Let them be little

My oldest daughter today reminded me that my youngest only has two more Halloweens as a teenager. Of course, it hit me hard and the constant reminder that my kids are no longer little always makes me sad. I wish we could have a double version of our kids - one that grows up and becomes a wonderful adult and then another one who never gets older than kindergarten age so we can continue to enjoy all of those wonderful times.

Her comment made me think of Halloween and that debate about whether or not teens should trick or treat. I never understood why people would even question that. When I was a teenager, Halloween involved eggs and shaving cream and very rarely had any candy. Looking back, I would not have minded a couple of Blow Pops and M&Ms. Mind you, I am from a time when some people did give out apples or a handful of candy corn or five pennies twisted up in saran wrap or (the worst thing ever) raisins! 

But why do we assume that once you hit a certain age, you don't want to dress up and walk around the neighborhood with your friends and get free candy? What is the age limit? Do you hit puberty and all of a sudden the only thing you can do on Halloween is watch scary movies, walk through a dark cemetery or TP someone's house?

I know we can't treat our kids like babies their whole lives, but can we let them act like kids a little longer? Is high school the age when our kids are supposed to "grow up"? It's not like they are learning how to be adults there. They don't learn basic skills like addressing an envelope or doing taxes. They don't learn how to write a resume or fill out a job application. They are basically expected to know how to do everything but get very little in the way of actual real world education. Seriously, ask your kid to make their own doctor appointment and they might pass out! 

Some families are very good at teaching their kids how to live life. Laundry, changing a tire, taking out trash, helping with groceries - all of these things we have to do as adults. Some families are pretty bad at it and have kids who grow up expecting someone else to do those things or think they somehow magically happen. I'm somewhere in the middle. I feel like I taught my kids enough to do it on their own, but they still have no problem letting me do things for them.

And yes, I still do have trick or treat bags for my kids. I will still help them make costumes if they want - especially since I'm not about the traditional female costumes (sexy nurse, sexy police officer, sexy black cat). And if a 16 year old comes to my door, you can be sure they are getting a handful of candy. Because, let's face it, if they are taking the time to go walk around with their friends and be silly and have fun and get free candy, that is the better option than what they could be doing.

So give them the candy and don't question it!💀

Conversations

Recently, I was waiting for my order in Five Guys when I hear a woman and her son talking behind me. The conversation was moving. It was moving because the son was moving and the woman (I'm guessing mom) was following him. He was a cute kid, no older than 5 or 6, and he seemed very interested in the drink machine and the person making a shake and putting a cherry on top of it and the huge bags of peanuts and the french-fry-making process and the counter filled with buns and lettuce and pickles. 

He wasn't obnoxious or intrusive in any way. He was just quiet and curious - as if all of this was new to him and he was calmly absorbing all of it. I felt that. I love watching the people at Five Guys do what they do, because there is so much happening and they take something that can be so chaotic and turn it into a chorus. All I wanted was my little burger, but instead all I could see was this little woman back and forth in front of me as the child moved away from her.

No part of that kid was at all interested in what his mom was saying. Normally, that would not surprise me because certain places can be interesting to kids - especially if there is a lot going on. It's not like they were sitting at a table with no other stimulation and she was trying to give him something to do to stave off boredom. She was actively pursuing this kid in an attempt to have a conversation. The problem, to me, was the conversation and I could see why ketchup and bacon and cheese was much more interesting to him.

"Did you know my Grandpa was in the war?" 

No response. 

"Do you know what war is?" 

Staring at the whipped cream being squirted on the shake. 

"War is when people fight against each other with guns and people die." 

WTF?

In my mind, I'm thinking if this chick will have this conversation with her kindergarten-age kid in public, what the heck is she talking to them about at home? 

There is currently a war raging in Gaza and I would never minimize the impact it has on families and nations and the world. I know people need to learn about the history of that conflict and understand there is much more to it than what we see on our regular news channels. But at that age? Am I wrong in thinking he's a bit too young to understand the ins and outs of terrorism? I know we live in a very different world than we did 60 years ago (I was trying to do the math and figure out what war her grandfather was in) but I still think that children can learn things in broad, generic ways rather than a how-to guide of semi-automatic weapons and tanks. I know that there are children in the world who have to deal with war and terrorism and violence and traumatic reality and I am sure their parents do not want to have to talk to them about the types of things they face on a daily basis. I also know that, as Americans, we should teach our children that they are fortunate and should pray for and love their peers all over the world who may not have the same luxuries and basic rights that we enjoy.

