Tag: life

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

One Mom’s March Madness

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #15 – Motherhood — the moments, the madness, the profound joy, the heart-breaking sorrows

A few years ago, on a Friday night, we went to a local pizza place, sat in our regular booth, chatted, and stared up at the outdated TVs, watching any team play basketball. It was March Madness, and with so many teams playing, the stakes and drama were high—it was truly a basketball binge-watching dream for fans.

That night, I watched the teenage workers pace back and forth delivering pizzas to booths, clearing tables, and refilling their clear cups with colorful flavors at the soda fountain machine. I saw a new employee stop and stare at one of the screens, riveted. I looked up. Wrestling? What? I hadn’t seen wrestling since high school…and on a March Madness night? It turned out it wasn’t just any match, it was the Division 1 Wrestling championships, and Iowa’s three-time national champion, Spencer Lee, was in the depths of competing for a chance at a possible fourth straight title. In the end, however, Lee lost the semi-finals to Matt Ramos from Purdue, cementing one of the most historical upsets in D1 wrestling.

Why did it matter to me? Spencer’s mom…

As notable as the loss, Spencer Lee’s mom was shown reacting to her son’s defeat. As soon as the referee lifted the winner’s arm (which was NOT attached to her son), Lee’s mom tore her glasses off her face and smashed them in her hands, not one, not two, but three times, hurling them to the floor.

Now that’s mad! Mad at the ref? The opponent? Her son?

Or is it passion? Or sadness? Or frustration?

My mind reeled. Sometimes as parents, we are overly invested emotionally and financially in our children’s activities, sports, and school progress. That is to say, we may fail to recall who is swinging the bat, writing the essay, swimming the mile, and solving the equation. Hint: It’s not us…something I forget quite often. Our (sometimes unreasonable) expectations of what our kids can and should do are crystal clear in our minds: run faster, pitch harder, and study smarter. Easy for us to say.

Is it the “happiness” we want for our kids?

The joy of winning the race or getting into their number one college? I suppose the accomplishment is kinda like a Prime package at our doorstep where underneath the bubble wrap sits all the justification you need for your investment of time, money, and heartache. Of course until the next thing and the next.

Perhaps, as parents, we conflate passion and perfectionism.

Let’s face it, seeking perfection is a fool’s errand. We are all messy and cluttered and muddling through the days. Maybe the lesson here is that sometimes other kids are going to do a lot better than our own kids on the field or in the classroom. Sounds like real life doesn’t it?

I recently read about Esther Wojcicki, author of “How to Raise Successful People”. She is best known as the “Silicon Valley’s godmother” and mom to three very successful daughters: Susan, the former CEO of YouTube, Anne, co-founder and CEO of 23andMe, and Janet, a professor at UC San Francisco. By implementing her parenting philosophy, which Esther refers to as TRICK: trust, respect, independence, collaboration, and kindness, she feels she was able to raise capable, successful children. As far as being a parent, Wojcicki suggests focusing on your behavior. She says, “Parenting gives us perhaps the most profound opportunity to grow as human beings.”

What I learned this week:

Real life is all I know. Real joy, real feelings, real pain. Sundays I sit at church and gaze at the Stations of the Cross on the walls, and I see our own journeys to Calvary. Falling some days, getting up the next. Being carried and lifted, scorned and loved. Some days we need to carry each other on the path. Mr. Rogers’ mother used to tell him in times of tragedy, Grace will always show up in the helpers. Be the helper. Be there for the mom who hurls her glasses, the kid who misses the fly ball, and your own child who needs your presence, not your commentary. Not today anyway.

Here’s to Another Good Day!

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Mom’s Dementia

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

40 Reflections – #12:  40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

I’m not sure when we transitioned from the word “forgetting” to Dementia when referring to Mom’s sweet mind. “My memory is not so great anymore,” she’ll say. My three sisters and I learned tips to lessen her pain of not remembering. Things like: Don’t start a sentence with “Remember when…” or ask”What did you eat for breakfast?” or “How many teaspoons of salt in tortillas?” It’s a process. My sisters are pros; I, on the other hand, plop in for intermittent visits and say the wrong things, but in that sense, dementia will work its black magic and present her mind with a clean slate.

