Tag: children

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Parenting Connections – Why is bonding so beneficial?

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

40 Reflections – #3:  40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

When our children were younger, I would accompany them to birthday parties, playdates, practices, and other events and watch, wait, and chat with other parents. I loved connecting, it was like I would imagine the old Eharmony but for parents. A time to find your tribe of trusted moms and dads, then ever-so-carefully pick a few who relate to your cheeky humor, and pray your kids and theirs are in the next room bonding over a juice box.

As our kids aged, I noticed parents would leave these events, and return at the “pick-up time”.  I always opted to stay, plopping down on the ground, cherishing my chats with the few other parents who would sit in their comfy cup-holding canvas chairs (such a great invention).  Sure, sometimes, I was the mom who brought a book that other parents respectfully knew meant – whoever holds the book has just put themselves in a quiet, parental time out, a virtual “do not disturb sign”. That was rare. I needed to chat, commiserate about the losses, and celebrate the wins.

As the kids got a little older there was another shift. Either I grew more confident (or less patient waiting) and would go for a run while they practiced. As long as I was within a mom’s stone’s throw between them, I felt I could still get to them and perform CPR as needed. Of course, I was always happy to get in a run, but I missed the parent-share conversations… those words exchanged between parents that only the gap of time when our children are engaged with their friends allowed.

One night, all three of our children had events simultaneously, and a tough moment ensued.  Clearly, we had to pick our least favorite child, leave them at their designated practice, and accompany the others.

Kidding. Our eldest was the default, and since some nights I was the lone mom hanging out for the two hours at swim practice anyway, I figured she’d be okay while I took our son to baseball practice. As I drove away, of course thinking the worst, it was one of the few times I was grateful our daughter had a phone. Plus, at baseball, there were other helicopter parents like myself to share best practices, a clear bonus. It all worked out.

What I learned:

Our children’s activities, whether we realize it or not, give us a chance to pause and discover we are not the only ones bouncing around blindly in this parenting pinball game. While our kids solidify their friendships at birthday parties or discover they truly despise dancing in toe shoes (my daughter), we are given the gift of connection to share our stories with other parents and listen to theirs.

Back then, I remembered feeling the weight of parenting lightened knowing I wasn’t the only parent who…

  • yelled at my children and regretted it profoundly seconds after
  • colored my gray roots at home out of a box
  • cursed at Siri when she doesn’t listen
  • never checked pockets before doing laundry
  • considered cereal dinner
  • took apart the washing machine, found the penny bonking around, and ended up with extra screws when reassembling
  • stayed up way too late listening to our children’s worries that only bubbled up at bedtime
  • wiped the tears from our children’s eyes, and our own when their hearts were broken
  • prayed our children would find their best friend
  • forgot to pick up their child at school/practice/Sunday School
  • delivered their child’s forgotten homework to school
  • bought bras at Costco (“one size fits most”)
  • panicked about working after years of staying home with the kids
  • clutched onto their children –  as someone who is way too young died in a car accident, from a health complication, or God forbid — inside their school.

Our children are now all in college, but the bonds with those parents from the little league field, mountain biking trails, pool, and dance studio have stayed strong. Simply allowing ourselves to be transparent, and investing in relationships makes us better parents. It takes pluck to be vulnerable, but there is courage in the imperfect, strength in sharing, and certainty in the uncertain.

Dig Deep:  Time your run (or walk briskly), then challenge yourself to do the same thing faster tomorrow.

Lenten Challenge:  “Give feet to your faith”. Feed the hungry, pray for the sick, and share your grace with everyone who crosses your path.

Pope Health Update: VATICAN CITY, March 7 (Reuters) – Three weeks to the day after being admitted to Rome’s Gemelli hospital, Pope Francis is still struggling to shake off the double pneumonia that has battered his already fragile health.

