Apron String Theory

I read an article on motherhood recently. The author wrote "to be a mother is to wish with all your might that it be you instead who breaks the arm, who bleeds, whose heart is crushed." She also wrote "Don't let any harm come, in any form, on my watch. The vigilance is without end."

Uh. Okay, but no thanks. I'll pass on the fear mongering and constant "vigilance." There's enough fear running around loose in the world, mine doesn't need to join it. The last thing I want is for my boys to be bubble-wrapped, Purell'd and unprepared to navigate our crazy, beautiful world. I'm of the belief that painful experiences, physical and emotional, are a huge part of learning to be a decent human being. So I refuse to hover. Besides, I'm a bit lazy and trying to control every little thing is just too much trouble.

My own Mom  encouraged exploration and adventure. I was a tomboy and a bit of a hyper handful so she probably just wanted me out of her hair. I spent a lot of time playing outside unsupervised. I have a scar or two and some great stories to prove it. Once I begged my older sister to let me ride on the handlebars of her new banana seat bike. We hit a curb and crashed spectacularly and I ended up in the hospital with a concussion. I don't remember being scared at all, it was quite a blast really until I hit pavement. What I do remember is feeling a little too wild and free and knowing something more powerful than me was at work. In this case: gravity. I discovered that elusive boundary between wild abandon and the need for common sense. I was learning first hand a little bit of how the world operated and gaining healthy respect for things beyond my control. My mom wasn't lecturing me about it or making me read it from a book. I'll always want my boys to go out there and explore, get a little dirty and banged up, and to come home and tell me about it. And if I'm lucky and they do, I can tend to the wound, offer some comfort, help put things in perspective and hopefully we can find something about it worth laughing at.

I remember what it was like to get my heart broken by a boy I loved. I also remember what it was like to be the new kid sitting alone in the lunchroom. Would I go back and spare myself the pain of a break up? Had my mom sit with me in the lunch room the first week of school? NO. Because I learned from those experiences what rejection and loneliness feel like and now I can spot it in others. The most compassionate people are those that have been through some pain. The quickest to pick up the fallen are those that remember what it felt like to fall.

So when I read parenting treacle like that article, aimed at me and designed to make me feel part of an elite and smug sisterhood of protective mommies, I can't help but barf a little.  Don't you, too? Motherhood doesn't give us the right to be martyrs of constant worry. It means, by some sheer miracle, I've been given the incredible honor of helping two young souls navigate their way through the world for a brief time on this earth. It will not serve them well to have me clutching the helm out of fear, even though there is plenty to fear besides  broken bones and broken hearts. Of course I want to protect and nurture my boys, my love for them is bigger than I ever could have imagined before I had them, but my ultimate responsibility is to prepare them to belong to something bigger and much more important than themselves. To do that I have to allow them to live, knowing living is sometimes messy, scary and painful.

I know a lot of really great mothers. One of the greatest blessings in my life is their friendships. The ones I admire the most keep the apron strings loose as best they can, despite their fear and worries. They lead their kids by example and live a full life, laughing and learning from mistakes they make along the way. They focusing on the joy of the ride, not all the things that could go wrong. They bravely put their faith in the greatest Protector there is, knowing full well their sons and daughters have always truly belonged to Him anyway.

Sexual Casualties

Samantha on Sex and the City started it. I don't think she meant to and she totally made it look like a ton of fun, but she opened up a whole Pandora's box of unrealistic expectations for young women. She made it look like a good idea to, and I quote,"f*** like a man." Without emotion, is how she put it. She did whatever felt good to her at the moment without considering the repercussions. Sounds liberating and glamorous, but I think in the long run it just sucks. Living like that has consequences that I don't think are worth it. The disasters that are the lives of the characters on Girls should be proof enough.

I see a trend on TV and in real life among young women. They're disappointed with the guys in their lives yet unable to quite figure out why.  They lament that guys are not interested in relationships, only casual sex. Newsflash, there will always be guys like that. So aim higher. Perhaps these girls need to take a look at themselves for a clue to why they are attracting such low-quality boys. Yes, I meant to say girls and boys (not women and men) because talking boldly about sex and and having a bunch of it isn't the same as being a grown up.  As for Samantha, I think it's pretty simplistic and insulting to say men are unemotional about sex. Maybe just the ones she found herself surrounded by?

