The cool thing about getting older is truly the wisdom that comes with having had so many life experiences. It is totally true that I am wiser now than ever. And I am really liking myself so much more now than ever. Have you ever had a moment where you kind think to yourself, "I like me"? And REALLY mean it??? I've had that happen to me this week, honestly, for the first time ever in my life that I can remember.
I see my twenty-something friends struggling both financially and emotionally. Your twenties can be such a hard time--finding your way in the world; planning who you're going to be for the rest of your life and all the pressures that come with it. Younger people feel like time is their enemy and they have to do it NOW or never. And it's funny, cuz whenever I see some old geezer driving five miles an hour under the speed limit I think, "you'd think he'd go a little faster cuz his days are numbered" and when I see some young woman stressed out behind the wheel clearly speeding I think, "What's her rush?"
I have come to understand so much about life, and a lot of this understanding comes from experiencing adversity and overcoming it. That's where maturity begins. I am so impressed with my twenty-something friends--most of them are in school trying to better themselves and set up a good financial future and working full-time. Some have kids already, and yet still independent. Some still live at home with parents, but struggling to get out of their situation. I see the optimism and energy they have and it's so fun to be around them. I think they are amazing people.
I have noticed that something interesting happens to many, many people as they leave their twenties and move into their thirties. I think being in your thirties has got to be the toughest age so far. My thrity-something friends lament to me about still not being married, or rich, still stuck in a dead-end job, and wanting so much more for themselves but somehow not understanding why they don't have everything they say the desire so badly. For my married friends in their thirties, I see them struggle to "have it all"--trying to be mommy and wifey and employee and still stay thin and sexy and eat right and exercise and keep a clean house. Societies' standards for women, AND for men, ruin people and ruin relationships.
We can thank the media for screaming at us everywhere we turn. We are inundated with direct and subliminal messages that we are less than constantly. I used to think that just muting the commercials on TV was enough, but now we've got Facebook ads and pop-up ads for diet this and diet that and you can't even Google a single thing without ads prompting you to "buy this and have better skin" or "eat this not that." It's EVERYWHERE. And no matter how hard you try to eliminate the chatter from your life, it's there. Unless you unplug yourself completely and go live in a cave somewhere.
I've gotten a lot of my current wisdom courtesy of a book by an amazing man named Augusten Burroughs. It's called, "This is How--Surviving what you think you can't." It's a collection of short, personal essays (like the kind you're reading right now) about everything from losing weight to suicide. I've read it backwards and forwards and I've bought copies for two important people in my life.
And their completely different reactions to it spoke volumes to me.
The girlfriend I gave the book to had a very similar reaction to mine--lots of "aha" (also known as "lightbulb) moments. My brother?? His was, "yeah, mostly common sense."
I think that change comes when we have those lightbulb moments of clarity. You know what they are, and how they feel. The thing is, we don't always listen to them. Sometimes they annoy us and make us feel things we don't want to feel. And we have to be receptive to really hearing it.
I love my brother dearly. We have grown close thanks to texting. He lives in California with my parents and he's had a rough life. BUT I see that a lot of it comes from his choices. And I realized something he said was so interesting. His car is 20 years old, and he was lamenting that he had to take it in again and would probably cost around $1000 he didn't have to fix it. I told him, 'maybe it's time to not waste that thousand dollars and save it to buy something newer." I told him, "maybe ride your bike or get a ride from Dad and in six months you can buy something newer. " But here's what upset him--I told him, 'Don't wait for a crisis, when you're stuck by the side of the road somewhere. It's not like you can't see the demise of this car coming. It's astounding it still runs at all!" He responded by saying something to me as if I didn't understand. That it's "not easy."
I felt bad for him and didn't know what else to say, but those last two words ate at me as I thought about what Augusten Burroughs says in his book about willpower and comfort. He basically says that we don't do the things we ought to do to help ourselves because we can't stand the feeling of discomfort. Isn't it true?? We don't like to be uncomfortable and those around us don't like us making THEM feel uncomfortable either, therefore, we don't change and we don't get better.
I'll use myself as an example.
I gave up red meat over a year and a half ago. It was a spiritual decision for me that just came to me one day. It was not easy for those around me to accept. It wasn't like I'd grown a third arm or anything but you'd think I had. It WAS weird for me too. Suddenly, this 4-day a week red-meat eater wouldn't touch a hamburger or a juicy steak cooked just-the-way-I-like-it-on-the-grill. I became an inconvenience and an annoyance, even to myself. If my husband chose to cook steaks, he had to go out of his way to first buy me something else I'd eat and then cook it separately. And while my family had no choice but to get used to this new non-red-meat-eating mommy and wife, for me, it was just about the easiest thing I'd ever done.
Because it was something I WANTED.
I have never for a second complained that I can't eat my favorite soup anymore because it's made with beef broth (french onion) and I actually will ask if the pepperoni on the pizza is pork or not. I don't apologize, and I don't feel bad about it, and I don't lament "poor me". I never have. Because I know that no one is stopping me from eating red meat products--not my doctor (it's not a health issue) or my religion (I don't have one). It is now who I am. I am someone who doesn't eat red meat. The same as someone who doesn't eat octopus either--I don't like it. So what's the big deal? If every fast food restaurant served octopus burgers (maybe that's what's REALLY in those Spongebob crabby patties!!) it would be a big deal. Because people have a group mentality that red-meat burgers are American and society accepts this and supports and encourages this. If I lived in a Hindi country like Nepal, I wouldn't be the odd-man out, I'd be just as common as everyone else.
I'm happy to say that now my family is nonplussed about the whole thing. It's a non-issue. And I'm so proud my family is proud of me. My husband made my heart flutter last weekend when we were at a wine festival that seemed to serve nothing but red meat and carbs--he was worried about me because we were drinking wine and I couldn't find anything to eat. He took me by the hand and said, "C'mon honey, let's go find you something", and he was on a mission to take care of me. I was filled with gratitude and love for this gesture. Not, "You've gotta stop with this silly diet. There's plenty of food here." He didn't make fun of me; he embraced the changes I'd made and honored them.
We need to be conscious of, "who is society anyway?? It depends on where you live. Who hasn't seen the picture of the plus-size mannequins in stores in Sweden? (or is it the Netherlands?) I can't remember, but the point is--it's so unusual it the picture spread like wildfire on the Internet. Seeing it made me uncomfortable, because it reminded me how painful it is to be a girl living in a society that drums into everyone heads that being thin is the most important thing a woman can be. I wanted to move to that country when I saw that picture and I know every American woman felt the same way: understood.
How often do we sabotage our loved ones with our own discomfort?? When was the last time you made a snide remark when we heard someone say, "Not for me, I'm trying to lose weight" or "Just iced tea, I'm trying not to drink so much." We say things like, "Oh come one, what will one hurt?" or something like that. How dare we tromp on someone else's efforts to better themselves? We do it because when the people around us change, it makes US uncomfortable. If they can decline dessert or a third martini and we don't want to, we put THEM down so we don't have to feel bad about the fact that we can't, or don't want to say no ourselves. Our weaknesses are triggered. We aren't sure we really want to say no, or change, but somehow, something in us is triggered when we are confronted with a major change in someone else.
