He's really exhausted and just can't deal with anything right now.  He'll be happy he went. This is an momentous occasion in his life and in our family's. This is no small fete. We need to celebrate it, even if it means going through the pomp and circumstance ritual."   

Today we attended our son’s graduation from the University of Michigan.  His aunts and uncles, his grandparents, and his parents sat in the stands loving every moment. The weather was perfect. The massive graduation was a spectacle. The grand scale of the event mirrored the enormity of this day and what it truly means to our family.

I was so glad we didn’t listen to his complaints. Later, Beloved said, “Yeah. I have to admit it. It was pretty cool. I’m glad I did it.”

Walking into the Stadium

Only a quarter of the way full.

The 2009 Graduating Class of University of Michigan.