Whether you're a man or a woman, as a general rule, you can't be sexually irresponsible and selfish and expect true intimacy and a relationship above your navel when it becomes convenient for you. If you're a woman, you can't consistently dress, talk and behave like a 'ho and expect to be treated like a lady. I realize this is wildly unfair, because men can be total sluts and the consequences are never as bad for them. Infuriating, unjust, but true. For now, at least. All I am saying is in my 44 years of living I have observed that when a woman has a healthy respect for herself, she tends to attract men that are worthy of her. Isn't that really the kind of man most women want to be with versus the shallow man slut? You'll get a concussion diving in his pool.

I realize I'm old-fashioned, but I am genuinely sad for this generation that seems to have lost the concept of romance. Recently a few young women told me it's rare to get asked out on a date. Guys just aren't taking them out and making an effort to get to know them. They meet in bars and hook up.  I'm all for bars, God knows, but wow is it lazy if a guy is interested but can't get off his ass and create a little fun. It's as if they've traded in the mystery and excitement of courtship that, yes, takes effort on both sides, in favor of the ease and feebleness of trash like friends with benefits and sexting. I just can't fathom sleeping with a friend, or a stranger (!?!?) then looking him in the face the next morning and feeling like what happened was no more special than splitting a pizza. It would be dumbing down and diminishing a pretty amazing and powerful thing.  To be clear, my love life was NOT all rainbows and butterflies in my youth, actually it was a highly comical mess, but I don't have any awful regrets and I always felt there was respect and genuine affection between me and the guys I dated. Maybe all they really wanted was to make out, I don't know, but at least they were nice about it and showed me a good time first.

In the sixties a very good thing happened that has been slightly distorted and definitely taken for granted of late. The "women's lib" revolution gave us females a shot at living life as previously enjoyed only by men. Slowly and painfully, thanks to those brave enough to pave the way, opportunities for women opened up in careers once dominated by males. We became more equal to men in the eyes of society. Our thoughts and ideas began to be considered just as legitimate and valued.  The rights and freedoms women enjoy now were once only a dream. I wonder if today's young women know just how much of a struggle it was for women like my mom, who grew up in the deep south and whose options were really limited, to build herself a career and earn the respect of men in her field. She didn't do it so you could f*** like a man, ladies. She did it for self-respect and in hopes that her daughters, girls like you, could be taken seriously and have a few choices in life.

I've heard the business phrase "spilling your candy" and think it applies here.  It means giving away too much, too soon. Ladies, don't spill your candy. If a guy isn't worthy of what you have to offer, hold it a little closer to your chest and move on. I speak from experience here. My advice would be to find things about yourself physically and mentally that you love and make it a point to nurture them. Surround yourself with the girlfriends that you can totally be yourself with and who won't let you take yourself too seriously. Find a place where you are needed, where you help those less fortunate than you. This makes you less of a selfish jerk and harder to feel sorry for your self. Realize that when a guy does ask you out, it probably took a lot of courage. Show a little appreciation for that. And know that a bike ride in a park or a visit to a museum is sometimes a lot more conducive to real conversation than a stuffy upscale restaurant with $16 cocktails he may not be able to afford at the moment. Focus on these things and I bet there will be less space in your life for the boys that only want to hook up in bars and more for the men you really want.

Now I Get It

I'm forty-four years old and I finally get it. Of course I've known all along but my stubborn desire for an impossible ideal caused some confusion.  But this year, with a clear head, I get what Christmas is all about and my heart is bursting.

For years, I have tried to "create" Christmas tailored to ridiculous standards impossible to obtain. Even though I knew the Christmas story and honored it, my real focus was on decorating beautifully, pulling off a menu that pleased everyone and choosing perfect gifts.  There is nothing wrong with any of those things and wanting to achieve them. What was very wrong was my belief, hidden deep down, that if I did all these things right I would be rewarded somehow and be happy. I was focused on what I wanted instead of what I could give.

Perhaps it's the jolt of the horrific tragedy in Newtown that has caused my thinking to distill and gravitate towards what is true.  Maybe it's the time I've invested in the Bible over the past three months. (I did a class called The Bible in 90 Days. I won't lie, for me it was hell. I would love to say I sailed right through, but I fell asleep during major chunks of the Old Testament. I yelled at God during Leviticus and Deuteronomy and fell to my knees with humility upon reaching the gospels. But that experience is something to write about another day) Maybe it's just that I am finally growing up. Whatever the reason, I'm grateful, relieved and brimming with joy about the upcoming week.