This is so interesting to me. I have become so aware of this lately. My husband told me about a guy he works with who's lost 60 pounds. He has become completely different. He told me, "He's just not really fun to be around anymore. He used to be the fun guy. Now he's so serious." And when he told his co-worker this jokingly, the co-worker agreed. He knows he's different, he knows he's not so much fun anymore, but his health was more important. His definition of "fun" has changed. Fun for him means fitting into clothes he feels good in and not worrying about dropping dead of a heart attack anymore.
When we know what we want, we go and get it. It's not a matter of "easy".
It's not a matter of willpower, Augusten Burroughs says, and he's right. He says, "If willpower is required to achieve this goal, that's how you know you don't want it enough on a deep, organic level...willpower is like holding your breath: you can only do it for so long." So true.
Think about the last time you made a significant change in yourself or your life. How about an insignificant change, like driving a different way to work? How about abiding by the speed limit signs for a change? How about reading at bedtime instead of watching TV? How about not checking your phone every 5 seconds and really listening to your spouse, kids, or friends? These are truly "easy" things to do but yes, you will likely feel discomfort. That doesn't mean you shouldn't do them. Augusten thinks that the more uncomfortable you make yourself, the closer you will get to achieving your goals. And sometimes, the discomfort is not your own--it's dealing with everyone ELSE'S discomfort.
Just food for thought folks.
Me
Me
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Moving Day
A few hours ago I gave my power-lifter son a great big hug, told him I loved him through burgeoning tears, and left him standing in his new dorm room with his new roommate. I made his little sister take our picture, and then it was Dad's turn for a hug and a pic, then little sister wanted one too. Ian obliged, uncomfortable and slightly annoyed, but I can see his dimpled smile in every single picture we took.
A few hours before this moment, we were at home, loading up our car with about eight Office Max boxes filled with all his clothes, textbooks and school supplies, toiletries, snacks, his electric guitar and amp (small one), his dart board, a small refrigerator, a cork board, a fold-up table, new sheets and pillow cases, new towels and throw pillows, and much more. He said goodbye to our pets--three cats and a dog, telling each he would miss them and gave them a pat on the head.
The hour prior to that he went to see his girlfriend of two years and say goodbye. I can only imagine how that went. She has another year of high school, and I think she probably has cried more than I have. Poor thing.
The day before, my husband and I ran around with his college dorm checklist, marking off much-needed supplies like a mini-tool kit, first aid kit, a fan, lightbulbs, snacks, area-rug, utensils, etc. He came home and showed us what he got--a disco ball and strobe light. Someone's focusing on fun. I laughed so hard.
The night before he spent with her doing fun things; they went to eat, went bowling, and came back here and watched TV, their favorite show "Fringe". Except for the fact that we knew he was going to be leaving for college in less than 24 hours, it was an uneventful day like so many summer days we've had. The night before that, it was his "last dinner at home" (I made my "famous" orange chicken: it takes 3 hours to cook and 10 minutes to devour); his "last lunch at home", that sort of countdown that was shadowed by sadness.
We've known this day was coming for like, oh, the last 18 years?! From the moment you know you are pregnant, everyone talks about "saving for college" and honestly, until it is right upon you, it as as abstract as the actual baby you will be holding after it's born. You can't really imagine it; you think you can, but you know that you really can't prepare for it. You know that when it happens, you will be okay though. There are books, there are classes, but there's nothing that REALLY prepares you for parenthood OR sending your ex-baby who's now taller than you and weighs more than you to college.
I kept hearing from the parents of adult kids all summer, "By the time it's time for him to go, you will be SO ready for him to go." I started to understand what these people meant. All summer it was his job, his girlfriend, and the gym. It was like a ferris wheel that never stopped. Coming home past 1:00 am; and the considerate texts that let me know he was "on his way" home still worried me and kept me awake. Sooner or later, fall had to arrive, and summer had to end. There's so much more for him out there in this big world than a minimum-wage job and hanging out with his friends.
Between graduating middle school Valedictorian, having taken college classes since age 16, graduating high school this past June with high honors (GPA 3.7) and all his AP classes/tests and outstanding ACT score, this kid is destined for so much more. He could've gotten into just about any college he chose; and he chose UW-Madison. He easily got in.
When the tears come, I remember the alternative: a teenager with no ambition who won't hold a job and smokes pot all day. That's where my mind goes. I am SO relieved he turned out so well. I'd like to pat myself and my husband on the proverbial back, but honestly? Ian gets all the credit. HE'S the one who worked his ass off to get where he is. I didn't do it! His dad didn't do it! HE did. He cared enough to succeed.
It's our job as parents to give our kids a great start. I hope that Ian always knows just how very loved he is; that no matter what, we are always here for him. Kids worry so much about "measuring up" and "avoiding failure", but the truth is, a good parent really doesn't have many pre-conceived notions about whom he should become. The only thing that we really worry about is drinking and drugs. I don't care what he major is. I don't care if he drops pre-med and goes into engineering. I don't have a pre-conceived idea of who my son should be. All we want it for him to live up to his POTENTIAL. A kid who's doing Calc 3 at age 16 is destined for more than a minimum wage job is my point. I don't need him to be a doctor for me, so that I can brag about him. I'm already bragging about him, because of his CHARACTER. He is the most honest kid I've ever known (next to his baby sister), and seeing him with girlfriend, he is the most loving, honest and attentive boyfriend a girl could ask for. He's a one-woman man, and is devoted to her.
As he enters his college days, of course we hope that he will open his mind to the possibility of having other relationships. As a middle-aged person, I have insight into what a 20-year marriage is really like. From our own wedding back in 1993, we've realized that more than half of the couples there that day have divorced. I told him one day this summer, "How would you know she's THEE person for you to spend the rest of your life with if you've never dated anyone else?" Of course, there are those couples out there that have met in high school (or earlier) and have truly been perfect for one another. I tell him, "You don't want to end up at 40 with a mortgage and kids and look at her and wonder what else is out there?" College is the time to do that. Not at 40.
I look back at my own college days, and they were so vastly different from Ian's. I went to a commuter school; I didn't leave home till I was 22. I regret not having realized I could've moved out and gone somewhere else. My parents didn't encourage me; I didn't have the resources to know I could've reached higher. I'm certain that's why giving Ian all the choices and opportunities is so important to me. I want him to have what I didn't. Isn't that what every parent wants?
And I know that our youngest, who just started high school today, will have an even more emotional mom as she trots off to her new college life. The young women of her generation are absolutely the luckiest generation of women ever to exist. She is unaware of gender discrimination and something we called, "the glass ceiling". Women of her generation are growing up feeling not just equal to their male peers but somewhat superior to them. There are more females vs. males attending college than ever before, and women have society's approval to "have it all." No longer does anyone look down their noses at women who maintain careers and having children. In ten years, after my daughter's graduated college and possibly getting married and having kids, her generation will have probably not only figured out how to REALLY "have it all" but feel good about herself in the process. I pray for the day when women stop feeling guilty about themselves and their choices, and the media stops making women feel that a flat stomach is really the end-all and be-all of importance.