I wrote a few quick essays about my most recent trips to see my parents, which I’ll share here. They are simply passing moments in my experience with them. Now 86 and 89 years old, they have been married 65 years next month. I reminded them separately of the milestone date, and they both had the same reaction, “That’s all!!!!?”

Here’s to Another Good Day with Mom and Dad

Wednesday 11:00 pm –

I arrived home late, too late for Mom to understand it was me, so I led with my blanket line, “It’s your daughter Lucretia”. I realized there was a good chance she was too exhausted to get it because sleep is critical for every age and in all functioning. They were clearly exhausted. Dad was trying to run out and give our friends who picked me up from the airport carne seca (jerky), but they had already headed home. Dad just wants to thank and give and be a part of the world. When your mind rarely rests, like his, activity and social stimulation are healing.

It’s sobering helping your mom figure out which end of the toothbrush gets the paste because now toothbrushes are huge or helping her find the back of her PJs. This is the same mom who could solve the puzzle of Simplicity sewing patterns, notches, and all. She could sew anything, measure, adjust, and add zippers, ruffles, and sleeves with ease. She’s my hero. She wanted 10,000 times more of what she had for us. And by God, she made it happen. Looking back, I bet with every application she typed (real-deal typed) for us, whether for a college, scholarship, award, or 4-H whatever, she probably thought, you know what, these girls are going to devour this world and spit it out when they are done. Totally crush it. 

What I learned:

Dementia stinks. But I am so grateful for every visit to see my parents.

Here’s to Another Good Day – even the tough ones.

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia


Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

What lies under our piles of worry?

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

(Spoiler Alert: It’s Love)

40 Reflections – #11:  40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

Lately, I’ve been worrying about stuff. Mom stuff, kid stuff, work stuff, parent stuff. As a cock-eyed optimist, I try to focus on only worrying about 8-10 things at once. It’s not easy when my mind spins like a kid on a Ferris wheel who just ate 3 funnel cakes. A little joyful a little nauseous. I worry about retirement, Medicaid, cholesterol, my parents, taxes, heaven, hell, you name it. A new worry is what if it’s my time to go and God is in a cranky mood and brings up that trigonometry test I may or may not have cheated on and still got a C?

At work, first graders are constantly worried about equal turns, cheating, and name-calling and think if they holler “It’s not fair!” all things will go their way. Maybe if we voiced our qualms like kids and yelled our fears into a megaphone the world would nod aggressively in agreement, give a thumbs up, and you’ll say “Aha! I knew I wasn’t alone!”

What I learned:

Worries are valid, but after all the worrying, you move forward, listen to John Lennon sing about everything being okay in the end, take one step, then another, and breathe. You slow down.

You find that when the wall of worry falls brick by brick, underneath it all sat love waiting patiently…and you saved it from being smothered.

Ending with a favorite…

Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, is not pompous,
it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own
interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood
over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but
rejoices with the truth.
It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things,
endures all things.
Love never fails.
1 Corinthians 12:31-13:8a

Here’s to Another Good Day.

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Angels Among Us

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#9 – Lenten Reflections – 40 Raw reflections during the Lenten Season

A few weeks ago I went to visit my parents. I’m the youngest of four girls and my parents, now 86 and 89 require more caretaking these days. Before I left, I let my students know I was going for a few days to take care of my parents. As always, I tried to weave a life lesson into why I needed to go. I excel in overexplaining.

I began, “You see your parents take care of you now and then someday when they get older, you’ll take care of them. Also, my mom is having cataract surgery.” Suddenly there were a few connections to the word surgery. “Ohhhh…my mom had surgery on her knee!”

“My dog had special surgery too! Wait, what is surgery?”

“Can we play the chair game or do a scavenger hunt?”

The subject change sounded a lot like my own children’s strategy. Abort! Eject! Way too much information. I lost them in the life lesson.

Maybe some of the first graders were listening…either way, they knew where I’d be out for a few days. I’m sure they jotted it on their Google calendars. Ha.

