I have had many roles in my life. From the very beginning, my first role was that of a daughter. Then sister, friend, employee, professional, girlfriend, wife, aunt - until my favorite and most important role yet: mother. I consider myself to be a pretty good mother. Mother of my kids, that is.
My dad is 80 years old because he was born in 1931. If you didn’t know that small fact, you’d think he was in his early 70’s based on how he looks. Based on how he acts and lives his life, you’d think he was in his 60’s. At least that’s what you would have thought if you met him any time before last month. For the past month, he’s been having health issues caused by a sprained rotator’s cuff, and because he is in Tampa, Fl and all of his children are elsewhere, we’ve been taking turns traveling to Florida to take care of him.
So it was my turn last week, to fly out to Tampa to take care of him and help my mother as she does. My father is one of the most jovial and driven people I have ever met. He has always been very agile, social, always moving and completely independent. When I arrived in their condo last week, I met an entirely different man. He is completely dependable for everything, with little mobility and deeply depressed. And if you have ever had to take care of someone who is uncomfortable and in pain, you would have expected to deal with crankiness and lack of tolerance, and wouldn’t have been caught off guard like I was. He was cranky because he needed help, and had little tolerance with any instructions or suggestions I had – all for his well-being and recovery, I might add.
If there is one thing I have learned to develop as a mother, it is patience. Don’t ask me how I’ve done it and where this bottomless patience comes from, as it’s been a really unexpected characteristic (and blessing) that came to me with motherhood. I remember my daughter’s first ever two year old tantrum. It was time to go home from the playground and she was not happy. As we walked home she was crying and complaining and when she realized this wasn’t buying her more time at the playground, she threw herself on the ground crying. I know exactly what I would have done before I had kids. I would have gotten angry, raised my voice to whoever was making this scene and if I could, walked away. Instead, I picked her up, shielding myself from kicks that were coming my way, as I quietly spoke to her in her ear, telling her all the wonderful things we’d do when we got home. This didn’t help much, as she cried and kicked the entire way home. This lasted a total of maybe ten minutes (though it felt like a lifetime to me), as once we got home, she immediately calmed down and got distracted with her toys. All was good and I finally had a moment to catch my breath. My daughter didn’t seem faced by what had just happened. Meanwhile, I realized as my heart raced, that a life altering experience had hit me. That day I realized how strong and tolerant we can be when love is the driving force. How understanding and forgiving love is, and how there are no conditions when it comes to the love of your child.
Something very similar hit me last week as I took care of my dad. I found myself caring for him in a way that I’ve only done for my children before. Feeding him, wiping his mouth, helping him walk, letting him hold on to me as he did… I’ve done it all, and yet I’d never done it before. A sense of responsibility and satisfaction overwhelmed me, but it was accompanied by an unexpected sense of sadness. I am nurturer, and not because I’m a mother; it’s just who I am. I have seen myself mothering sisters, friends, my husband.... Playing the role of a mother comes very naturally to me. And yet as I found myself needing to be a mother to both my dad and my mom, things didn’t flow the same way. I can’t really describe exactly why. Perhaps it wasn’t just me who felt in an awkward position being the parent. My parents probably felt the awkwardness too. It’s just not something that you grow up preparing yourself for. There are no books, no instruction manuals, on how to be a mother to your parents. It’s instinctive, yet slightly unnatural. But again, driven by love, which somehow makes it work.
But life has a way of happening exactly the way it should. Each and every experience, emotion felt, moment lived happens seamlessly and without much effort, and all of us end up living exactly what we are destined to live. And if you’re lucky enough, like I am, you find a lesson to be learned and take that lesson with you, for the next time. Playing the role of a mother to my parents was a demonstration of unconditional love, and specifically for me, it came accompanied with a lesson on forgiveness. A lesson that was years in the making…
Monday, October 3, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
My formula for a good daughter
I had lunch with a friend a couple of weeks ago. She just had a baby girl three months prior and I wanted to meet her little bundle of joy. So we met at a café for a quick bite (we need to optimize for quick when dining with a three month old…).