It's so easy to be envious of my children as they go off into the big, wide world. The world is such a different place now. I know, I know, every parent says that. And every generation that is true. When we went for our son's 2-day college registration and tour, I was more excited than he was! I was ready to blink myself back to age 18 and enroll. There is SO much I want to do now that I either didn't have the resources available to me to pursue them or the courage to try. Now I have both. I am considering going back for my master's, or trying something completely different. Just because I can.
I am so excited for Ian. He truly has the world at his fingertips. In his three years of high school here in Wisconsin, he has seen friends drop out of college and pursue music; he's had friends go off to other states for college, and he's had friends die in a car accident due to drinking. He's well-aware that it's up to him to decide if he even wants to have a future or not. And what kind of future that might be?
We discussed one night what it might really be like to become a doctor. He has expressed interest in being a cardiologist. He thought out loud about the extra years of school; interning, and getting established. He said, "If I want a marriage and kids, I can't really become a cardiologist because I'd never see them." I admire the way he's processing his choices clearly; knowing himself well and what kind of life he wants after college.
Since we moved here, he has been around many kids with millionaire parents. We unwittingly moved to a very nice area where it's not unusual for his friends to jet off to Costa Rica, Punta Cana, and other exotic places "every spring break." We stay home and get extra sleep.
Ian has worked the last two years at Qdoba, a yummy Mexican restaurant that is like a Subway but Mexican food. He's got a great work ethic--always on time, never called in sick, worked for others when they asked him. He knows that if he doesn't succeed in college, it will be Qdoba metaphorically for the rest of his life. He wants more for himself than a minimum-waged job, and with that kids' smarts, he can reach for higher. As parents, our job is to transfer that belief in our kid, to our kids believing in themselves. If they don't think they can do it, they won't try. It doesn't matter if we know they can do it; they need to believe that if they try, they can succeed.
We remind him that who he hangs out with will determine which path he takes. And one thing I'm SO excited about is his college. At registration, they explained their emphasis on philanthropy. I have met some amazing students every single time we've been there. There is so much social support for the students; they go the extra effort to make sure they are paid attention to. It's not a matter of, "that's your kid, why should WE worry about them?" but rather, "While they're students here, we will parent them for you as much as possible." And I swear, they have. There is a student center if he gets sick. Everything's covered with the cost of tuition. There are student leaders in the dorms that we met yesterday that were friendly and attentive, and they continue to look out for our kid (and yours) every day. They were riding up and down in the elevators, seeing to it that our needs were met--that we knew where his room was and did we need any help carrying anything? The social support is tremendous. I felt like hugging every single red-T-shirted student leader I saw.
I'm so relieved Ian doesn't have his car. Freshmen aren't allowed cars. He lives in a dorm with another really great kid we got to meet (and his mom) and I'm sure they'll lean on each other as they both find their way. It made my heart bounce when Ian leaned into another dorm room on the way to his and said hello to another student he recognized from his high school! And guess what--this kid had a disco ball too! He and his roommate had everything all set up and it looked like they were having a blast. I SO wanted to be 18 again and do it all differently. I knew at that moment, Ian's going to be just fine.
We know kids always worry that no one will like them; that they'll have to eat lunch alone and that they're unlikeable. Of course we know our Ian won't have that problem, who wouldn't like him?? But that's something that even as grown-ups we worry about when we start a new job. Who will eat lunch with us? Will anybody like me? He told me he wasn't worried about academics. He knows he'll do well in his classes; it's "fitting in" he worries about. Of course we reassure him; it's just a matter of getting rid of us, the parents, and letting him find his way.
We giggle that he's never had to share a room with anyone. Now he's sleeping in a bunkbed that's more like a prison cot. I know he will miss so many things about home; and when he does make the trip home I will get to spoil him again. Being a good a parent means giving your kids the tools they need to succeed beyond your grasp. It is so hard letting go, but like I said earlier, it sure beats the alternative, a grown child still living at home past the teen years. We really need to let them find themselves out of our line of sight. There comes a time when we really don't need to know everything they think and do.
I think that it starts when they're very young. You see these parents who are afraid to let their kids spend the night at friends' houses or try certain sports. They are overprotective and honestly, the message they're sending their kids is that the world is a scary place. They send messages to their kids that they can't trust themselves to make the right choices and overprotecting, in my opinion, just leads to kids feeling bad about themselves. It's so hard being a parent; keeping them safe and letting them explore their world at the same time.
No parent is perfect, and all our choices must come from love and honesty. When I stumble, and I do often, I'm the parent that says, "I'm sorry." We can't pretend we know everything just because we're older and we've "been there." Our kids aren't us. The world they're living in is different than the world we grew up in and we have much to learn from them.
As my former 8-pound-13 ouncer goes out into the big, wide world, I cry tears of joy for eighteen and half years so far being his mom. He's made me a better person just by being himself. I cry for all the fun we had; for being there every single day for him, and I thank God he was born healthy and has made it this far given he's got an emotional nut for a mom. I cry tears of worry since I can't control things anymore, and all I can do is pray God keeps him safe and he makes good choices. I see my big, powerlifter son with his enormous biceps and piercing blue eyes, and just love him with all my heart. That's what I'm good at.
And so now our daughter is a stunning almost 14-year-old, and entering high school. I have four years of doting on her and preparing her for that moment when it will be HER packing for college. Helping her brother move into his dorm yesterday will leave an indelible mark on her psyche for when it will be her turn. She got to see that he will be all right; that he can be happy and sad at the same time. She got to see her parents cry and be happy for him, and see us let go and trust. I think she knows that we have communicated our belief in him by giving him the space and opportunity to find his passion and not dictate it for him. He's made all the right choices up to this point; we've just guided him and gave him the financial backing.
Ah, the empty nest. It's not empty yet, but his room is nearly empty, since he took most of it with him. It's painful to see, and I think I'll be avoiding the downstairs basement because of it. But he's only an hour away and I thank God that he chose a college so close. I can't even imagine if he had stayed with his original choice, UCLA. I'm so glad he's so close. Close enough if he needs me, and far enough away to find himself.
But you just know that there are more orange chicken dinners coming for those weekends he comes home with his stack of laundry.
I can't wait!!!!
A few hours before this moment, we were at home, loading up our car with about eight Office Max boxes filled with all his clothes, textbooks and school supplies, toiletries, snacks, his electric guitar and amp (small one), his dart board, a small refrigerator, a cork board, a fold-up table, new sheets and pillow cases, new towels and throw pillows, and much more. He said goodbye to our pets--three cats and a dog, telling each he would miss them and gave them a pat on the head.
The hour prior to that he went to see his girlfriend of two years and say goodbye. I can only imagine how that went. She has another year of high school, and I think she probably has cried more than I have. Poor thing.
