Mama Mantra

Deep down I know I'm a good Mom.  Way deep down, beneath the layers upon layers of doubt.  Past the scar tissue of insecurities and the almost never ending sea of guilt when I stumble upon my heart.  After I had children it no longer was beating for me, it was all for my boys. Every single beat.

I know I'm a good mom when I look in the review mirror at a tightly secured child in his car seat knowing it may have been a struggle, but I put him there.

I know I'm a good mom when taking a walk, I reach my arm down and extend my hand in a blind reach knowing it will be met with a tiny hand reaching up.

I know I'm a good mom when I know very well that a Happy Meal is not a real meal, but will make someone very very happy.

I know I'm a good mom when my son is the only boy picking dandelions during a soccer game and I take a picture and post it all over on social media because I'm just as proud as if he had scored a goal.

I know I'm a good mom when I check on them long after they have fallen asleep just one more time to make sure they are breathing.

I know I'm a good mom when my son looks both ways when he crosses the street on his own.

I know I'm a good mom when my oldest says I have ruined his life and still kisses me goodnight.

I know I'm good mom when I can sleep with my eyes shut and my ears open.

I know I'm a good mom when my son’s laughter can cause me to smile even when it's not funny.

I know I’m a good mom when I know the difference in a ninja fight between “ wahpicht and paching”

I know I'm a good mom when I get excited to have them away at camp but after the first night I feel like I have an empty nest, and I want them back again.

I know I'm a good mom when my child can wipe himself…thank God.

I know I'm a good mom when I feel like I'm not.

I know I'm a good mom when I not so patiently wait for my son to put his shoes on when we are already 10 minutes late.

I know I'm a good mom when I step out of his way when I know he is going to make a mistake.

I know I'm a good mom because I will wipe his tears whether the cause is physical pain or emotional.

I know I'm a good mom because I will keep telling myself this until I finally believe it.

If you are here, listening to this, you are a good Mom too, or maybe you know one.  You care enough to support another woman who is just as protective, vulnerable and completely head over heals in love with her child. Whether that child is at home, has moved far away, or just spent a short time with you on this Earth.

You are a good mom because you know that when you dig deep down, your heart will always beat loudest for the ones who were once closest to it.

Flying – told from my iPhone

Turbulence. Up next to death, this is by far my biggest fear.  Although turbulence doesn’t lead to death, it could be the beginning of the descent down to your death, therefor; this is why it is by far my biggest fear.

I’m typing this on my phone and if you are reading this, then either I landed and posted it, or I haven’t landed… but please excuse the typos.

It is safe to say I am not a good flyer.  

“ There is a colonial woman on the wing. There is something they’re not telling us. She was out there churning butter. She was churning butter!”

-       Bridesmaids (2011)

That quote is both true and terrifyingly accurate.

I start fearing turbulence weeks before my flight.  I have nightmares about it the night before and then on the plane.  I spend the majority of my time on the flight waiting for it.  The slightest bump on in the air send me into a complete panic grabbing my arm rest and in most cases, we haven’t even taken off yet.

My brother was on a flight once and told me that that the turbulence was SO bad the air masks came down and people were puking and screaming.  I have never been on anything that bad, but thanks to him I now have a vivid description burned into my brain for reference.

My first flight was when I was 15.  There were several occasions that my parents wanted to take me on a flight, but being a child of the 80’s, and having the permission to watch anything on TV my view points on air travel were influenced strongly by the coverage of airplane crashes all over the world.  Meaning, there was no way in hell I was going to get on a plane.

My parents were forced to travel without me. Wait a second….

Anyway the point is that I’m now on a plane and Oprah always said to trust your gut and my gut is now telling me that I’m screwed.  I’m pretty sure this is the end.

Although the clouds look lovely and it is quite scenic there must be an undercurrent, or whatever you call it in the air and it is sucking us under forcing the plane to shift every way its is not suppose to.

If I land I will need to buy a new shirt because I’m confident I have sweat through this one.  I keep looking at the flight attendant who must have had a horrible childhood to choose a profession like this.  She is a beverage serving  masochist.

I wonder if I should wake the man up across from me and tell him we are going down. Is he asleep or did he pass out?  It’s hard to tell.  How can anyone sleep when our lives are entrusted to some guy I don’t even know. Who, if it is the same guy I think it is, looks like he was old enough to be at a Fraternity party last night.