Call it grace. This year, I get it that Jesus was Love in human form. He was literally Light born at a time when the world was a very dark and ugly place. Other than a few stern warnings, He pretty much ignored those in power who were perpetuating the darkness and ugliness. Instead, he chose to hang out with the dregs of society. He showed compassion and unconditional love to children, prostitutes, the mentally ill, the poor, the sick, the contagious, the dying, the homeless, the broken, the hopeless. He loved them. He gave them hope. In his brief time on earth, He spread the radically revolutionary ideas of forgiveness, mercy and grace. He changed everything. And He gave us the message that, if we chose to, through Him we could change everything too.

I wonder what He thinks of all the the time and energy I've wasted pursuing my silly ideal of His birthday, when all I had to do was sit still. Sit still and listen to the sounds of the Salvation Army bell, the carols of children, the crackling fireplace. Sit still and really see the beauty of lights lining my street, the tree hung with years of memories, the tiny manger scene on the mantel. Sit still and feel the warmth of a thick coat, the chill of a winter night, the love of those around me.

When my family gathers at my house on Christmas Eve, it won't really matter how my house looks, what the food tastes like or whether the gifts I gave were a good choice. What will truly matter is that I show love. For that is, and always will be, the greatest gift of all.

For My Boys

Anger, lust, fear, jealousy and embarrassment come and go. Remember that when in their grip.  Love remains.

The world needs you, not an imitation of someone else or who you think you should be. It needs YOU just as you are today, imperfections and all.

I hope you find a girl who brings out all that is good in you and who finds you as funny, brilliant and adorably awesome as I do.

I hope you find work one day that interests and challenges you.  Give it your all.  Ditch digger or neuclear physicist, I am and always will be proud of you.

Know when to be tough and when to be tender.

Remember that everyone, no matter how they appear on the outside, is fighting some sort of battle.  Be patient and kind to all.

Have no tolerance for cruelty. Stand up for what is right.

Pray. Nothing is too big or too small to bring to God.

Read: newspapers, magazines, and books. The more you read, the more interesting the world is and the more interesting you become.

Always, always forgive. Others and yourself.  Forgiving won't make what happened right, but it will free you to move on.

Learn to recognize your inner critic and tell it where to go.

When life gets rough, remember who you are and where you come from.  I will be right here when you need me with an open heart and open arms.

Rude People Suck...the Joy Out of Life

I have a real problem with rude people. It seems silly to let some asshat stranger suck the happy out of my day, yet it happens with increasing frequency.  I'm totally open to suggestions for dealing with these gems of society. Perhaps you've encountered them as well.

The Driver from Hell:  This particular perp is rampant in the DC area.  We've got loads of people in powerful, stressful positions (or perceive themselves to be) and in an awful big hurry. Driver from Hell commandeers his vehicle as if en route to perform brain surgery on dying infants. Really he's going to Starbucks for a venti caramel frap, extra whip.  His message is clear: "I'm important. I'm in a big damn hurry. I'm gonna pile drive up your exhaust pipe until you cave to my vehicular bullying and change lanes." He weaves in and out of lanes, tailgates, cuts you off, speeds up at yellow lights and generally behaves like Mario Andretti on crack.  His grille hovers about six inches away from your back bumper. At seventy miles per hour. Apparently he was sick the day they taught blinker usage in driver's ed. That police car that always appears when you're just a smidge over the speed limit?  Never around when this egomaniac is on the road.

The Aggressive Shopper:  The Costco in Fairfax on any given day might as well be downtown Manhattan at noon.  Every time I go I vow it's the last time but find myself back for 300 Gatorades, 1,000 rolls of toilet paper and a feed sack of those addictive pita chips.  It's wall to wall shopping carts and Aggressive Shopper has an important agenda (she has a tanning salon appointment) and we are all just obstacles in her way. She's the one who steals the parking spot you've been patiently waiting for the octagenarian to back out of. She's the one loudly complaining in the returns line when she doesn't have a receipt and they won't give her cash. She's the one behind you whose cart keeps nipping your heels but clueless because she's got her big ass sunglasses on, she's texting with one hand and swinging her fake Louis Vuitton on the other, knocking down merchandise as she goes.  When a new register opens, she's the one who races from the back of the line to be the first one there. She's a gigantic selfish jerk and I always need a stiff Coke and one of those horribly delicious fried churro stick things after I've dealt with her.