The day before, my husband and I ran around with his college dorm checklist, marking off much-needed supplies like a mini-tool kit, first aid kit, a fan, lightbulbs, snacks, area-rug, utensils, etc. He came home and showed us what he got--a disco ball and strobe light. Someone's focusing on fun. I laughed so hard.
The night before he spent with her doing fun things; they went to eat, went bowling, and came back here and watched TV, their favorite show "Fringe". Except for the fact that we knew he was going to be leaving for college in less than 24 hours, it was an uneventful day like so many summer days we've had. The night before that, it was his "last dinner at home" (I made my "famous" orange chicken: it takes 3 hours to cook and 10 minutes to devour); his "last lunch at home", that sort of countdown that was shadowed by sadness.
We've known this day was coming for like, oh, the last 18 years?! From the moment you know you are pregnant, everyone talks about "saving for college" and honestly, until it is right upon you, it as as abstract as the actual baby you will be holding after it's born. You can't really imagine it; you think you can, but you know that you really can't prepare for it. You know that when it happens, you will be okay though. There are books, there are classes, but there's nothing that REALLY prepares you for parenthood OR sending your ex-baby who's now taller than you and weighs more than you to college.
I kept hearing from the parents of adult kids all summer, "By the time it's time for him to go, you will be SO ready for him to go." I started to understand what these people meant. All summer it was his job, his girlfriend, and the gym. It was like a ferris wheel that never stopped. Coming home past 1:00 am; and the considerate texts that let me know he was "on his way" home still worried me and kept me awake. Sooner or later, fall had to arrive, and summer had to end. There's so much more for him out there in this big world than a minimum-wage job and hanging out with his friends.
Between graduating middle school Valedictorian, having taken college classes since age 16, graduating high school this past June with high honors (GPA 3.7) and all his AP classes/tests and outstanding ACT score, this kid is destined for so much more. He could've gotten into just about any college he chose; and he chose UW-Madison. He easily got in.
When the tears come, I remember the alternative: a teenager with no ambition who won't hold a job and smokes pot all day. That's where my mind goes. I am SO relieved he turned out so well. I'd like to pat myself and my husband on the proverbial back, but honestly? Ian gets all the credit. HE'S the one who worked his ass off to get where he is. I didn't do it! His dad didn't do it! HE did. He cared enough to succeed.
It's our job as parents to give our kids a great start. I hope that Ian always knows just how very loved he is; that no matter what, we are always here for him. Kids worry so much about "measuring up" and "avoiding failure", but the truth is, a good parent really doesn't have many pre-conceived notions about whom he should become. The only thing that we really worry about is drinking and drugs. I don't care what he major is. I don't care if he drops pre-med and goes into engineering. I don't have a pre-conceived idea of who my son should be. All we want it for him to live up to his POTENTIAL. A kid who's doing Calc 3 at age 16 is destined for more than a minimum wage job is my point. I don't need him to be a doctor for me, so that I can brag about him. I'm already bragging about him, because of his CHARACTER. He is the most honest kid I've ever known (next to his baby sister), and seeing him with girlfriend, he is the most loving, honest and attentive boyfriend a girl could ask for. He's a one-woman man, and is devoted to her.
As he enters his college days, of course we hope that he will open his mind to the possibility of having other relationships. As a middle-aged person, I have insight into what a 20-year marriage is really like. From our own wedding back in 1993, we've realized that more than half of the couples there that day have divorced. I told him one day this summer, "How would you know she's THEE person for you to spend the rest of your life with if you've never dated anyone else?" Of course, there are those couples out there that have met in high school (or earlier) and have truly been perfect for one another. I tell him, "You don't want to end up at 40 with a mortgage and kids and look at her and wonder what else is out there?" College is the time to do that. Not at 40.
I look back at my own college days, and they were so vastly different from Ian's. I went to a commuter school; I didn't leave home till I was 22. I regret not having realized I could've moved out and gone somewhere else. My parents didn't encourage me; I didn't have the resources to know I could've reached higher. I'm certain that's why giving Ian all the choices and opportunities is so important to me. I want him to have what I didn't. Isn't that what every parent wants?
And I know that our youngest, who just started high school today, will have an even more emotional mom as she trots off to her new college life. The young women of her generation are absolutely the luckiest generation of women ever to exist. She is unaware of gender discrimination and something we called, "the glass ceiling". Women of her generation are growing up feeling not just equal to their male peers but somewhat superior to them. There are more females vs. males attending college than ever before, and women have society's approval to "have it all." No longer does anyone look down their noses at women who maintain careers and having children. In ten years, after my daughter's graduated college and possibly getting married and having kids, her generation will have probably not only figured out how to REALLY "have it all" but feel good about herself in the process. I pray for the day when women stop feeling guilty about themselves and their choices, and the media stops making women feel that a flat stomach is really the end-all and be-all of importance.
It's so easy to be envious of my children as they go off into the big, wide world. The world is such a different place now. I know, I know, every parent says that. And every generation that is true. When we went for our son's 2-day college registration and tour, I was more excited than he was! I was ready to blink myself back to age 18 and enroll. There is SO much I want to do now that I either didn't have the resources available to me to pursue them or the courage to try. Now I have both. I am considering going back for my master's, or trying something completely different. Just because I can.
I am so excited for Ian. He truly has the world at his fingertips. In his three years of high school here in Wisconsin, he has seen friends drop out of college and pursue music; he's had friends go off to other states for college, and he's had friends die in a car accident due to drinking. He's well-aware that it's up to him to decide if he even wants to have a future or not. And what kind of future that might be?
We discussed one night what it might really be like to become a doctor. He has expressed interest in being a cardiologist. He thought out loud about the extra years of school; interning, and getting established. He said, "If I want a marriage and kids, I can't really become a cardiologist because I'd never see them." I admire the way he's processing his choices clearly; knowing himself well and what kind of life he wants after college.
Since we moved here, he has been around many kids with millionaire parents. We unwittingly moved to a very nice area where it's not unusual for his friends to jet off to Costa Rica, Punta Cana, and other exotic places "every spring break." We stay home and get extra sleep.
Ian has worked the last two years at Qdoba, a yummy Mexican restaurant that is like a Subway but Mexican food. He's got a great work ethic--always on time, never called in sick, worked for others when they asked him. He knows that if he doesn't succeed in college, it will be Qdoba metaphorically for the rest of his life. He wants more for himself than a minimum-waged job, and with that kids' smarts, he can reach for higher. As parents, our job is to transfer that belief in our kid, to our kids believing in themselves. If they don't think they can do it, they won't try. It doesn't matter if we know they can do it; they need to believe that if they try, they can succeed.