After my return to school, class began like any other Monday. First grade came in bustling, loud, and joyful. As the kids took off their jackets and found their spots on the rug, Reagan, a bright-eyed girl, strode over, looked directly at me, and asked, “How are your parents?”

Tears welled up in my eyes. I was floored by her sincerity. I hugged her, thanked her, and told her they were doing well. They are just older. But I’m so lucky to have them. “Oh good,” she said. I spoke to her like I would an old confidant. One of those gem friends where you can pick up right where you left off. An angel with a high ponytail wearing a plaid skirt and a blue polo shirt.

Reagan skipped off, plopped down on the carpet and immediately reached over to the friend next to her and began tying his shoes for him. Another boy chimed in, “She ties mine too. I mean my dad is trying to teach me at home but Reagan ties mine here.”

I shook my head and thought, wow…this six-year-old has more love in her heart than I’ve witnessed in years. Thank God for the Reagans in the world.

What I learned:

Some people, no matter their age see a great need. They load up bottles of water in their cars and hand them to the thirsty, one soul at a time.

They start small. Maybe check on a friend, listen to someone’s story, tie a shoe.

Simple gifts are empathy. Simple gifts are healing. Simple gifts mean never leaving anyone out. Jesus didn’t. Even Judas got a place at the table.

Here’s to another good day. Please pray for a quick recovery for the Pope.

Thank you for joining me,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Cultivating Selflessness

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#2 Lenten Reflections

The other day I was waiting to board my flight to Atlanta and overheard an anxious young woman discuss her seat location with her husband. She held a frothy coffee in one hand and phone in the other, and nervously said, “The agent said I’d have to wait until I was on the plane to change seats. I let her know I just can’t sit in an exit row. Not with all the recent flight accidents. It’s not my turn, I am not the person to sit in that seat…not this time.” I watched as her husband sat silently, nodding in agreement.

I settled into the comfy, leather-like seat at the Albuquerque airport and pondered her words. “It’s not my turn.” I applauded her honesty and clarity in knowing what she could and could not handle. But when is it our turn? When do we raise our hands to help another, give the Heimlich maneuver to someone choking, or save the child running into the road? Are some people just innately selfless?

Richard Lui, is a journalist and author of  Enough About Me: The Unexpected Power of Selflessness where he explored self-sacrifice as he cared for his father with Alzheimer’s. Along with practicing acts of kindness and showing gratitude, Lui recommends building selflessness muscles. Muscle memory is what helps us remember how to swing a bat or ride a bike. So training your brain to choose others over yourself will build up your selflessness muscles.

My Connection…

Years ago, one of my three older sisters retired from her job after 30 years as a software engineer to care for our parents. She didn’t take a big trip around the world to celebrate her successful career or become a master gardener, she and her husband simply sold their home and moved closer to Mom and Dad. All four of us pitch in, but as the primary caretaker, she is the driver, the contact for the doctors, the shopper, the organizer, the constant in their lives that brings them the comfort of knowing they can make it through today and tomorrow. I have never known someone so incredibly selfless and generous. There are 53 million Americans who are caretakers in the United States, and she is one of those saints who has a special place in heaven just for her.

So whether you’re ready to brave the exit row today or on your next flight, give a little bit of yourself.

Pope Health Update: According to the Vatican, he “remained stable compared to previous days” and did not have “episodes of respiratory insufficiency”. Please pray for him.

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

There are no stupid questions, but I have a few…    

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#38 Lenten Reflections

When the kids were growing up I would hear a barrage of questions:

Does rain have poopy? Can we go get a kickstand for my bike and go bowling? Is he drinking the milk you drank? (While breastfeeding) Is the castle at Disney World as big as 1,000 houses? Is there a baseball ride at Disney? Why isn’t there an eleven-dollar bill? Can I use my underwear as a football helmet? I know Santa is real, but what is Rudolph doing?

The face of a child asking questions lights up with a beaming sense of wonder and awe. As parents, we do our best to answer, but we’re tired, and our own wonder and awe are waning. However, I was determined to be a responsive listener even for the most repetitive of their curiosities. Honestly.