My friend looked great and at ease with her daughter. This is her second child, and you can immediately tell that she’s gone through it before. As we were both chatting and munching on our salads, I saw how she was having a hard time getting through her food as she juggled her salad, soup and little baby girl in her arms. Having been through moments like that myself, I tried to speed up my eating so I could hold her daughter and give her a chance to eat in peace (or at least, with her two hands).
We switched places and I stood up doing the mommy dance while she ate and we both talked. And she asked about my kids, particularly about my 12 year old daughter, who she is a big fan of. She asked me in a very frank and direct way: “how did you do it? MJ (that’s my daughter) is such a poised, confident, well-mannered girl. What did you do so she’d turn out so great and can I please have the secret formula?” It is one of the nicest compliments anyone has ever given me and one that I’ll always think of with pride.
I really didn’t have a clear answer. I couldn’t say, “Ok, here’s what you do…” Her comment made me smile, and then it made me think, become introspective and I actually asked myself, “How DID I do it?” Because I agree, my daughter is absolutely great. She is a joy to be around; she’s smart, confident, outgoing, polite, and compassionate. But she’s a typical pre-teen, and has and is facing challenges that will make her stronger or weaker. As I pondered my friend’s question, three things came to mind. I didn’t immediately give an answer to my friend, but these are things that I think have contributed to the person my daughter is today.
1. Respect. I have always regarded my kids as people, not just children. And as any other human being, they deserve respect from me. It is easy to lose that perspective when you are dealing with young people who have yet to mature. It is easy to lose sight of this fact and treat a child in a condescending way, with the infamous “because I said so”, with no care for explanation, the yelling, the not-seen-a-lot-these-days, but still-occasional spanking… In a way that, if you were to put a grown adult in the place of that child, it would be seen as disrespectful. Can you imagine making a decision at work, and when a co-worker asks for the business reason for it, you simply say “because I say so?” That would be wrong on so many levels - but with your child, it is ok? My children deserve the same level of reasoning and respect any adult would deserve from me. Why wouldn’t they? Because they’re little? Because I have the authority? Because I’m in charge? I have had the intention to be respectful to my children by not abusing my level of authority with them.
I have always disciplined my kids, they know who is in charge and they respond to my “1, 2, 3…” very quickly. But I have always been very conscientious of two things: one, they are little people, deserving of the same amount of respect I give to any other adult in my life – if not more. And two, someday, they will be adults, and if I continue to do my motherly job right, self-sufficient, independent adults who will have the choice to be respectful or disrespectful to me and anyone else around them. I want to make sure that I respect them today in a way that they will respect me tomorrow.
I feel my children have immense respect for me. The honest to God, “look up to,” loving kind of respect, not one born out of fear. The fact that I have gained that kind of respect makes me think that they are reciprocating what I give them. And that makes me feel really good about how things will turn out in the future.
2. Support. I remember MJ’s third grade teacher referring to her as an “old soul” when she was being awarded a courage award at school. If you look up the definition of old soul, it defines it as “a person who is wise beyond their years.” That definitely sounds like my daughter. And with that unexpected wisdom, comes confidence and independence. My daughter has never been a needy and insecure girl, but she has gone through stages in her young life where she’s needed me in ways that she and I didn’t expect.
Her pre-puberty years were a bit of a surprise in how she started developing physically. She started gaining weight and the cute, little girl people knew wasn’t so little anymore. I myself went through a chubby stage when I was young, but this stage hit me after puberty, not before, so her development was unexpected. Somehow, because I had gone through a similar stage as a girl, I knew to identify the signs when it happened to my daughter and felt prepared to tackle this with her. I decided to create an after school routine for her, so she’d keep active and exercising. I put her in tennis lessons, something she now loves and has become passionate about. I talked to her about the fact that the word “diet” shouldn’t be part of her lifestyle, that at her growth stage, you don’t focus on losing weight, but in eating right, controlling portions and keeping active. And we did just that, as a team. Sometimes after finishing her dinner, she’d tell me she wanted an extra helping, and I’d ask her “do you want more because you’re still hungry or because the food is so good?” Most of the time she’d realize she wasn’t really hungry and it was ok to stop. But not once did I make that decision for her. She felt in control, because she was. It was a beautiful stage in both of our lives and in our mother/daughter relationship.