The Obnoxious Sports Fan:  This one really gets me.  Probably because they are so blissfully unaware of the damage they leave in their wake, mostly inflicted upon their own children.  Obnoxious Sports Fan can be identified by numerous traits, all equally nerve-grating and offensive.  Most of us past third grade get it that good sportsmanship - on the field and off - is the cornerstone of advanced civilization.  Not this knuckle-draggin' fella. With no regard whatsoever for the eardrums, much less the sanity, of those unfortunate enough to be seated around him, he blasts his armchair-quarterbacking brilliance for all to hear.  Nobody is safe. Referees, coaches, opposing fans, players on both teams (especially his own kid), the poor time clock guy and the scoreboard keeper are all subject to his blustery vomit .  He was an assistant coach or maybe even actually played a game in his youth and therefore is armed with just enough sports knowledge to entitle him to boom his hair-trigger opinion straight into your inner cochlea at close range.  He looks like he'd get winded walking to the don's john behind the bleachers, yet he screams at his kid to run faster, hit harder and "LOOK ALIVE!!!"  Pretty certain he wouldn't look too alive after 5 minutes of water aerobics, much less an entire football game.  Obnoxious Sports Fan has the power to make me want to roundhouse kick him in the teeth and feel no remorse.  Clearly, I have a problem.

Rude people are everywhere and they appear to be multiplying.  Rudeness, like poison ivy, spreads quickly and causes an annoying and uncomfortable situation for those exposed, yet the source remains oblivious.  We're setting ourselves back thousands of years if we let these Neanderthals with no regard for anyone else but themselves take over.  Problem is, short of stooping to their level, I'm at a loss for how to stop them.

Parents: Relax...But Get That Diptet First

Why is it that so many in my generation have become complete freaks about parenting?  I'd like to give part of the blame to the book "What to Expect When You're Expecting", Baby Mozart, Baby Einstein and all that other hype we were told was "best" for our babies. We were somehow led to believe if we did everything perfectly we'd produce perfect little people.  Well, last time I checked our kids are pretty much just as flawed as every other generation of human beings before them.

God bless my mom for not laughing out loud when I was pregnant.  I'm certain she laughed behind my back.  In 1967, Mom was told by her obstetrician to "calm her nerves" with the occassional glass of sherry and to rely on putting us in the playpen for a few hours for her sanity.  I remember being horrified by this information when she first shared it with me, but now, years later I find it hilarious and somehow...wise. When I was expecting I felt completely evil for indulging in a rare glass of wine and was convinced I was a spineless slob for caving to cravings for drive-thru french fries. My oldest is lucky he wasn't born with a little red cardboard sleeve around him emblazoned with the McDonald's logo.

The message was clear in the 90's: parents were directly responsible for their children either becoming the next genius philanthropist or the next Jeffrey Dahmer.  It all hinged on pre-natal diet, exposure to classical music, and toys that stimulated the brain.  Using a playpen was pretty much child neglect. Everything I heard and read was that my children's minds and bodies needed stimulation and I was directly responsible for it.  So I stuck them in bouncy seats, johnny jumpers and rotating thingies that had mirrors, buttons, and bright alphabet letters and numbers.  We went on jaunts to the park, the petting zoo, museums and the library. I felt overwhelmed with the weight of making sure my sweet little boys didn't turn out to be complete morons or worse, felons.  It was information overload with all the rules to follow to be a good parent and ensure my boys grew to be productive members of society. I felt like poor Ed in Raising Arizona. "He's gotta have his diptet!!"

Go ahead, hit play. You know you want to.....

Shining through the fog of early motherhood, it miraculously came to me that my own intuition was a far better authority than any expert's opinion.  My second child was perfectly happy to lay on a blanket and play with his toes and skip all the activity my older son had reveled in.  I knew by looking into his eyes he was just as bright and just as healthy as his big brother. (Which was a another miracle, considering he pretty much swam in french fry grease in the womb) Trying to stimulate the second one was just plain unfair to who he was as a little person.  That and the fact that I'm basically lazy.  So I began a personal rebellion against the parenting "authorities" and all their confounding rules.  I'm not saying I didn't listen to my pediatrician, but I did begin to take every new piece of information with a grain of salt and question certain practices that went against my common sense. I had a friend call me in all seriousness one day and urge me to stop using night lights in the kids rooms because a new study showed they stunted developing eyesight. I politely listened, hung up and ignored the advice. It was fun to buck the rules and go with my own intuition.  It just felt better, liberating, in fact. I've never regretted it.