We remind him that who he hangs out with will determine which path he takes. And one thing I'm SO excited about is his college. At registration, they explained their emphasis on philanthropy. I have met some amazing students every single time we've been there. There is so much social support for the students; they go the extra effort to make sure they are paid attention to. It's not a matter of, "that's your kid, why should WE worry about them?" but rather, "While they're students here, we will parent them for you as much as possible." And I swear, they have. There is a student center if he gets sick. Everything's covered with the cost of tuition. There are student leaders in the dorms that we met yesterday that were friendly and attentive, and they continue to look out for our kid (and yours) every day. They were riding up and down in the elevators, seeing to it that our needs were met--that we knew where his room was and did we need any help carrying anything? The social support is tremendous. I felt like hugging every single red-T-shirted student leader I saw.
I'm so relieved Ian doesn't have his car. Freshmen aren't allowed cars. He lives in a dorm with another really great kid we got to meet (and his mom) and I'm sure they'll lean on each other as they both find their way. It made my heart bounce when Ian leaned into another dorm room on the way to his and said hello to another student he recognized from his high school! And guess what--this kid had a disco ball too! He and his roommate had everything all set up and it looked like they were having a blast. I SO wanted to be 18 again and do it all differently. I knew at that moment, Ian's going to be just fine.
We know kids always worry that no one will like them; that they'll have to eat lunch alone and that they're unlikeable. Of course we know our Ian won't have that problem, who wouldn't like him?? But that's something that even as grown-ups we worry about when we start a new job. Who will eat lunch with us? Will anybody like me? He told me he wasn't worried about academics. He knows he'll do well in his classes; it's "fitting in" he worries about. Of course we reassure him; it's just a matter of getting rid of us, the parents, and letting him find his way.
We giggle that he's never had to share a room with anyone. Now he's sleeping in a bunkbed that's more like a prison cot. I know he will miss so many things about home; and when he does make the trip home I will get to spoil him again. Being a good a parent means giving your kids the tools they need to succeed beyond your grasp. It is so hard letting go, but like I said earlier, it sure beats the alternative, a grown child still living at home past the teen years. We really need to let them find themselves out of our line of sight. There comes a time when we really don't need to know everything they think and do.
I think that it starts when they're very young. You see these parents who are afraid to let their kids spend the night at friends' houses or try certain sports. They are overprotective and honestly, the message they're sending their kids is that the world is a scary place. They send messages to their kids that they can't trust themselves to make the right choices and overprotecting, in my opinion, just leads to kids feeling bad about themselves. It's so hard being a parent; keeping them safe and letting them explore their world at the same time.
No parent is perfect, and all our choices must come from love and honesty. When I stumble, and I do often, I'm the parent that says, "I'm sorry." We can't pretend we know everything just because we're older and we've "been there." Our kids aren't us. The world they're living in is different than the world we grew up in and we have much to learn from them.
As my former 8-pound-13 ouncer goes out into the big, wide world, I cry tears of joy for eighteen and half years so far being his mom. He's made me a better person just by being himself. I cry for all the fun we had; for being there every single day for him, and I thank God he was born healthy and has made it this far given he's got an emotional nut for a mom. I cry tears of worry since I can't control things anymore, and all I can do is pray God keeps him safe and he makes good choices. I see my big, powerlifter son with his enormous biceps and piercing blue eyes, and just love him with all my heart. That's what I'm good at.
And so now our daughter is a stunning almost 14-year-old, and entering high school. I have four years of doting on her and preparing her for that moment when it will be HER packing for college. Helping her brother move into his dorm yesterday will leave an indelible mark on her psyche for when it will be her turn. She got to see that he will be all right; that he can be happy and sad at the same time. She got to see her parents cry and be happy for him, and see us let go and trust. I think she knows that we have communicated our belief in him by giving him the space and opportunity to find his passion and not dictate it for him. He's made all the right choices up to this point; we've just guided him and gave him the financial backing.
Ah, the empty nest. It's not empty yet, but his room is nearly empty, since he took most of it with him. It's painful to see, and I think I'll be avoiding the downstairs basement because of it. But he's only an hour away and I thank God that he chose a college so close. I can't even imagine if he had stayed with his original choice, UCLA. I'm so glad he's so close. Close enough if he needs me, and far enough away to find himself.
But you just know that there are more orange chicken dinners coming for those weekends he comes home with his stack of laundry.
I can't wait!!!!
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Proof That I'm Insane
A miracle happened today. It's only December 14th, and I mailed my Christmas cards today! I dropped them into the box outside the post office at approximately 8:57 a.m. this morning after dropping my daughter off at school. How is this a miracle, you may be wondering??
I love the ritual of Christmas cards. Ever since I was a kid; my parents used to get tons of Christmas cards every year when my dad still worked for the Herald Examiner. Back then, cards were more glamourous than they are today. They were mini works of art; beautiful Christmas landscapes filled with snow, beautifully decorated homes, all resounding with the peace and love of home and family. My mom would tape each one up just tilted every-so-slightly, equi-distant apart from one another, displayed on the coat closet door--in the living room--the first place you'd see it when you entered the room. I wasn't big enough to reach the top cards, but from my small stature I'd revel in the beauty of them as they glimmered in the light. I didn't recognize any of the names of course; I had no idea who any of these people were that were sending all these beautiful cards. I wanted to meet them. They were secret, magical mystical people my dad worked with at his secret, magical, mystical desk in some building somewhere in Los Angeles. It was all very exciting to a small child like me.
Is it any wonder I am just like my mother now with the whole Christmas card business?? I have taken over where she's left off. My parents have been retired for some time; the lovely Christmas cards they used to receive trickled off when my dad was laid off in 1975. In her hurt and dismay, my mother retorted that if they had been "real friends" the cards would still be coming. I didn't know what to do with that.
So here I am, many many years later, stressing myself out trying to get my Christmas cards out before they should actually say, "Happy Easter". It's all self-induced. I know that. I can't help myself.
I used to do individual Christmas cards, you know, the boxed kind. I felt that a person's choice of a Christmas card said a lot about them, so I took great pains to choose boxed cards that reflected my personality, or rather, our personality as a family. I didn't really care for the religious ones or the Norman Rockwell artsy kind but rather the humorous ones, poking fun at either Santa or his reindeer--you know, the kind you love to get. A card that makes you laugh. That's me. I usually bought them around Thanksgiving, eager to get started. I'd usually do the envelopes first; the boring part. Then, one by one, I'd not only write "Love and God Bless, the Kuckelman's", but I'd write a mini-biography of our year in each one. We have moved so many times, and we have family and friends strewn all over the globe, and honestly, the only communication we have with some of them is the annual Christmas card tradition. Of course I was so worried I'd turn into one of those braggy moms and yes, I admit, I am. Hey, it comes with being a parent, and I'm so lucky to say I've got the kind of kids worth bragging about. Not every parent can say that. But the newsletter is only the beginning.
Don't forget the most important missing ingredient--the ultimate Christmas family photo.
We had a ritual for about ten years, since the year Ian was born, to have a professional sitting once a year. I'd happily schedule it for the Saturday BEFORE Thanksgiving, before the onslaught. I was so proud of myself. My husband would sulk and my toddlers would throw tantrums and I'd ignore their pleas for mercy and trudge us all into the photo studio year after year. I told them, "you'll thank me someday." (still waiting). But the year we stopped was the year the photos turned out absolutely frightening--I think they started hiring unqualified temporary workers for the holidays and I was mortified. I refused to pay for them and gave them back; bawling, I instructed them to just throw them in the trash. I resisted telling them what I REALLY thought of their skills as photographers.