This is an example of a life stage, a life experience that you don’t necessarily always think you need to be there for. This could have been something that went right through my head and I could have addressed with a “you’ve had enough to eat, put down your plate”. My support wasn’t in being there to make her breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was being there as a coach and guide, teaching her how to make good decisions in a way that is completely personalized to her individual personality and needs. I don’t think my daughter thinks of this time of her life as a crucial one, as one that marked her. But maybe it did, in a really wonderful way.
3. Teach by example. It’s very simple: If you want your children to be compassionate towards others, let them see you being compassionate. You want your kids to say please and thank you? Let them see you saying please and thank you. You want your children to be giving with people in their lives? Let them see you be giving. Who you are, they will most likely turn out to be. This might be obvious, but it is not trivial. I see how we adults act or react to moments our kids might witness, like when a driver cuts in front of us on the road, or how we respond to someone who is rude to us (or nice to us!) at the grocery store, or even how we approach the day ahead of us, optimizing for happiness or dreading the chores ahead. The way you face these things, react to them, work through tough emotions and difficult times, that’s how your kids will handle them as well. Heck, even the public figures that we admire or disapprove of, what they stand for and why we like/dislike them, they will take something away from that as well. We parents are non-stop teachers. Our children will emulate our reactions, our opinions, our beliefs.
The line between being a daughter and being a mother intertwine for me as my daughter grows. With each new life experience I see my daughter going through, I have seen my childhood flash before me. I try to be sympathetic of how she feels, remembering how I felt when I was her age. When she gets in trouble, I think of the times that I did, why I did, what I learned from it and how I learned it. And I try to teach her similar lessons, with the understanding that sometimes you have to get in trouble (sometimes more than once) to get the lesson and how the lesson is better grasped. It’s a really good exercise that has helped me endure and understand things from my childhood, while at the same time be the mother my daughter has needed me to be for her. We are both learning and growing up as we go. Together.
My daughter is only twelve years old. I have a long way to go before she is independent, and even after that, as I know motherhood is a never ending job – and how blessed I am for that. But I am very pleased with how things are going, and consider myself lucky that I’ve had such a great pupil to get started with.
Now, I know that gender and personality play a part, but I’m hoping for similar results with my son… Same mom, same intent, same huge amount of love. On we go, with lots of faith.
My friend looked great and at ease with her daughter. This is her second child, and you can immediately tell that she’s gone through it before. As we were both chatting and munching on our salads, I saw how she was having a hard time getting through her food as she juggled her salad, soup and little baby girl in her arms. Having been through moments like that myself, I tried to speed up my eating so I could hold her daughter and give her a chance to eat in peace (or at least, with her two hands).
We switched places and I stood up doing the mommy dance while she ate and we both talked. And she asked about my kids, particularly about my 12 year old daughter, who she is a big fan of. She asked me in a very frank and direct way: “how did you do it? MJ (that’s my daughter) is such a poised, confident, well-mannered girl. What did you do so she’d turn out so great and can I please have the secret formula?” It is one of the nicest compliments anyone has ever given me and one that I’ll always think of with pride.
I really didn’t have a clear answer. I couldn’t say, “Ok, here’s what you do…” Her comment made me smile, and then it made me think, become introspective and I actually asked myself, “How DID I do it?” Because I agree, my daughter is absolutely great. She is a joy to be around; she’s smart, confident, outgoing, polite, and compassionate. But she’s a typical pre-teen, and has and is facing challenges that will make her stronger or weaker. As I pondered my friend’s question, three things came to mind. I didn’t immediately give an answer to my friend, but these are things that I think have contributed to the person my daughter is today.
1. Respect. I have always regarded my kids as people, not just children. And as any other human being, they deserve respect from me. It is easy to lose that perspective when you are dealing with young people who have yet to mature. It is easy to lose sight of this fact and treat a child in a condescending way, with the infamous “because I said so”, with no care for explanation, the yelling, the not-seen-a-lot-these-days, but still-occasional spanking… In a way that, if you were to put a grown adult in the place of that child, it would be seen as disrespectful. Can you imagine making a decision at work, and when a co-worker asks for the business reason for it, you simply say “because I say so?” That would be wrong on so many levels - but with your child, it is ok? My children deserve the same level of reasoning and respect any adult would deserve from me. Why wouldn’t they? Because they’re little? Because I have the authority? Because I’m in charge? I have had the intention to be respectful to my children by not abusing my level of authority with them.