What are pilot’s credentials anyway?  I have a friend who is a pilot and I’m pretty sure he just took an online class. He is always online too. Maybe that is why we are so bumpy. The pilot is looking at pics he has been tagged in last night.

Why aren’t we allowed to ask any questions? I have had my hand in the air for the past  23 minutes and nobody has called on me. She probably knows I’m going to ask the hard questions like, “Are we going to die?”  Or “ Is this the end?”

Maybe if I close my eyes and pray this will get better.

Nope.

I think I’m having a heart attack.

Seriously, why can’t we read up on the pilot before we get on the plane.   It reminds me of the guy at the fair who buckled me in to the zipper ride before propelling me into the air in a steel cage, only to toss me around and make me sick.  I’m not seeing much of a difference, except at the end I don’t get an elephant ear. I don’t get anything. Not even a bag of peanuts or pretzels.

Or maybe, it’s not the pilot, it’s the plane, its’ a lemon!

The lady in front of me seems suspiciously calm. If she wants to read about Bruce, I mean Caitlin Jenner in her final moments then fine by me.  I can read over her shoulder, but I’m not going to like it.

Why did the Wright brothers think this was a good idea? I mean, can you imagine what their mother must have felt when they told her they were going to fly?  Just yesterday Oscar thought it would be a good idea to try and pole vault over a log with a twig. I didn’t encourage that.

Maybe it would have been a good thing if we all stuck to ground transportation.  We would still see regional dialects.  Those are pretty much null. Why? Because of air travel. Disease is spread, How?  Through air travel.

When I was a kid we traveled by motorhome. (Thanks to my obnoxious and paralyzing fear of flying.) And it was safe. Except for the time that we were cruising down the interstate and the Hell’s Angels bike gang surrounded our motorhome. I remember is my mom screaming, “Kids just look straight ahead!” Don’t look them in the eye!” And we all did, and they passed us. Although I gave one grizzly guy the side eye and I swear he winked.

I would do that 100 times again than to be stuck in this coffin in the sky.

Did our pilot just hit the breaks? What. The. Hell.  Are we actually traveling backwards or does it just feel that way?  IS there a drivers Ed program for pilots?  And if so, are we unwilling participants?

Okay, I see land.  It is so beautiful. Well, it’s NJ, but to me it looks like Heaven.

And we are on the ground.

After an eternity trying to get off the plane I have to wonder why people put their luggage behind them in the overhead compartments. I mean, if each person is allowed one bag, then that should mean you put it over your head. Now this guy is forcing everyone to the back of the plane because he has to get his stupid bag.

4 aisles behind where he was.

I’m off.

What every happened to travel companions? I need one.  I’m a mess. I followed an old man into a corner looking for my terminal.  He said he doesn’t like this airport either and that he would help me find my gate.   A senior citizen heading to Florida is helping me find my gate. I need help finding a Starbucks first.

They don’t have a Starbucks, but something that kind of looks like that. Caffeine is probably not what I need, but Phil said he could go for one too.

After a nice conversation and a shuttle ride that only a sign that only a person who can read brail could find, Phil cut the cord.

His Florida gate isn’t close to my Baltimore gate, but he wished me well and dare I say, he looked worried when we parted.   Where is my best friend when I need her?  My mom recently admitted to putting me on a leash when I was a kid as we toured Washington DC. Now I know why I have attachment issues. But I would give anything to be tethered to someone right now that knew where he or she was going.

As I was walking a nice looking middle-aged woman came up to me smiling.  “Where did you find Starbucks?” she desperately asked. I told her it wasn’t Starbucks, but a lackluster imposter, located in a land far away in a place called concourse A.

And now I wait.  Wait to board a plane to go through this all over again.

According to Joe, who just came up to me to ask my name and ask how I was doing, and me answering him asking for the wifi code,  Newark International Airport, along with Laguardia are the only airports in the US without complimentary Wifi. Hence, typing on my phone. And another reason not to fly. 

If you are reading this, I’m still here. But let it be known, that I will never fly again..after my layover. Except on Sunday, when I go back home.. unless I rent a car.  We’ll see.

Age Discrimination Does Not Apply to Heros

A new friend of mine who recently found out I have four sons and one big kid in a husband's body asked me if I was going to the comic book and entertainment expo in Chicago.   I hadn't planned on it because I didn't know about it.

