Shoulds
I have some really great pics of Nick's haircut. He asked me to cut it the other day and it looks amazing, but...Royce has the USB cord at the shop. I also have some sweet pics that Lea took down at the creek with Annie. And let's see, are there any other photos that are stuck in the camera that I can't put up here today....? Hm, I think that's it. I should have brought it home yesterday, but I forgot.
One of the things I said out loud today which was strange because I don't really think about it that often, but I said, "God, I wish my mom could see that..." It was really stupid, too ~ a toy or something that one of the kids have. I thought she would probably have really enjoyed seeing them with it and I don't know why that particular thing. And honestly, I really don't believe it. I think her problems kept her on the brink of narcissism most of the time and she probably would not have noticed like I sometimes think she would have. Or maybe should have.
I don't really miss her that often anymore, I really can't remember being mothered by her. Mothering takes up too much of my time now. It is a relief in a real way to recognize that I have only to mother now, especially when I see the obligations my friends have to their aging parents or their parents in general, I really don't have that. Even with my father, he has his own life and he's independent and frankly not that interested in me or my family except in a sadly obligatory way.
I guess I feel very grateful, that everyday I feel this and know this: that I don't feel that way toward my kids and they don't feel that way toward me. We are completely in each other's faces all day, criss-crossed over and under, each one of us invariably lifting one another or pulling each other along. There is hardly a moment where we're not enjoying one another; fighting is rare, and disagreements seldom color the mood. Where I am, or we are, or He is, they generally are ~ we can't even keep them out of our room, or their friends either. I feel so fortunate that this is an open house for my children and their relationships to flourish and that they come here, eat here, talk to us, tell us about their lives, play here, bring music to us, sleep here... sometimes Royce and I aren't even involved in their interaction, they just kind of become an offshoot of what we expect and display with respect and care. It's really impressive.
And I know something else, I know that when I'm dead and gone that my impact on my kids and their friends will be meaningful enough to them that they will remember me, and not be relieved that I'm not longer here; but will healthily miss me while moving into the sparkling newness of a life they will have without me. I will leave them feeling strong and capable, fully aware that they were respected, loved, adored, welcomed and wanted.
One of the things I said out loud today which was strange because I don't really think about it that often, but I said, "God, I wish my mom could see that..." It was really stupid, too ~ a toy or something that one of the kids have. I thought she would probably have really enjoyed seeing them with it and I don't know why that particular thing. And honestly, I really don't believe it. I think her problems kept her on the brink of narcissism most of the time and she probably would not have noticed like I sometimes think she would have. Or maybe should have.
I don't really miss her that often anymore, I really can't remember being mothered by her. Mothering takes up too much of my time now. It is a relief in a real way to recognize that I have only to mother now, especially when I see the obligations my friends have to their aging parents or their parents in general, I really don't have that. Even with my father, he has his own life and he's independent and frankly not that interested in me or my family except in a sadly obligatory way.
I guess I feel very grateful, that everyday I feel this and know this: that I don't feel that way toward my kids and they don't feel that way toward me. We are completely in each other's faces all day, criss-crossed over and under, each one of us invariably lifting one another or pulling each other along. There is hardly a moment where we're not enjoying one another; fighting is rare, and disagreements seldom color the mood. Where I am, or we are, or He is, they generally are ~ we can't even keep them out of our room, or their friends either. I feel so fortunate that this is an open house for my children and their relationships to flourish and that they come here, eat here, talk to us, tell us about their lives, play here, bring music to us, sleep here... sometimes Royce and I aren't even involved in their interaction, they just kind of become an offshoot of what we expect and display with respect and care. It's really impressive.
And I know something else, I know that when I'm dead and gone that my impact on my kids and their friends will be meaningful enough to them that they will remember me, and not be relieved that I'm not longer here; but will healthily miss me while moving into the sparkling newness of a life they will have without me. I will leave them feeling strong and capable, fully aware that they were respected, loved, adored, welcomed and wanted.
posted by SPOA | 9:49 AM
9 Comments:
Happy 4th and Happy Birthday to Steven!
The more I live and experience life, I'm constantly reminded how what came before influences what is now. Sometimes the Now is totally different because of the past and sometimes it is the same with minor variations.
This being Independence Day, your thoughts have a symbolic ring and feel like one of those pictures that depending on how you look at it, you will see either two profiles nose-to-nose or a single vase...the best of both worlds.
About your mom, keep her alive inside you. If you think she would have liked seeing something, then make it so; behave as if. Where did the thought come from? Some part of you does not want her forgotten.
As I write, I'm seeing the preview to "Evening" where Meryl Streep says something about what complicated creatures we women are. Amen, amen, amen...especially to ourselves. We walk on rocks, sand, concrete, etc., with the souls [sic] of our feet constantly adjusting to the terrain. If we had the right microscope, we could probably see the webbing between our toes ;-)
Meet me downtown at the Bijou at 4:00 pm and we will see the movie together....
Oh you must have sensed my restlessness and irritation in the movie theater I just came from watching Transformers with the family, the thought screaming in my head, "WHEN OH WHEN DURING ONE OF THESE millions of battle scenes that are reenacted over and over, over and over between GOOD AND EVIL will the whole fucking thing just BLOW UP!!" lol
I would have, should have, could have been over at the Bijou with you in a NY minute.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PbgfvtGuVE
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Margaret, I know you mean well, but how can you possibly assume you know that? I mean it very could well be the truth of the situation, just as it is with your father and his interest in other families more than his own.
My parents were who they were and I think did the best with what they knew to do. But that is not saying it was good enough, it wasn't. But I'm also not resentful. I'm stating a 'what is' in both the way I was raised and in the way I raise my own children.
The most important thing in my life now is that my own children feel respected, loved and wanted.. and they do. The rest is water under the bridge. Bless the broken road and all of that, and bless the people who brought me here. How can I be anything but grateful?
I don't really write here with hopes of being analysed. I write here because I'm free to write here, and maybe figure it out as I go along. Or maybe not. That is secondary.
It's just a place to write.
I’m a slow learner. Lately, it has become more clear to me that what is, what has been and what is still to come can’t be separated without losing its meaning. And yet, we pretend that it can be, talking about the past, the present and the future all the time, about memories, hopes and expectations (especially the failed ones, because the essence may be hidden in what we believe that never was, but it existed anyway, or we wouldn’t remember it). Maybe it’s because people want a well-organized existence; you don’t need to worry about what is to come or to mourn about what is lost when you lay them to rest in their own separate little boxes.
But I suspect that they don’t mean anything by themselves, and that what we think of as well-organized is probably just disconnected. So what we do is that we try to put them together again. We can meet at the Bijou at 4, or look at old photographs in a shoe box and let them draw us in. Or we can open a book and read:
“Seeing a flowering chestnut tree ahead of her, she walked up and stopped in front of it. She leaned her back against its trunk and looked up. She saw the leaves resplendent in the sun; she heard the sounds of the city, faint and sweet, like thousands of distant violins.”
What I learned this week is that there is no brink. And that narcissism is just a word. There's nothing but the sounds of the city, the warmth of the sun on our skin and the sand beneath our feet.
And laying on a blanket in the dark cool night with a sweaty spent child on your lap, looking to the stars, deep booms resonating in your chest and colorful sparkles raining from the sky :)
I was thinking, what a great way to celebrate your birthday Steven.
sorry to have upset you or your blog setup
i deleted it--take care
I'm not upset at all margaret, but I know the feeling of needing to remove something. I respect you enough to understand.
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