So it became my duty to take our OWN perfect Christmas family photo every year! This was the beginning of the digital age, and it honestly couldn't have been more perfect timing. Instead of an expensive and angry family outing, we had an inexpensive and angry family afternoon trying to capture a harmonious photo of the four of us here at home. Last year was my favorite. Having just moved to Wisconsin from a lifetime of sunny California, I fantasized about a photo of the four of us standing by snowman we'd made ourselves. The snow obliged, but no one told me that Wisconsin snow is too soft to make into snowballs let alone snowmen. All dressed up for the picture and freezing in the frigid air, we were exhausted and my family was beyond annoyed with me. I settled for a pic of the four of us standing in our backyard, snow up to our ankles, taken by a little friend of my daughter's. It was dusk, and we ended up looking more of a silhouette. You couldn't really see our faces, no matter how hard I tried to Photoshop it. It was exasperating. Once again, self-induced. I realize this.
Doing this was so tedious, my Christmas cards never went out before Christmas Eve. It just took too damn long. Between hand-writing each and every card and the pursuit of the perfect Norman Rockwell family photo, I got wise. Not only did I start writing a newsletter about 5 years ago, this year I didn't require my family to get together for a photo. Yes, it's been sad, sad defeat for me; we can't get all four of us together for even one picture a year. This year I decided I'd scroll through all the pictures on my computer from the year and find of of the four of us and use it, like many people do. We didn't take any vacations, so none there. I was saddened to realize there was not ONE photo of all four of us taken the entire year!!! So what the hell was I going to do?!!?! MAKE A PHOTO COLLAGE, THAT'S WHAT!!!!!
There were so many good pics to choose from, I actually made 2 collages. My husband shrieked at my insanity. "You can't send out two sheets of pictures!" he scolded me. "But I can't decide which ones to delete!" I shrieked back at him. I sighed a big huge sigh, and realized that if I made the pics really small I could fit them all on one sheet!! I was so happy!! Hahaha WINNING!!!!!!!
But my perfect plan hit a snag. I had all the envelopes made out in red Sharpie (festive yes?), actual Christmas stamps (some Hanukkah ones for the Jews in my family. Perfectionist here!), custom Christmas family address labels with our likeness (leftover from last year, thankfully we didn't move again), and cute little stickers on the backs of the envelopes. I sought and sought for the perfect newsletter paper to print them on--40 sheets for about $10. I STUPIDLY BOUGHT EXACTLY THE AMOUNT THAT I THOUGHT I'D NEED. And lo and behold, wouldn't you know, after printing 20 perfect copies, the ink started to run out and ruined about 20 of the remaining sheets I had. I was distraught of course. Ruined!!! What was I to do?? I didn't have time to go all the way back to Office Max and buy more paper and with my luck, they'd be out of them anyway. So.....I looked and looked online for free borders for paper to make my own. Sure, they'll be different from the rest I'd already printed out, but I was okay with that. As long as they were festive. No boring plain paper for this girl!!! Well guess what?? There weren't any free ones. I am too cheap to even pay a dollar. And now it's December 13th. What was I willing to do?? Time is running out. I want to get these f***ing Christmas cards mailed NOW!!!!!!!
As I drove my daughter to school, went to the gym, and thought about the newsletters that still needed to be printed on my fantasy perfectly festive paper that was expensive and unattainable, I decided to make peace with PLAIN OLD WHITE PAPER. Yes, the bane of my existence--the proof that a person has absolutely NO imagination whatsoever---plain, old, boring, white printer paper.
I've made peace with myself over this. I think about the time and money I've saved, and I've made the best of a bad situation. Even though I was armed with enough replacement ink cartridges to furnish my daughter's school to avoid precisely what ended up happening because I got distracted. The ink ran out, and sparsely inked hieiogyphic ruined Christmas newsletter paper. I relented and used plain old boring white paper for the 25 or so newsletters left just to get them done. I stand accused, tried, and convicted. I sobbed quietly while folding them with my perfect collage into my perfectly addressed envelopes. I just somehow feel like I've let them down.
I gave myself a cheerful little pep-talk about how happy my friends and family will be to receive my newsletter and photo collage, and probably won't even notice the paper isn't Christmas-y. I know, I know, many of you will open the envelope and shriek, "HER NEWSLETTER IS ON PLAIN, OLD, BORING WHITE PAPER! DOESN'T SHE HAVE ANY IMAGINATION AT ALL?? JEEZ!!' And yes, I have to live with that.
And some of you won't even get one. In the move here, I can't find my Official Christmas Card Address List. I'm sorry. I really am. I hope you'll still send me a card so I can send you one back. There's still time!!
Those of you that got the Christmas-y newsletter paper know that you got the best I had to offer. The rest of you, my condolences. I hope you can see past this omission of character and forgive me.
At least I can brag that you got it before Easter.
I love the ritual of Christmas cards. Ever since I was a kid; my parents used to get tons of Christmas cards every year when my dad still worked for the Herald Examiner. Back then, cards were more glamourous than they are today. They were mini works of art; beautiful Christmas landscapes filled with snow, beautifully decorated homes, all resounding with the peace and love of home and family. My mom would tape each one up just tilted every-so-slightly, equi-distant apart from one another, displayed on the coat closet door--in the living room--the first place you'd see it when you entered the room. I wasn't big enough to reach the top cards, but from my small stature I'd revel in the beauty of them as they glimmered in the light. I didn't recognize any of the names of course; I had no idea who any of these people were that were sending all these beautiful cards. I wanted to meet them. They were secret, magical mystical people my dad worked with at his secret, magical, mystical desk in some building somewhere in Los Angeles. It was all very exciting to a small child like me.
Is it any wonder I am just like my mother now with the whole Christmas card business?? I have taken over where she's left off. My parents have been retired for some time; the lovely Christmas cards they used to receive trickled off when my dad was laid off in 1975. In her hurt and dismay, my mother retorted that if they had been "real friends" the cards would still be coming. I didn't know what to do with that.
So here I am, many many years later, stressing myself out trying to get my Christmas cards out before they should actually say, "Happy Easter". It's all self-induced. I know that. I can't help myself.
I used to do individual Christmas cards, you know, the boxed kind. I felt that a person's choice of a Christmas card said a lot about them, so I took great pains to choose boxed cards that reflected my personality, or rather, our personality as a family. I didn't really care for the religious ones or the Norman Rockwell artsy kind but rather the humorous ones, poking fun at either Santa or his reindeer--you know, the kind you love to get. A card that makes you laugh. That's me. I usually bought them around Thanksgiving, eager to get started. I'd usually do the envelopes first; the boring part. Then, one by one, I'd not only write "Love and God Bless, the Kuckelman's", but I'd write a mini-biography of our year in each one. We have moved so many times, and we have family and friends strewn all over the globe, and honestly, the only communication we have with some of them is the annual Christmas card tradition. Of course I was so worried I'd turn into one of those braggy moms and yes, I admit, I am. Hey, it comes with being a parent, and I'm so lucky to say I've got the kind of kids worth bragging about. Not every parent can say that. But the newsletter is only the beginning.