That kid was lucky that the only problem he had to face at that moment was if his mom would let him eat the extra fries in the bag on the way home.

She didn't stop talking and finally, they called my number and I got my bag. As I was walking out, I heard him ask for a strawberry shake. I didn't wait to hear her answer.

No comparison

Now that my youngest daughter is away at college, I find it even harder to share things about my journey through motherhood. There are days when I see other people posting on social media about the incredible time they are having. There are days when my daughter sees the same thing. There are even days when I will get a text or an e-mail from an acquaintance asking me how she is doing. My answers have gotten more and more generic. I feel like if I tell someone about a struggle, they respond with "it will get better" and then tell me how their child is smashing it. 

Sometimes, it is hard to be happy for other people's happiness. I realize that their joy is theirs to have and I should celebrate with and for them. The paranoid side of me thinks they are only getting in touch so they can wave their child's success in my face. I know that is silly and probably untrue, but it still feels that way at times. 

I try to appease myself by thinking that so many people these days live an Instagram life. They post pics of their happy family online, taking wonderful vacations and posing in matching outfits on the beach or at the apple orchard. None of us really sees what they are actually like at home or what they might be suffering through so judging and comparing isn't really fair. I need to just respond to the text with "That's great!" like the post and heart the picture and be happy for their happiness. 

I wonder if my mom worried about me when I was away at school the way I worry about my daughter. College for me was a loooong time ago. I don't remember if I was afraid or worried or anxious. There was no ability to text or FaceTime and my first semester meant calling home from a payphone in the hallway so I am sure there weren't that many calls. I also had a very different upbringing than my kids. I was what people called a "latch key kid". Mine was a single mother who worked, so when my sister and I were old enough, we walked home from school and did our homework (well, she did) and chores (again, she did) and fended for ourselves until she came home from work. I drove my kids to school (until they could drive themselves), they came to my office and then the pandemic made me a work-at-home mom. But my mom didn't have to deal with social media. She only had to deal with the other moms walking past them on the front stoop or if she happened to pass them in the store aisle.

Many of these parents who tell me how great their kids are doing are also the same parents that didn't go to orientation or didn't know what time high school graduation started or didn't wonder what classes were best for their major. It might not be that they don't care, but they are doing the right thing and letting go little by little and giving their child more independence. None of us is perfect. None of us is doing it the right way. We are all just doing it the best way we can. So no more comparing. I will keep loving your posts and will try harder and harder to mean it.

Role Models

 You know that saying "more is caught than taught?" I feel that, as a parent, there is nothing more true than that. There is a scene in the movie 42 where a young boy wants to cheer for Jackie Robinson and then hears his dad call the legendary baseball player the most horrendous and derogatory name and he, like his father, starts to shout the same racial slurs. It is heartbreaking, but is so much representative of our culture.

This past weekend, I ventured into Target. Now, it was a Sunday and there were a lot of families in there doing college shopping. It is understandable for people to be stressed when they put these important life choices (what color comforter? how many towels?) off to the last minute. But, surprisingly, Target wasn't awfully crowded and the line was moving at a decent pace.

Until Trashy McGee got on line. He was a person behind me so I didn't notice. The young man in line in front of me let me go first because he needed a self-checkout that accepted cash. So now Trashy would be two people behind me. The cash kid stepped up and had to wait because the machine needed ID or something. So, by then, Trashy was at the next self-checkout. And his machine started to act up. His kid, probably about 9 or 10, was being patient. But the dad was another story. He started yelling "Yo. Hello. Can we get a human over here? Does anyone actually work here? We need a human over here." 

The entire checkout audience did a collective eye roll. It was not event 11am and this guy was already either on his fourth beer or his fourth cup of coffee and he was pissed. It didn't take long for someone to run over - the store is obviously understaffed and these kids are running back and forth doing online orders. When she did come over, instead of letting her help cash guy (who was there first) Trashy waved her over and basically criticized her slow gait, the lack of employees, Target in general and everyone else on the planet because he had to wait 36 seconds to swipe his card.