So it was with a great sense of shock that I discovered how exasperating my own innocent questions were when directed at my teenage children. In the early teenage years, my probing was met with a cold silence, a sassy word, or blatant disgust. Eventually, I learned to play the teenage conversation chess game. This is when you plan four or five moves ahead and try to forecast where the exchange will go.

Turns out my inquiry creativity is sad. Here are some examples that did not go so well…

How was the test? (Apparently, I assume all tests are graded immediately and my kids have strong feelings about how they went. At the epitome of my naivete, I also thought they wanted to talk about those tests. Especially about “what they got wrong”.)

Do you have homework? (They always have homework and I am reminded it’s not MY homework)

So what DO you think you’ll major in? (Never. Ever ask this. If you do, and they have an answer respond with: “Great idea!”)

Where are you thinking of going to college? (This question should be avoided for every teenager…my daughter was so tired of this question that she yelled in a storm of fury across the kitchen, “If anyone asks what I’m doing after high school, tell them I’m taking FIVE GAP YEARS!!!!!!”)

How was practice? (Unless there is concussion protocol in order, this question will get a “Good” although it depends on the child.)

Everyone show up to swim/the meeting/the race/the scrimmage/dinner? (A stock question I’ve asked since Cora took dance lessons at age six – and I still ask…honestly, does it really matter if everyone showed up?) 

What does this say (fine print)? (This is a fair question, be ready for the eye roll) I haven’t been able to read a medicine bottle for several years without one of the 9 pairs of Costco glasses I have misplaced, so I instead ask one of my kids. “How much does it say to take?” They usually are very careful reading, especially when they are the ones that are sick.

What do you guys want for dinner? (Completely rhetorical question) Unless the kids are planning on shopping, cooking, and serving, there’s no shot I’m looking for an answer. I’m simply outlining my plan aloud, and checking to make sure I have kale. (poor kids)

OR – As soon as there is a lull in a conversation, I fill the silence with logistical questions:

When is the game?

When is the test?

Where is the meet?

When is the paper due?

What time should we show up?

Should we not come? 

Should we leave at 6:00?

If we arrive at 8:30, the race is at 10:00, while we wait, should you work on your project? Maybe fill out two scholarship forms and apply for three summer jobs? 

I know, I’m exhausting. Imagine BEING me. Luckily my youngest son, the one who had soooo many questions as a little guy and never stopped saying, “Mama, mama, mama, mama” is now at age 18, quite patient. He has fewer questions and I have so many. Now I understand why he limits his responses to “no” or “yes” or “I’m good.” As the school year dwindles, he has added: “Please stop asking so many questions.” He’s the only kiddo at home now, so we exchange mercy and grace freely. Understandably he loves it when his brother and sister are home to take their turn listening to me.

Every now and then I try to be like a potted plant in the background on standby, but other times, well, I’m coming in hot and you’re going to get an onslaught of questions. But they won’t be about homework or practice or even Santa and Rudolph.

What I learned:

Listen when they talk. Stop everything. Everything.

Focus on…

The now. 

Right now.

This moment. 

Thanks for joining me,

❤️Lucretia

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

Lost teeth = Kid Trophies

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#27 Lenten Reflections

I’m betting at most schools it’s tooth season. To a kid under ten, a wiggly tooth or a lost tooth is like a tiny trophy. So recently, to help my students celebrate their toothy triumphs, IF they can tell me they have a wiggly or lost a tooth in Spanish, they can write their names on a poster in the classroom. It’s kind of like graffiti for kids. If you’re five or six years old and can slap your name on a poster with a fat Sharpie, it’s a BIG deal.

This took me back to when our daughter’s teeth seemed almost cemented into her mouth.

In August 2009, our daughter realized something was happening to her tooth. She was seven years old, and most days, our walk home from the bus included at least one story about a friend losing a tooth, and the coveted sparkly tooth necklace they toted home. Finally, she had a loose tooth and she was going to get it out!