Politicians have been using this tactic for years.  They don't want to know information because once they know it, it is harder to lie about knowing certain information.

But since I knew about it, I felt obligated to share it with the boys and Don over dinner.  Parker exclaimed "What!?" and the excitement snowballed down to Oscar who was screaming but didn't even know why. We decided to go on Sunday since it was kids day and tickets were $5.

I don't dislike comic books or fictional super heros.  I dislike conventions.  Which is ironic because my dad built his design business around conventions and trade shows.  I just don't like the red carpet, the people, the booths the lanyards.   Then you add a comic theme to the mix and you have people in costumes.

When we were walking in I didn't know if we were at a Furry convention or a Comic convention.   We were greeted with a huge sign that read COSTUMES DO NOT MEAN CONSENT, KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF. Seriously? I understand a kid wanting to touch a costume, but most kids who can't even read yet know better. This sign was for adults.

Once I got in, I understood why people might be tempted to want to touch something that they shouldn't.  There was a Princess Leia doing circa de sole.  Numerous people wearing underwear as outerwear.   A woman holding a log like a baby. Despite all of this, we allowed Finegan and Parker to venture off together after I wrote my phone number on their arms. I know they know it, but if for some reason they are unable to speak I wanted someone to be able to get a hold of me in case they confronted with kryptonite.  Even though the two younger ones were with Don and me, we wrote my phone number on their arms as well.  It  was legal to tattoo it I would, and never change my number until the day I die. It sounds crazy, but if you have ever lost a child in a crowd it is terrifying. I can't even imagine losing a child in a crowd of villains.

Within 30 minutes Oscar was overwhelmed and underfed and ready to go home.  I had surprised Jack with the promise of meeting his favorite superhero, Stan Lee.  Jack has loved Stan Lee since he was 5. He knows everything about him.  His birthday: Dec. 28, 1922.  His wife and daughter's names.   What he eats for breakfast every day.  When I found out Stan Lee was going to be there, I knew that Jack would love to meet him.

Jack has always been interested in the back story. His favorite website is IMDB.  After he sees a movie, he looks up the actors, director and producers and finds out what year they were born.  After he saw The Wizard of Oz he was shocked to learn that Judy Garland was born the same year as Stan Lee and wondered if they knew each other.

Jack loves the process of pretending.  Stan Lee represents everything he likes.  A creator in the true sense of the word.   So I purchased the opportunity for Jack to get a picture with him.  At age 92,  I wasn't sure how many more opportunities we would have.

We stood in line for 35 minutes even though we had a reservation.  Behind us was a tool shed who kept burping and singing Jimmy Buffet songs trying to impress his girlfriend. I wanted to turn around and tell her to run as far away from him as she possibly could, but I decided to focus on Jack.  In front of us was a family of four who were nervous to meet Stan Lee and rehearsed what they were going to say.  I was drinking a green smoothie out of a mason jar so I'm sure if those people have blogs I'm mentioned as the weird lady drinking her vegetables in line.  Jack was patiently sandwiched between all of us and probably the most normal thing about the entire convention.

When we made our way to the front of the line a woman gave us specific instructions.   No touching, No hand shaking and No conversation.  The family before us must have been disappointed.
As we rounded the corner something amazing happened.  Jack lit up and slowly walked over to Stan Lee.  Stan Lee got up and gave Jack a hug, put his arm around him and asked his name.  Jack told him and they took a great picture, Stan shook his hand and told him to have a fun day.  The only thing Jack said was "Hi!" and "Okay!"  We were then escorted to yet another line to wait for our picture.

As we were waiting Jack got a little teary and said "He remembered me."  I know that sounds lofty, progressive, new age, whatever you call it.  Maybe Jack had a dream that they had met. Or maybe he was thinking that Stan could see him through his computer.  I don't know.  Or maybe at that moment the two of them found a common ground despite the 85 year age difference.

I couldn't help but think of a three-year-old Jack talking to me shortly after Oscar was born.  He asked where Oscar was before he was in my arms.  I told him that the baby was in my tummy.  He then told me that before he was born he was a happy old man, and has always said that even to this day.  The funny thing is, I believe him.  He has an old soul.