I have always disciplined my kids, they know who is in charge and they respond to my “1, 2, 3…” very quickly. But I have always been very conscientious of two things: one, they are little people, deserving of the same amount of respect I give to any other adult in my life – if not more. And two, someday, they will be adults, and if I continue to do my motherly job right, self-sufficient, independent adults who will have the choice to be respectful or disrespectful to me and anyone else around them. I want to make sure that I respect them today in a way that they will respect me tomorrow.
I feel my children have immense respect for me. The honest to God, “look up to,” loving kind of respect, not one born out of fear. The fact that I have gained that kind of respect makes me think that they are reciprocating what I give them. And that makes me feel really good about how things will turn out in the future.
2. Support. I remember MJ’s third grade teacher referring to her as an “old soul” when she was being awarded a courage award at school. If you look up the definition of old soul, it defines it as “a person who is wise beyond their years.” That definitely sounds like my daughter. And with that unexpected wisdom, comes confidence and independence. My daughter has never been a needy and insecure girl, but she has gone through stages in her young life where she’s needed me in ways that she and I didn’t expect.
Her pre-puberty years were a bit of a surprise in how she started developing physically. She started gaining weight and the cute, little girl people knew wasn’t so little anymore. I myself went through a chubby stage when I was young, but this stage hit me after puberty, not before, so her development was unexpected. Somehow, because I had gone through a similar stage as a girl, I knew to identify the signs when it happened to my daughter and felt prepared to tackle this with her. I decided to create an after school routine for her, so she’d keep active and exercising. I put her in tennis lessons, something she now loves and has become passionate about. I talked to her about the fact that the word “diet” shouldn’t be part of her lifestyle, that at her growth stage, you don’t focus on losing weight, but in eating right, controlling portions and keeping active. And we did just that, as a team. Sometimes after finishing her dinner, she’d tell me she wanted an extra helping, and I’d ask her “do you want more because you’re still hungry or because the food is so good?” Most of the time she’d realize she wasn’t really hungry and it was ok to stop. But not once did I make that decision for her. She felt in control, because she was. It was a beautiful stage in both of our lives and in our mother/daughter relationship.
This is an example of a life stage, a life experience that you don’t necessarily always think you need to be there for. This could have been something that went right through my head and I could have addressed with a “you’ve had enough to eat, put down your plate”. My support wasn’t in being there to make her breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was being there as a coach and guide, teaching her how to make good decisions in a way that is completely personalized to her individual personality and needs. I don’t think my daughter thinks of this time of her life as a crucial one, as one that marked her. But maybe it did, in a really wonderful way.
3. Teach by example. It’s very simple: If you want your children to be compassionate towards others, let them see you being compassionate. You want your kids to say please and thank you? Let them see you saying please and thank you. You want your children to be giving with people in their lives? Let them see you be giving. Who you are, they will most likely turn out to be. This might be obvious, but it is not trivial. I see how we adults act or react to moments our kids might witness, like when a driver cuts in front of us on the road, or how we respond to someone who is rude to us (or nice to us!) at the grocery store, or even how we approach the day ahead of us, optimizing for happiness or dreading the chores ahead. The way you face these things, react to them, work through tough emotions and difficult times, that’s how your kids will handle them as well. Heck, even the public figures that we admire or disapprove of, what they stand for and why we like/dislike them, they will take something away from that as well. We parents are non-stop teachers. Our children will emulate our reactions, our opinions, our beliefs.
The line between being a daughter and being a mother intertwine for me as my daughter grows. With each new life experience I see my daughter going through, I have seen my childhood flash before me. I try to be sympathetic of how she feels, remembering how I felt when I was her age. When she gets in trouble, I think of the times that I did, why I did, what I learned from it and how I learned it. And I try to teach her similar lessons, with the understanding that sometimes you have to get in trouble (sometimes more than once) to get the lesson and how the lesson is better grasped. It’s a really good exercise that has helped me endure and understand things from my childhood, while at the same time be the mother my daughter has needed me to be for her. We are both learning and growing up as we go. Together.