I'm not sure how it happened, but somehow my generation seems to have lost basic trust in ourselves as parents. I say this because I slip down that slope myself. We defer to the experts and to others who seem to have it all figured out and sometimes ignore our own common sense.  I think it's the desire to do the right thing and not to mess up.  That's totally admirable, but the problem is life IS messy.  We're gonna mess up.  And so are our kids.  Haven't we all learned from making mistakes, picking ourselves up and moving on?

I'm feeling like clueless Ed again these days as one of my boys prepares for high school and another for college. There is so much information out there about grades, sports, SATs and colleges and a lot of is scary as hell.  I'm hearing a lot of noise from experts on sports nutrition, trainers, test prep classes, which teachers to avoid, which ones to request, which colleges are best and what you have to do to get in to them.  It's overwhelming and exhausting and if I tried to follow all of the advice I would lose my mind.  I love my boys, we all love our kids madly, don't we?  Which is probably why we are all a little insane about parenting them.  But we have to love them enough to let them be themselves, to blaze their own trail, to make their own decisions and to sometimes make a mess of things.

I've made a point to step back and let them learn to trust their own instincts.  They don't need me hovering over them making them nervous or they will always question their own intuition.  They'll figure it out.  And one day when they are parents themselves and seek my advice, I'll be there. Perhaps with a glass of sherry and stories of my struggles to help them laugh at themselves for taking things all too seriously.

Do You Know What Jesus Said About Homosexuality? I Do.

I can usually see both sides of an argument and rarely feel strongly attached to either enough to get into the fray. Until now. The recent controversy over whether or not gay couples should have the right to marry has me compelled to speak up for what I think is right.

I've spent many hours over the past twenty or so years studying the Bible on my own and in the classroom. It began in my late teens out of curiosity, skepticism, and a need to believe in something bigger than myself. Now I study it because it has become a refuge and source of guidance for me. I'm no authority and don't follow it to the letter, but in the marked up, dog-eared pages of my Bible I believe there is Truth. So, when I hear people twisting my religion to justify their bigotry, I take notice.

The Jesus I have studied never said ONE WORD about homosexuality. I find this interesting. I believe it was simply a non-issue to Him. As I wish it was for us.  He did say a great deal about loving thy neighbor, reaching out to those in need, and leaving the judgement up to God.  One of the few times he showed anger was when he observed people hiding behind rules and law to justify their lack of compassion and mercy for others. I also find that interesting.

The Bible does indeed have something to say about homosexuality.  Before Jesus' arrival, in the Old Testament, right along with passages about animal sacrifice. If you are going to base your denial of civil rights to fellow citizens on the book of Leviticus, then you need to take a very close look at what you eat, how you dress, and your own sexual behavior because I'm pretty sure you are breaking some dictates that are very clear about those very things. "Take the plank out of your own eye before you point out the dust in another's." "Judge not lest ye be judged."  Those words are part of the Bible, too.  Are they less important than the words that happen to back up your personal discomfort with homosexuals?

Some argue that homosexuality is a sin. Let's humor that for a second. So, by that logic, it's okay to pass judgement on and deny equal rights to those who sin differently than you? Really. Think about that.  Denying equal civil rights goes against everything we are as a country.  Have we learned nothing from history?  Don't the bigots in the 1960's that were so upset about blacks having the right to vote seem ridiculously backward, childishly fearful to us now?

All the above shouldn't matter, thanks to our founding fathers and the First Amendment.  I love my church and am a follower of Jesus' teachings, but also I have a great appreciation for the separation of church and state.

I'll leave you with the recent words of Clint Eastwood.  'Cause he's the kind of guy I'd like to have my back when the bigoted bullies show up....

"These people who are making a big deal out of gay marriange? I don't give a f*** about who wants to get married to anybody else. Why not?!  We're making a big deal out of things we shouldn't be making a deal out of. They go on and on with all this bullshit about 'sanctity' - don't give me that sanctity crap. Just give everybody the chance to have the life they want."