I got a little emotional just seeing how happy Jack was and thankful that I was able to give him this experience.   When we were given the picture he put it in his tote and went about his day.  I was wrong about Stan. I don't think he is going anywhere any time soon. This man has more life in him than people half of half his age.

We finally all gathered in our meeting place next to the giant  poster of characters I wasn't familiar with and decided we had had enough.  Oscar was now moving at a snails pace and repeating "Stan Lee" at a escalating pace.  Even though he had no interest in meeting him when we arrived.

We stopped for ice cream on the way home and for a suspended moment, all was well in our galaxy.  I'm glad to have been able to share this experience with the boys even though I did not want to even tell them about it in the first place.

Sometimes it is cool to be adventurous. Try something new and to not act your age, whether you are 7 or 92.

Ordinary

This morning I passed through the kitchen in the normal rush that fills our house on a school day.  For some reason I heard an inner whisper which told me to stop and take a look.   When I turned around I saw this.

It looks pretty ordinary. But today it felt extraordinary.  This average Wednesday morning in April feels like a gift.   They are sitting quietly eating yogurt and fruit.  Neutral emotions. Not asleep, but not yet awake.   

There are moments that they will remember, such as birthday celebrations, Christmas or family trips, but the simple things when you are idling in neutral  while eating breakfast on a school day will be forgotten. Possibly by tomorrow.  I don't remember having breakfast as a kid. I mean, I know we did, my mom certainly didn't send us to school hungry but I never had a picture of it.  Sometimes I wish I did.

Things change so fast.   In just 15 years these boys will be men, either in college or recently graduated, maybe even married.  Scenes like this won't happen very often, if ever.  It will be different, and great in it's own way but it won't be like this.  Getting together with your siblings when you are older is complicated and impossible and truthfully, unlikely to happen.  

I grabbed my phone and took this picture but more than that, I stood and watched them for a minute.   I hit a personal pause button and took it all in. In that single moment there was no other place in the world I would rather be.  So I captured it. 

Within seconds we were back in motion.  Even fast motion. Rushing to get dressed, pack backpacks, brush teeth and get to school on time. Back to the typical roar of the morning. 

I don't know where the notion to stop came from and it doesn't matter. What does matter is that I listened to it and I am grateful for that.

Today, just take an ordinary moment and hit the pause button, celebrate it with a picture.  The image may not take it's place in a frame on the mantel, but hopeuflly it will take a place in your heart. 

Love Conquers Fear

Jack walked into the house and found me scraping out the bottom of a muffin pan of its burnt contents. "Before I was born I was a blade of grass." he said.  I heard "Was I born a bad ass ?"
Of course I asked him to repeat himself because misheard things have been known to cause conflict in our home.

The last instance was when I thought Oscar said "fuck you up" when… oh wait, he did say that. But in his defense he thought he was saying "funk you up."

I stopped the scraping and asked him to repeat himself.  By this time his older brother was standing there when Jack again declared that he was a blade of grass before he was born.  Fin immediately said that it was stupid and impossible.  Jack held his ground, (pun intended) yet this time defensive and hurt.

He explained that he wasn't a blade of grass for very long, but when he was it was wonderful. He remembers being cold at night and waiting for the sun, and when it finally came up he would feel it's warmth. He talked about how he got water from the ground when he was thirsty.

Fin decided that this wasn't worth his time and he left saying that he hoped a dog peed on Grass Jack.   By this time Jack was drawing vibrant blades of grass on a paper and tried to ignore Fin's insult.  But tears were forming in his eyes and he asked me if I believed that he was a blade of grass before he was born.   I told him that I believed him with my entire heart.

Since Jack was born, he has added a sweetness to our family. His heart is pure and his love is contagious. Jack was my first son whose birth showed me what other women were talking about with love at first sight.   When he was 3 we thought he had wondered off. For two agonizing hours we couldn't find him. I wrote about it here, but the reason I bring that up, is because our entire neighborhood went looking for him.  Even when he isn't even trying, he brings out goodwill in people.

If something in his little heart identifies with a simple blade of grass, so be it.