My daughter is only twelve years old. I have a long way to go before she is independent, and even after that, as I know motherhood is a never ending job – and how blessed I am for that. But I am very pleased with how things are going, and consider myself lucky that I’ve had such a great pupil to get started with.
Now, I know that gender and personality play a part, but I’m hoping for similar results with my son… Same mom, same intent, same huge amount of love. On we go, with lots of faith.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Let go and trust
It's been too long since I've written here, which is a shame because I have material to write about every day. And almost every morning, as I drive to work, I start thinking of what I'd write. I make imaginary drafts in my head, get very into it, and then I get to work. And it all stays there - in my head, until I forget it all...
So now I sit in bed, with my kids sleeping next to me (which typically means my husband is traveling), trying to go down my inventory of significant parenting moments I've had in the last few hours, and one is popping in my head.
My twelve year old daughter had oral surgery just three days ago. I don't know about you, but when I had my wisdom teeth out, I was in my mid-twenties. I had gone through junior high, and high school, and braces, and boyfriends and was already dating my now husband. So when my husband came home one day telling me that our orthodontist, who I have a lot of respect for, mentioned that he wanted my twelve year old - still in elementary school- daughter to get her wisdom teeth out, of course I called a conference with him to discuss this. Long story short, what he said made sense and we proceeded to book this surgery with one of the oral surgeon he recommended. We booked it for a month away and from the moment I did, my maternal worrying chromosome (all of us mothers have one, right?) started to do its work. I didn't think about it every day, but when I did, I felt angst. I knew it was a very straight forward procedure and when we met the oral surgeon he made me feel super at ease with it all. But still, I was not looking forward to seeing my firstborn in pain. That was really my biggest concern - not that things wouldn't go well or that she would have a hard time prior to the surgery or anything like that - I was very focused on her level of pain and how much she would swell. Perhaps this was a projection for me, since I was thinking of my own pain when I went through this some eighteen years ago. But my daughter is a tough cookie; she is brave and strong and positive, so she didn't really seem too worried until the morning of surgery. She was filled with angst then. I was putting up my best show pretending to be really relaxed. I didn't want to show or transmit my angst to her.
She went in with my husband to get her IV, anesthesia, etc. I stayed outside with my son, and good thing I did. Apparently the doctor had a hard time getting the IV going and things got a bit tense in there, almost to the point of postponing the surgery. I can be a bit impatient at times (ok, a lot), and witnessing all this poking on my daughter with a frustrated doctor would have put me over the edge. Lucky for me and my daughter, my husband balances me that way, and was extremely patient throughout this incident.
An hour later my daughter was in recovery and ready for us to come see her. The nurse came to get us and walked us to her through a different area of the clinic. So when she opened a door for us, I expected to walk through a hallway and in the direction of the room where MJ would be. Instead, right in front of me was my daughter, sitting in a recliner chair, with her mouth and eyes half opened, swollen and unable to make much sense of what was happening around her. My heart dropped the minute I saw her and I immediately had to put all my focus in making sure I didn't lose it in front of her. I had to keep my composure and focus on being there for her - for support and comfort and stability. But man it was hard.
And you see, this might not be the type of parental moment where I come out with a great lesson for parents and perhaps even for the children. This is more a parental experience, and how we become strong when we feel weak, and manage our emotions as it relates to experiences our children go to. But if I have to dig around for a lesson, here's what I'd come up with - trust.
First of all, trust things will go well. After doing the research, consulting our orthodontist and meeting with two oral surgeons, this was the right thing to do, the right time to do it, the right doctor to do it with. Second, trust your gut. Because I trusted my gut, we ended up in the hands of exactly the right doctor. At no time did my gut tell me that things wouldn't go well and because I listened to my gut and trusted it, we went through with the surgery and didn't let my overly protective tendencies procrastinate on it. And third, trust your kids. Have trust in their ability to sustain experiences and rise above them, and trust especially when they themselves know they can. We can't protect our kids from all kinds of pain; we can't live experiences, as tough as some might be, for them. So when you see that you might be a bit more nervous about them facing something than they themselves are, trust them, and don't let your protective tendencies make them feel unsure about themselves. They are sponges after all, absorbing our emotions more than anyone else's, and if we give them any indication that we don't trust them, they will second guess their own self trust; they will be crushed, not to mention what that'll do to their self confidence. So trust, trust it all, and be sure to be there for them as they trust too.