A woman behind him said "you don't have to be so rude" and he told her to shut the f*ck up. She then said something about talking like that in front of his kid, which sent him into a tirade of F bombs about her audacity in questioning his (obviously stellar) parenting skills. The woman was calm, but you could tell she just wanted to stick up for the poor girl who was trying to punch in her key code and get the heck out of that situation. She was trying to stick up for that little boy who was obviously embarrassed. And then Trashy had the nerve to call this woman a fat, f*ckin bitch. Fat? Really. Trashy, you have boobs. I don't mean like some big pecs from working out - you have literal boobs that could comfortably fit into a C or D cup. And you have the nerve to call a woman fat and tell her to go F herself? 

Listen, I have a bad mouth. I have a bad temper. I'm all for yelling at someone who really deserves it. But that lady didn't. The workers didn't. The kids working were all patient and friendly and helpful. But, does Trashy's son learn that his dad is a jerk? Or does he learn that this is the way to get what you want no matter who you offend? No kid wants to think their dad is a jerk. But, if that is how you grow up - watching someone to talk to people like they don't matter - then it's hard to not turn into that person yourself.

Sometimes, I watch how my daughters interact with other people and wonder if they saw me do that or they just did that on their own. I hope the way I behave in public is something they aren't embarrassed about. I feel like my mom taught me good manners and how to be kind to people. I know I have a LOT of faults, but not yelling at people in public is one of the things I think I am okay at.

And I will say this - the woman who called Trashy out? She had an adorable doofy pit bull with her and in my head, I was hoping that dog would just flip a switch and bite that Trashy guy right in the butt to get him to shut up. I'm sure I'm not the only one!

Barbie

 I thought my daughters were just humoring me when they came with me to see the Barbie movie. I figured they might be embarrassed so we went to a theater a few towns away where I didn't think anyone would recognize them.

Turns out, they were super excited to see it - maybe even as much as me. At first, I was hesitant about seeing Barbie because I'm not a huge fan of live action remakes of treasured animated favorites. But, the marketing genius behind that movie made it nearly impossible to stay away from. That is 1 hour and 54 minutes I was glad to give and would do again.

If you haven't seen that movie yet, go. It was funny and sad and silly and sweet and thoughtful but, most of all, memorable. I can't remember another movie that has so stirred up memories of my childhood and my daughters' childhood. 

Barbie was one of my favorite toys. I didn't have a lot of them but I took care of them like they were my kids. I would never ever ever think of putting marker makeup on them or trying to change their hair and would get really upset if anyone else touched them. My mom made my Barbie clothes. Looking back, that was freaking awesome. How her fingers could stitch such intricate patterns and sew little snaps and buttons on will forever amaze me. Back then, I didn't like it much. When you are poor, having homemade clothes is not fun - even when they are Barbie clothes. So, if you got a Barbie Dream House, even if it was from a yard sale, it was the best thing you ever saw and you made sure to keep it clean and tidy. And if your friends up the street wanted to use your Barbie clothes, even though they weren't fancy and new, you would not let that happen no matter what.

When my kids got old enough to play with Barbies, I was over the moon. I couldn't wait to sit with them and brush their hair and make sure their shoes matched their outfit and have them act out their roles as mothers and doctors and pilots. But, that wasn't their Barbie vision. My kids, those animals, wanted to change Barbie's clothes and give her mismatched shoes and braid her hair. Um, no, that is not how we play with Barbie, girls. 

You know that feeling you get when you spend five hours cleaning your house and your kid dumps a bowl of fruit punch on the carpet? Or the one when your kid puts play-doh in their hair instead of making a nice little sculpture? Those feelings did not compare. It was more like a feeling of watching your child knock over your dining room hutch filled with your great-grandmother's china. Yeah, I know it's insane, but Barbie being Barbie was important to me. And not because I wanted to ever be like Barbie, but because having something that nice and pretty made me feel in control of something nice and pretty.

My mom did make clothes for my daughters' Barbies. And they did and still do cherish those clothes. Spoiler Alert - One of the most beautiful parts of the movie is a montage of women and girls playing with Barbies. It literally made me sob. (and if my girls weren't embarrassed about seeing the movie with me before, they certainly were now!) It made me think about my mom, who passed away eight years ago, and how much time she must have taken making those Barbie clothes. It made me think of my girls when they were small and how my youngest is leaving for college in a few days. And it also made me think about all the wonderful memories I have that are tied to that doll. I bet there are a lot of moms and daughters who have those same kind of wonderful memories.