When do things get complicated?  To a kid it is really simple.  There is love. Eventually fear creeps in, But usually love can overcome fear.  I was terrified of the dark as a kid.  I was afraid somebody was going to climb up from the floor and get me.  A fear based on Edgar Allen Poe's, The Tell-Tale Heart   The fictional story my brother told me had created such a fear in me that my mom would lie on the floor in the spot that the dismembered body was going to creep up from, until I fell asleep. Her love, not her girth, or strength, weapons or opinions were going to save me, but just the fact that she loved me, led me to feel safe.

*On a side note, I would like to thank my brother for telling me that story so I could have nightmares the first half of my life.

You fear what you don't know or understand. In my case it was a story, in other's case its someone who is different from you.  But even in my darkest moment of fear when I thought Jack was gone, love prevailed.

The biggest lesson I try and teach my boys is one that I have to work on every single day.  What if  there was no "you" and "them"?  What if we all came from the same source?  If you insult someone you are essentially insulting yourself. But if you show compassion and love to someone, ultimately you are showing love to yourself as well.

Some will say, it's not that easy or it's easier said than done. Which is true, but it shouldn't be.  Love really isn't hard. Do we really have all the answers anyway?

With everything going on in Indiana and the mud slinging of hatred on both sides,  I have to remind myself that we are all one.  When you look at a field you don't see the tiny blades of grass, you see it as a whole and it is beautiful.

As we get older we find ways to make things complicated. It is all pretty simple when you step back and look from a wide lens instead of a narrow one.

Love really can conquer fear if we step aside and let it.

10 REASONS THE BREAKFAST CLUB MADE ME A FANTASTIC PARENT

                                     

I cannot believe the breakfast club is 30! It was the first tape my family ever owned. This was back in a time where parents didn’t have access to online parent guides or reviews as to what was appropriate for children. My brother is 7 years older than me. At 15 I guess my parents thought he was mature enough to watch R movies. (He wasn’t). So mature that he would fire up the VHS, pop open a bag of Doritos and watch it with his 8-year-old sister, repeatedly. To this day I don’t think our parents have even seen a movie that I can recite word for word.

I would like to think that my parent’s lack of micro-supervision in the 80’s was beneficial. The lesson I learned while watching The Breakfast Club shaped how I parent today. So now I belong to a social club called parenting. It’s sort of social, demented and sad, but social.

1. Breakfast can be just as good for lunch. I would never have discovered the delight of a
Capn’ Crunch sandwich if I hadn’t seen Allison eat one.

2. Bitches can’t handle the smoke. Don’t think I didn’t think of that the first time I was offered a cigarette.

*On a side note: drugs don’t discriminate social groups. You can be a princess, an athlete, nerd or basket case and still smoke pot. The high doesn’t even last the entire day.

3. You have to carry a ton of shit in your bag, because you never know when you may need to jam. Especially if you are potty training a 3 year old.

4. Don't Go Into a Closet with A Bull,  Son. Principles and other people of authority show their true colors behind closed doors, or in a school closet. As soon as the door shuts they will call you a gutless turd. Just because someone has authority and makes a ton of money like “$31,000 a year.” Doesn’t make them a good person.

*On a side note: What principle wears a suit to work on a Saturday? 

5. Running in a group is always better than running by oneself. However, floors can be very slippery. Take caution when running.

6. Duct tape does not belong in a locker room. Poor Larry Lester. Also, if you see a jock holding duct tape in a locker room you better cover your buns and run.

7. Less is more. Nobody looks good with all that black shit in her eyes. Pulling your hair out of your face is a good thing.

*On a side note: You have to have really voluptuous lips and a yoga-like neck to pull off Clair’s lipstick trick. After 30 years of trying, I personally think it is impossible.

8. Parents can be assholes. They pressure their kids to be good a athlete, or to make the fucking elephant lamp to work. Or they ignore their kids or and become demanding when they want chicken potpies. As a parent, don’t be an asshole.

9. Good dancing is subjective. It could be rolling around a statue, or skip-dancing on the stairs, or doing some weird muscle man walk thing or drumming on your knee. Don’t worry about it, just move your body and be happy.

10. Don’t judge a book by its cover. You can make friends with anyone even when you only have one thing in common, like detention.

The sad reality is that if you were to have the same situation tomorrow in a school detention, those five students would probably never even learn each others name because their heads would be buried in  apps, snap chats and texts.

I’m so thankful I was able to live the awkward, kind of childhood that John Hughes told so well. It made me a kind of awkward bizarre parent I am today.