Please pray for the Pope.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

“There’s some really bad parenting going on…”

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#32 Lenten Reflections

A friend told me a story about her daughter coming home from college for Thanksgiving one year. She said upon her return, she noticed her daughter must have been taking some sort of psychology class as she was constantly “observing” her two younger siblings and how they interacted with their parents. Using her newly gained college acumen, she approached her mom and said, “There’s some really bad parenting going on here.” Ouch.

After hearing this, I thought of some of my not-so-stellar mom moments and a few not-so-bad moments mixed in…

The moment you realize…you’re at the shoe store and your child’s feet are a size 6 and they are wearing a size 3. Oops and Ouch.

The moment you realize…you washed your favorite shirt in a load of rags and now you’re cleaning the bathroom floor with it.

The moment you realize…you told your child (a little too loudly) not to “hold going to the bathroom” at a sleepover because he “WILL get a stomach ache”.

The moment you realize…you’ve just remade every bed in your home even though they were already “made” by your children.

The moment you realize…your parents were right when they said to always live within your means.

The moment you realize…your daughter has grown two inches, you’ve already hemmed her orchestra dress, and the concert is tonight.

The moment you realize…your parents were pretty cool to show up to every game, concert, 4-H event and so much more.

The moment you realize…you’re singing along loudly to the School House Rock CD in the car and no kids are present.

The moment you realize…your child has holes in his socks and he’s figured out the fold-and-tuck method to make them work.

The moment you realize…your child says, “Now that I’m in 3rd grade, can I call you Mom instead of Mama?” and you say “Um, No.”

The moment you realize…you are price matching at Publix.

The moment you realize…you’re at the orthodontist so often you get irritated when another parent is sitting in your seat. Rude.

The moment you realize…you won’t leave the house without a coupon.

The moment you realize…you want to make change for a $20 bill in the collection basket at church.

The moment you realize…you just yelled “Don’t forget to say your prayers!!” to your 7th grader who is standing at the bus stop with 10 other kids.

Perfection is overrated.

Spiritual Journey of the day – embrace all your imperfections.

Thanks for joining me,

❤️Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Parents, you are dismissed

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#16 Lenten Reflections

Today at my son’s game the pitcher’s mom arrived as her son finished warming up for the first pitch of the game. Flustered, she asked if she missed anything. My friend and I who are weathered moms and loaded with mom empathy, reassured her she was right on time and she didn’t miss a bit of her son pitching. Her shoulders dropped in relief as she looked up and saw her son throw the first pitch. The ball was hit and off it went over the center field fence. A home run. Oh s#$#! she said. We both said we were so sorry. Then she replied to the us and perhaps the universe, “It’s okay. That’s what happens, you just have to stay positive and get through the hard times. That’s what I tell my son.” Wow, she’s a calmer mom than I…she gathered her chair, leather bag with a baseball blanket sticking out, and her water bottle and headed off to cheer on her son. Clearly, not her first rodeo.

I mulled over the mom’s applause-worthy reaction and the role parents play as we wedge ourselves into our children’s activities, both financially and emotionally. Whether it’s a field or court, rink, track, or diamond, being a parent of an athlete is exhilarating and exhausting. Lord knows as hard as it is sometimes, we clearly don’t want to miss a moment of it, but sometimes we should probably consider stepping away to exhale.

Exhilarating for kids

Think about it. Sports are amazing for kids. The skill-building is endless. Teamwork, communication, winning losing, and having fun even through the rough moments. On my son’s team, they have to throw on their rain boots and transfer gallons of water off the baseball field tarp after a big rain…boom! Hard work! In the off-season, they show up at 5:30 every morning to workout as a team. Committment! Endless practice and extra hours at the batting cage build up their Dedication. They even print reminders on the back of their workout shirts like “Earn it!” or “Good Enough Needs Improvement!” just in case they forget they learned these priceless skills and must have them at the ready 24/7.