So, go see the movie. Embrace its powerful message. Just remember to bring tissues.

The Summer of See Ya!

 There are fewer than two weeks before my youngest daughter moves into college. My internal clock that is filled with sadness and memories and wondering if I bought enough body wash and the right kind of comforter do not match the clock that she has. 

Her clock has no alarm. It doesn't wake her up in the morning and have her pop out of bed ready to spend those last few days at home enjoying my company. Instead, her clock just keeps quiet until the afternoon hours when she finally wakes up.

It doesn't remind her that her mom is out in the dining room looking through a collection of photos, trying to find the best ones for her wall and getting sad about her leaving. It doesn't remind her that there are still a dozen things left on her must-have list that she has yet to pick out.

Her clock reminds her that it is time for her to get ready to go out with friends, spend hours around a firepit laughing or find a party. 

I wish that clock could start over. Not just because I wish I had more time with her, but because I wish she could get the last four years back. I wish she didn't have to cram a high school social life into a summer of "see ya". Like so many other people, my daughters both lost out on so much of high school. One was a senior and one was a freshman when the pandemic took away normalcy. The oldest didn't really care too much since she didn't like school anyway and didn't care about the traditional prom and graduation stuff. But, the youngest? She was hit....hard. She thrives when she is around other people and being isolated for two years took its toll. Even when kids started to go back to school, she could barely face it - her life was forever changed. So, she didn't get all her fun in during her senior year and is now trying to make up for it. 

That is why I have no problem with her clock. Mine is ticking and the minutes are going by too fast. My sadness is for myself and my loss but also for all the time she lost. I know that when she is a few years older, she will probably be thankful for missing so much of high school (let's admit it - high school kinda sucks) but I wish she got a bit of a do-over. 

And right now, I might just go and "accidentally" vacuum outside her bedroom door and if she happens to wake up, I won't be sad.

MYOB

It has been a VERY long time since I updated this blog - mostly because life often gets in the way  of doing what you love but mainly because I never really think that anyone wants to read yet another mom blog.

The latter thought has been on my mind a lot lately. My youngest daughter is leaving for college in 17 days (I cringe just thinking about it) so I have joined some social media groups hoping for tips and tricks on a successful move-in day. My oldest went locally so I didn't have to think about the best type of mattress cover or closet organizer for her. And when I went to college, I crammed everything in the back of a 1976 Chevette and unpacked myself in a room that didn't have a phone or internet or air conditioning. So, I am new at this second round of nesting. 

Hoping for advice on the best options for a fan or desk lamp, I joined these groups to see if someone had the inside track on a good price for a Woozoo or knew the best place to get a dorm rug. What I got was a lot of unsolicited advice from people who have "been there, done that". These are the people who respond to a woman's comment about the shelf life of granola bars with "Just let them be. They will figure it out on their own."

I get that this is the way of social media. Someone asks a question and instead of answering it, people give their "solution" and advice. They give the wrong answer or take the conversation on a path that no one wanted to walk down. But, here is the thing - when I asked if anyone knows if there is an elevator in the dorm my daughter is moving into, that wasn't an invitation for you to judge my parenting.

Full disclosure, I am a lawnmower parent. I always have been and probably always will be. I know it. I own it. And I don't care what you think of it. So Mind Your Own Business! 

You might say I am asking for comments when I put a post on social media, and you're right. But, what I'm not asking for is you telling me that I need to learn to let go of my kid and let her spread her wings and fly. Duh. I'm sending the girl to college three hours away. I'm giving her the tools she needs to start a life on her own. And if those tools happen to include enough snacks to feed her dorm floor for a week, so what? What do you care? Does it make me an inferior parent because I bought her a first aid kit or a hot pink fluffy pillow? 

It is going to be hard enough for parents to put down that last box and walk out of that room knowing that they are going home to an empty teenager bedroom. Why break them down even more by telling them to "get over it" and just drop them off and leave? Sure, we did this 13 years ago when we watched our kid get on the school bus for the first time. But, back then we knew they would be home after a few hours. This is not at all the same thing. So, be quiet, and let us all worry a little more than we should about whether or not we are packing enough socks and if they need the platinum meal plan. 

Mind Your Own Business and let us do what we can to feel like our kids need us for a little longer.