We had a ritual for about ten years, since the year Ian was born, to have a professional sitting once a year. I'd happily schedule it for the Saturday BEFORE Thanksgiving, before the onslaught. I was so proud of myself. My husband would sulk and my toddlers would throw tantrums and I'd ignore their pleas for mercy and trudge us all into the photo studio year after year. I told them, "you'll thank me someday." (still waiting). But the year we stopped was the year the photos turned out absolutely frightening--I think they started hiring unqualified temporary workers for the holidays and I was mortified. I refused to pay for them and gave them back; bawling, I instructed them to just throw them in the trash. I resisted telling them what I REALLY thought of their skills as photographers.
So it became my duty to take our OWN perfect Christmas family photo every year! This was the beginning of the digital age, and it honestly couldn't have been more perfect timing. Instead of an expensive and angry family outing, we had an inexpensive and angry family afternoon trying to capture a harmonious photo of the four of us here at home. Last year was my favorite. Having just moved to Wisconsin from a lifetime of sunny California, I fantasized about a photo of the four of us standing by snowman we'd made ourselves. The snow obliged, but no one told me that Wisconsin snow is too soft to make into snowballs let alone snowmen. All dressed up for the picture and freezing in the frigid air, we were exhausted and my family was beyond annoyed with me. I settled for a pic of the four of us standing in our backyard, snow up to our ankles, taken by a little friend of my daughter's. It was dusk, and we ended up looking more of a silhouette. You couldn't really see our faces, no matter how hard I tried to Photoshop it. It was exasperating. Once again, self-induced. I realize this.
Doing this was so tedious, my Christmas cards never went out before Christmas Eve. It just took too damn long. Between hand-writing each and every card and the pursuit of the perfect Norman Rockwell family photo, I got wise. Not only did I start writing a newsletter about 5 years ago, this year I didn't require my family to get together for a photo. Yes, it's been sad, sad defeat for me; we can't get all four of us together for even one picture a year. This year I decided I'd scroll through all the pictures on my computer from the year and find of of the four of us and use it, like many people do. We didn't take any vacations, so none there. I was saddened to realize there was not ONE photo of all four of us taken the entire year!!! So what the hell was I going to do?!!?! MAKE A PHOTO COLLAGE, THAT'S WHAT!!!!!
There were so many good pics to choose from, I actually made 2 collages. My husband shrieked at my insanity. "You can't send out two sheets of pictures!" he scolded me. "But I can't decide which ones to delete!" I shrieked back at him. I sighed a big huge sigh, and realized that if I made the pics really small I could fit them all on one sheet!! I was so happy!! Hahaha WINNING!!!!!!!
But my perfect plan hit a snag. I had all the envelopes made out in red Sharpie (festive yes?), actual Christmas stamps (some Hanukkah ones for the Jews in my family. Perfectionist here!), custom Christmas family address labels with our likeness (leftover from last year, thankfully we didn't move again), and cute little stickers on the backs of the envelopes. I sought and sought for the perfect newsletter paper to print them on--40 sheets for about $10. I STUPIDLY BOUGHT EXACTLY THE AMOUNT THAT I THOUGHT I'D NEED. And lo and behold, wouldn't you know, after printing 20 perfect copies, the ink started to run out and ruined about 20 of the remaining sheets I had. I was distraught of course. Ruined!!! What was I to do?? I didn't have time to go all the way back to Office Max and buy more paper and with my luck, they'd be out of them anyway. So.....I looked and looked online for free borders for paper to make my own. Sure, they'll be different from the rest I'd already printed out, but I was okay with that. As long as they were festive. No boring plain paper for this girl!!! Well guess what?? There weren't any free ones. I am too cheap to even pay a dollar. And now it's December 13th. What was I willing to do?? Time is running out. I want to get these f***ing Christmas cards mailed NOW!!!!!!!
As I drove my daughter to school, went to the gym, and thought about the newsletters that still needed to be printed on my fantasy perfectly festive paper that was expensive and unattainable, I decided to make peace with PLAIN OLD WHITE PAPER. Yes, the bane of my existence--the proof that a person has absolutely NO imagination whatsoever---plain, old, boring, white printer paper.
I've made peace with myself over this. I think about the time and money I've saved, and I've made the best of a bad situation. Even though I was armed with enough replacement ink cartridges to furnish my daughter's school to avoid precisely what ended up happening because I got distracted. The ink ran out, and sparsely inked hieiogyphic ruined Christmas newsletter paper. I relented and used plain old boring white paper for the 25 or so newsletters left just to get them done. I stand accused, tried, and convicted. I sobbed quietly while folding them with my perfect collage into my perfectly addressed envelopes. I just somehow feel like I've let them down.
I gave myself a cheerful little pep-talk about how happy my friends and family will be to receive my newsletter and photo collage, and probably won't even notice the paper isn't Christmas-y. I know, I know, many of you will open the envelope and shriek, "HER NEWSLETTER IS ON PLAIN, OLD, BORING WHITE PAPER! DOESN'T SHE HAVE ANY IMAGINATION AT ALL?? JEEZ!!' And yes, I have to live with that.
And some of you won't even get one. In the move here, I can't find my Official Christmas Card Address List. I'm sorry. I really am. I hope you'll still send me a card so I can send you one back. There's still time!!
Those of you that got the Christmas-y newsletter paper know that you got the best I had to offer. The rest of you, my condolences. I hope you can see past this omission of character and forgive me.
At least I can brag that you got it before Easter.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Dr. Laura Goes Off the Deep End With Marriage Charade Advice
Talk Radio has always been a love-hate thing with me. I go through phases where I get fixated on a particular talk-show host and listen, listen, listen, every time I get in the car. Then I'll hear something on their show that will get me SO disgusted I stop listening and go back to channel-switching again. I just heard something on Dr. Laura's show that angered me SO much I am done with her. Forever. Well, OK, until I get sick of someone else's show and decide to go back and listen to her again.
If you've never heard of Dr. Laura or her radio show, let me sum her up in one word---ZEALOUS. She is extremely opinionated and is pro-life, anti-feminist, and does not believe in divorce (and she's not even Catholic). She's a big believer that divorce is bad for kids, but this really crosses the line.
So this guy calls in today, says he's been married for 16 years, the last eight with the knowledge that his wife cheats on him regularly. They made a deal when he first found out about her infidelity 8 years ago that they'd stay together for the sake of their son, then 8 years old. They'd "co-parent", so he wouldn't have to be the child of a divorce. This got a huge round of "atta-boys" from Dr. Laura.