Exhausting for us

It’s all fun games until our kid is up to bat or on the blocks, that’s when the stress flows like the Ganges, but Mother Theresa is nowhere in sight to keep us grounded. Will they hit the ball? Will they reach for the wall first on the 100 freestyle? Will they return the serve? As parents we let ourselves live and die with every pitch, play, or punt. And how about the times when our kids sit on the bench? Or get disqualified? Or come in last? Or get replaced with a pinch hitter? Our hearts race and a steady stream of steam blows out of our ears.

As parents, we have no control…so will rituals help?

Call them superstitions, old wives’ tales, or a touch of Feng Shui, whatever the term, parents and any passionate fans have their reasons why they sit in a certain spot, wear a lucky shirt, or take the same route to the game. We truly think we are that powerful. Personally, I sometimes think filming our son while batting will lead him to strike out. Or if I yell something clever, like “Take a deep breath or Be aggressive!” That will send the ball soaring. But I have to do it every time if he hits or not at all if he doesn’t. I also know I will never wear my blue tank top with an American flag on it to a game because the last time I wore it, my son got hit in the eye with a ball. Call it crazy, or love, or ritualistic – mainly crazy.

There’s a funny story I read about a pitcher’s mom who, for years would pace behind bleachers, and cross her fingers while her son was on the mound. Once she actually kept her foot on a cooler for an entire game because her son’s team started losing when she took it off. She also was known to move people in the stands back to the seats they had when her team was winning or to new ones when they were losing. After all of the foot-holding on coolers and directing musical chairs, she finally decided the best way to truly relax at a game is to know you can’t do anything to change the lineup, the score, or the outcome of the game. It’s all up to the players and coaches- even though we don’t always agree with them.

I think back to when our kids were playing soccer and all the players took turns at goalie. Goalie. The last line of defense with a bunch of seven-year-olds charging for them. I could feel my heart race, my voice get louder, and my frantic pace speed up. Same if they pitch or have to kick a penalty shot or are the last leg of a race. Somehow, I make it about me. But these are not our games to play. They never are. We are their ride Home.

Parents, you are dismissed.

Sometimes we need to step off the sideline, climb down from the bleachers, fold up our chairs, and walk away. Some may feel living through their kids’ sporting events is an indicator of parental awesomeness. Gotta catch my son’s game, it’s waaay out in Canton. The bike race is at 7:00 am, and we’ll be leaving at 5:00 a.m! On a Saturday!

Author, Daniel Pink says “Compared to other parts of our children’s lives, sports are bizarrely parent-centric. We don’t gather in the back of algebra class and watch students solve quadratic equations. In music dance and theater, we don’t attend every single practice, lesson and rehearsal. We just show up for an occasional performance, keep our mouths shut and applaud like crazy when it’s over.” Imagine.

What I learned:

We throw out kids into “games of failure” like baseball and only want to see success. Any sign of struggle and we think we have to keep our children afloat, pushing bright orange water wings onto their arms. One for confidence and strength, the other for resilience and faith. But they float on without them and us.

Maybe if we remember sports are about the stories they tell and the friends they make and simply be their biggest fans in the crowd or from the car, waiting for them to tell you all about it. Good luck with that…

P.S.: To the level-headed pitcher’s mom – you should really stay. He did really well after the home run.

Thanks for joining me,

❤️Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Connecting with Mom and Dad

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#3 Lenten Reflections

Tonight I dialed my parent’s cell phone to check in. As the youngest and furthest away from them I have few tasks other than feeling guilty that I am so far away. So tonight it was my job to make sure they ate their dinner. My sister had sent a picture of the roast, potatoes, and carrots she had left and all I had to do was remind them to eat. The first attempt to call ended with a lot of ringing and no response. Then I called the land line knowing out of nostalgia and habit, they usually pick this one up. Dad with a cheery, “Hola!” or “Howdy!” hoping whoever is calling has a lot of time to chat, or Mom with a stern “Hello” – an edge in her voice that says – I may be older, but don’t you dare try to scam me into giving you any personal information or money!

“¡Hola!” dad bellowed. “Luc-did you just call Mom’s little iPad? She was playing Solitaire and we heard it ringing.”

“I did!” I said loudly, joining Dad’s energetic banter.