Well, what do you know? Maybe a lesson after all. There always, always is one.
So now I sit in bed, with my kids sleeping next to me (which typically means my husband is traveling), trying to go down my inventory of significant parenting moments I've had in the last few hours, and one is popping in my head.
My twelve year old daughter had oral surgery just three days ago. I don't know about you, but when I had my wisdom teeth out, I was in my mid-twenties. I had gone through junior high, and high school, and braces, and boyfriends and was already dating my now husband. So when my husband came home one day telling me that our orthodontist, who I have a lot of respect for, mentioned that he wanted my twelve year old - still in elementary school- daughter to get her wisdom teeth out, of course I called a conference with him to discuss this. Long story short, what he said made sense and we proceeded to book this surgery with one of the oral surgeon he recommended. We booked it for a month away and from the moment I did, my maternal worrying chromosome (all of us mothers have one, right?) started to do its work. I didn't think about it every day, but when I did, I felt angst. I knew it was a very straight forward procedure and when we met the oral surgeon he made me feel super at ease with it all. But still, I was not looking forward to seeing my firstborn in pain. That was really my biggest concern - not that things wouldn't go well or that she would have a hard time prior to the surgery or anything like that - I was very focused on her level of pain and how much she would swell. Perhaps this was a projection for me, since I was thinking of my own pain when I went through this some eighteen years ago. But my daughter is a tough cookie; she is brave and strong and positive, so she didn't really seem too worried until the morning of surgery. She was filled with angst then. I was putting up my best show pretending to be really relaxed. I didn't want to show or transmit my angst to her.
She went in with my husband to get her IV, anesthesia, etc. I stayed outside with my son, and good thing I did. Apparently the doctor had a hard time getting the IV going and things got a bit tense in there, almost to the point of postponing the surgery. I can be a bit impatient at times (ok, a lot), and witnessing all this poking on my daughter with a frustrated doctor would have put me over the edge. Lucky for me and my daughter, my husband balances me that way, and was extremely patient throughout this incident.
An hour later my daughter was in recovery and ready for us to come see her. The nurse came to get us and walked us to her through a different area of the clinic. So when she opened a door for us, I expected to walk through a hallway and in the direction of the room where MJ would be. Instead, right in front of me was my daughter, sitting in a recliner chair, with her mouth and eyes half opened, swollen and unable to make much sense of what was happening around her. My heart dropped the minute I saw her and I immediately had to put all my focus in making sure I didn't lose it in front of her. I had to keep my composure and focus on being there for her - for support and comfort and stability. But man it was hard.
And you see, this might not be the type of parental moment where I come out with a great lesson for parents and perhaps even for the children. This is more a parental experience, and how we become strong when we feel weak, and manage our emotions as it relates to experiences our children go to. But if I have to dig around for a lesson, here's what I'd come up with - trust.
First of all, trust things will go well. After doing the research, consulting our orthodontist and meeting with two oral surgeons, this was the right thing to do, the right time to do it, the right doctor to do it with. Second, trust your gut. Because I trusted my gut, we ended up in the hands of exactly the right doctor. At no time did my gut tell me that things wouldn't go well and because I listened to my gut and trusted it, we went through with the surgery and didn't let my overly protective tendencies procrastinate on it. And third, trust your kids. Have trust in their ability to sustain experiences and rise above them, and trust especially when they themselves know they can. We can't protect our kids from all kinds of pain; we can't live experiences, as tough as some might be, for them. So when you see that you might be a bit more nervous about them facing something than they themselves are, trust them, and don't let your protective tendencies make them feel unsure about themselves. They are sponges after all, absorbing our emotions more than anyone else's, and if we give them any indication that we don't trust them, they will second guess their own self trust; they will be crushed, not to mention what that'll do to their self confidence. So trust, trust it all, and be sure to be there for them as they trust too.
Well, what do you know? Maybe a lesson after all. There always, always is one.
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