The man was calling because although this arrangement has "worked well", the son is now 13 and asking a lot of questions. He presented Dad with his suspicions that Mom is cheating on him, to which Dad lied and answered with some sort of gibberish about, "well, things aren't always as they seem", yadda yadda yadda. I guess Mom has a boyfriend she met on the Internet, and has regular trips across the country to go see him. Dad's question for Dr. Laura is, do you think I should encourage her to stay another 5 years till the son is 18 so they can finally divorce then? YES, she answers, all-too-quickly. They PRAY she will play along. As I'm panting with rage, I can hear Dad nodding his head, feeling very smug, as he tells the listening audience, "to all you out there listening, I wouldn't have chosen any other solution." He's Dad the Martyr, out to save his son from........what exactly?????
I'm floored. I know Dr. Laura's a kook but that's why she's fun to listen to. Occasionally I agree with her, but give me a break here!!! Dr. Laura applauds all this in the name of marriage???? Let me get the facts straight. Dad can't stand Mom. She's been sleeping with other men (dangerous men too, Dad says). They have put on a charade for 8 years to their son that they are happily married?? Where's the affection?? What are they teaching their son?? He's obviously not stupid here. He already gets that something's amiss. I can't imagine what dinnertime in their household is like. The man sounds like he's about to go "postal" at any minute, he's got so much pent-up anger at his wife.
Tim and I are always cuddling on the couch, he kisses me hello after he comes home from work, we go out on dates every now and then. We are best friends. We share parenting duties with laughter, affeciton, and love. Our kids see that we have a REAL marriage, not a hostile "pretend" marriage like this guy and his "wife". Does Dr. Laura really think that living an honest life separately is really soooo bad for this 13 year old boy that the parents have to put on a charade in front of him? Come on!! I'm insulted for this boy. Seriously. He is figuring it out and will have no respect for either of his parents as the truth WILL come out.
I really really really don't get how this could be in any way good for the son. He's learning #1) His parents are liars and cannot be trusted. #2) Marriage is about martyring yourself. It is not the union of two people who've joined together to love, trust and honor one another. Where's the friendship? Where's the affection? Is there any laughter in this household? What a joke. (pun not intended)
We all know divorce is hard on kids. We all know that no one marries thinking they'll get divorced. But sometimes it's in EVERYONE'S best interest to do so. If they divorced, both Mom and Dad could live a more honest life, heal from the pain they've inflicted on one another, and maybe find new spouses that would enhance their son's life as well. I know lots of step-moms and step-dads that are every bit as loving and caring as the biological parent, some more so. How can this not be considered an option?
This son would benefit from not being lied to, as if HE's the one who's crazy, seeing things as they really are and being told it's not true. Then finding out later, that he was right all along. The son will also be free of being manipulated by the two people he trusts most--his parents. If the father really loves his son, he'll tell him the truth, and teach him that a man deserves to be loved and treated with respect and dignity. Why would anyone put up with the nonsense this "wife" is doing to this family? How dare the husband/Dad inflict such dishonesty on the sacred home of this child? I'm furious. Absolutely blood-boiling mad. But the worst part is---Dr. Laura is applauding it!!
Dr. Laura has said in the past that the best gift a husband can give his children is simply, love their mother. This is not love. This is pathetic.
Readers? What do YOU think?
If you've never heard of Dr. Laura or her radio show, let me sum her up in one word---ZEALOUS. She is extremely opinionated and is pro-life, anti-feminist, and does not believe in divorce (and she's not even Catholic). She's a big believer that divorce is bad for kids, but this really crosses the line.
So this guy calls in today, says he's been married for 16 years, the last eight with the knowledge that his wife cheats on him regularly. They made a deal when he first found out about her infidelity 8 years ago that they'd stay together for the sake of their son, then 8 years old. They'd "co-parent", so he wouldn't have to be the child of a divorce. This got a huge round of "atta-boys" from Dr. Laura.
The man was calling because although this arrangement has "worked well", the son is now 13 and asking a lot of questions. He presented Dad with his suspicions that Mom is cheating on him, to which Dad lied and answered with some sort of gibberish about, "well, things aren't always as they seem", yadda yadda yadda. I guess Mom has a boyfriend she met on the Internet, and has regular trips across the country to go see him. Dad's question for Dr. Laura is, do you think I should encourage her to stay another 5 years till the son is 18 so they can finally divorce then? YES, she answers, all-too-quickly. They PRAY she will play along. As I'm panting with rage, I can hear Dad nodding his head, feeling very smug, as he tells the listening audience, "to all you out there listening, I wouldn't have chosen any other solution." He's Dad the Martyr, out to save his son from........what exactly?????
I'm floored. I know Dr. Laura's a kook but that's why she's fun to listen to. Occasionally I agree with her, but give me a break here!!! Dr. Laura applauds all this in the name of marriage???? Let me get the facts straight. Dad can't stand Mom. She's been sleeping with other men (dangerous men too, Dad says). They have put on a charade for 8 years to their son that they are happily married?? Where's the affection?? What are they teaching their son?? He's obviously not stupid here. He already gets that something's amiss. I can't imagine what dinnertime in their household is like. The man sounds like he's about to go "postal" at any minute, he's got so much pent-up anger at his wife.
Tim and I are always cuddling on the couch, he kisses me hello after he comes home from work, we go out on dates every now and then. We are best friends. We share parenting duties with laughter, affeciton, and love. Our kids see that we have a REAL marriage, not a hostile "pretend" marriage like this guy and his "wife". Does Dr. Laura really think that living an honest life separately is really soooo bad for this 13 year old boy that the parents have to put on a charade in front of him? Come on!! I'm insulted for this boy. Seriously. He is figuring it out and will have no respect for either of his parents as the truth WILL come out.
I really really really don't get how this could be in any way good for the son. He's learning #1) His parents are liars and cannot be trusted. #2) Marriage is about martyring yourself. It is not the union of two people who've joined together to love, trust and honor one another. Where's the friendship? Where's the affection? Is there any laughter in this household? What a joke. (pun not intended)
We all know divorce is hard on kids. We all know that no one marries thinking they'll get divorced. But sometimes it's in EVERYONE'S best interest to do so. If they divorced, both Mom and Dad could live a more honest life, heal from the pain they've inflicted on one another, and maybe find new spouses that would enhance their son's life as well. I know lots of step-moms and step-dads that are every bit as loving and caring as the biological parent, some more so. How can this not be considered an option?
This son would benefit from not being lied to, as if HE's the one who's crazy, seeing things as they really are and being told it's not true. Then finding out later, that he was right all along. The son will also be free of being manipulated by the two people he trusts most--his parents. If the father really loves his son, he'll tell him the truth, and teach him that a man deserves to be loved and treated with respect and dignity. Why would anyone put up with the nonsense this "wife" is doing to this family? How dare the husband/Dad inflict such dishonesty on the sacred home of this child? I'm furious. Absolutely blood-boiling mad. But the worst part is---Dr. Laura is applauding it!!
Dr. Laura has said in the past that the best gift a husband can give his children is simply, love their mother. This is not love. This is pathetic.
Readers? What do YOU think?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)