“Can you call it again?” Dad asked. “Sure thing Dad”. “Thanks!” He said. I called again and there they were – well all I could see was the top of Mom’s freshly permed white hair and half of Dad’s face. But I loved it.

Dad started in, “Wow! Look at that picture! Nice and big! How did you call the iPad? Luc, can I pick up the cell phone and use that for the call too?” Dad was curious, always trying to figure out how things worked, and loving the fact that they could see a big picture. “It’s all connected” I explained. “All the devices will respond when someone calls if you’re using them.” He seemed satisfied with my not-so-technical answer and continued, “So what’s going on there? How’s your weather?”

I caught them up on the kids – the boys popped into the room to say hi to them and they commented on Zavier’s curly hair. Mom said, “You used to have hair like that Dad!” Dad chimed in, “When I HAD hair!” Then I pointed out Dexter’s new mustache. “He’s already shaving?” asked Dad. “He’s 19,” I told him. “Hmm, was I shaving at 19?” He asked himself.

We went back and forth for a bit and I asked if they ate. “Did we eat, Dad?” Mom asked. “We ate a late lunch.” He confirmed. “And you know mom, she eats 5,000 bowls of cereal in the morning. Then we eat a big lunch and snack for dinner.” Mom confirmed. “Yes, Lucretia, I guess we already ate.”

“Okay, well I’m in charge of reminding you to eat dinner. I have a picture of what you have to eat.” Dad jumped in, “What is it?” I pulled up the picture – “looks like roast, potatoes, and carrots…yum!”

“Okay,” Dad said, “Just tell the girls we ate. Maybe we’ll have some Cheerios.” Mom jumped in, “Yes! Dad just discovered he loves the Honey Nut Cheerios so now I have to share.” They went on to tell a story about a bent-up box of Cheerios they got at the Commissary for $2.00. My hubby Justin suggested they might want to “bend” some other boxes and try and get them at a discount also. Dad said he was thinking the same thing. Mom interjected saying, “Well we were planning on going to heaven, but I’m not sure about it if we will now.” We all chuckled and Mom said her stomach would be sore from all the laughing.

Always melancholy at the end of our conversations, I said – “Alright, don’t forget to eat! And Dad, take your medicine. (Dad tends to put all the medicine in his shirt pocket and carry them around all day, considering this his way of “taking them”.)

You need your multivitamin, your eye stuff, and the baby Aspirin. Always the jokester Dad said, “I can’t hear her anymore, can you Mom?”

“Daaaad! You stinker!” I said laughing.

We signed off, “Love you mija, time to light the fireplace.” Dad said.

“Love you, say hi to everyone,” Mom said calmly.

“Bye guys, I love you.” – I blew a kiss and made a loud kissing sound hoping somehow they felt my love for them coming through that little iPad that not only can be used for Solitaire but also talking to us. I’ll remind them again the next time they answer my call on it, as I always do. I sat back on the couch praying there would be many more calls ahead. Because every day is better after talking to them.

What I learned:

I share this story because this is my takeaway from the day. This conversation. Yes, out of the 1,440 minutes in one day, the 30 minutes on the phone with Mom and Dad will keep me optimistic and give me comfort knowing I have these two people still out there rooting for me, laughing with me, and even though they are forgetting to drink their Pedialyte and can’t remember their neighbor’s name, they still know who I am, their youngest gal. What a blessing they are.

It is so worth it to take the time to talk, listen, and share with people. Especially the ones who make you feel loved.

Also, take the time to pray. For yourself. For everyone. Pray for the family who just lost their son to a freak accident on the football field, pray for the second grader who just found out her little sister has leukemia, pray for the single mom who just lost her job and is starting from scratch, pray for the guy driving the Camaro who cut you off this morning, pray for those who appear to be happy but you just know that somewhere in their heart they are ailing.

Remember to take at least 30 minutes today (out of 1440) and exercise, pray, and connect.

Thank you for joining me,

~Lucretia