In various attempts to loosen her tooth, she wiggled it with two fingers, then tried the single-finger jiggle, and soon discovered her tongue could enlist her tooth to dance. Like most kids under 10, she hoped her tooth would fall out at school where lost tooth recipients received a free trip to the nurse’s office, where the tooth holder necklaces were stashed in the bottom file drawer. Later that day, much to her dismay, the tooth fell out while playing with her brothers on the backyard lawn. The tooth was found, placed in a homemade tooth necklace, and was set gently under her pillow that night. Note: Our Tooth Fairy was frequently “off duty” on the nights the teeth were waiting to be replaced by a gold dollar or a $2 bill.

Fast forward eight years. Waiting for Cora’s teeth to fall out was like watching paint dry. They held on tight. Some things just need to happen naturally, we thought…until talk of “small jaws” was slipped into the description of our children’s mouths. Awe. Sounds cute. But then, much like a baton passed in the 400 relay, a little piece of paper from the dentist was handed to us encouraging orthodontia services. After googling ‘orthodontia’ my first thought was, “Who even uses that word?” And second, I realized all the chatter about braces was true. These metal wonders cast a wide net. Everyone from ages 7-60 were donning colorful mouths, and pockets filled with teeny rubber bands, special floss, and disposable toothbrushes. All were welcome for the low low price of $5,000-ish.

So without looking back (not sure why), we picked the best (aka – most economical) orthodontist we could find. A gem of a man, Dr. McLendon understood my matter-of-factness when I told him we did NOT want the multi-round plan. That’s when kids get braces right after they kick the diaper habit, give their mouths a break while they learn to walk, and then jump back into the metal molds by grade school. Perhaps a slight exaggeration. We settled on the standard package with a 5% discount when paid in full, and as many “free” tiny containers of floss as you can “acquire” upon exiting.

Once we paid our admission for the braces roller coaster, our trips to the orthodontist were more frequent than our Costco runs. Maybe it’s just me, but either kid’s teeth are growing in looking as haphazard as the megalithic monument Stone Henge, or impeccable, movie star teeth are now the norm. Have you seen anyone under 40? They all have beautiful pearly whites.

Back Then…

Growing up in the 70’s, our family dentist, Dr. Johnston had a hardy laugh and reading glasses permanently perched on the tip of his nose as he peered into our small-jawed mouths (oh, genetics). While we waited, my sisters and I marked up the well-loved stack of Highlights and heard rave reviews of “no cavities!” hollered boisterously from the back of the office. We’d happily head home, and Mom would mark the calendar for six months when we’d see our jolly dentist again.

You see, back then, moms like mine possessed the orthodontist superpower. This braces radar, or “BRADAR” was so powerful, that with one glance at their children’s smiles, they could determine whether they truly needed braces. 9/10 times, the answer was no. Sometimes, moms could transfer these stellar abilities to their children and let them decide whether they wanted braces or not. Brilliant. Was the word orthodontia mentioned? Never.

In today’s world, orthodontia is as common as watching YouTube for a DIY project, or a funny cat video, so buckle up – the braces train is coming!

Thanks for joining me,

❤️Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Words connect and carry us

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #27

As I get older, I’ve heard the line, “I’m becoming my mother” more and more from my friends. “Me too” I concur. The way she rolls her tortillas in just one direction, or nods off in her chair. The way she fights for her family above all and the way she pounds her chest in a mea culpa at mass.

Luckily I was blessed with a mom who nourished us with love and common sense. She measures her words like a baker uses a knife to smooth the flour across a measuring cup, precisely and without an ounce of overflow. If Mom says it, she means it. One of the many traits I’ve picked up from Mom is threading “dichos” or sayings in my conversations.

So on one of my recent visits home with my parents, I made a list of all the Spanish and some “Spanglish” sayings they use. The one new phrase that resonated with me was: “Son los años compadre.” This means: it’s the years, my friend. This is used to assuage their frustration when they can’t remember where they set their glasses or are disappointed because they are tired after doing a fraction of the yard work they used to do. So they sit on the patio exhausted and say “Son los años compadre” like a confession – an exhale – a declaration: we’re getting older, let’s have a seat in the shade, drink some Gatorade and rest.

Aging takes its toll on all of us. First thing in the morning my Dad will say, “Come on body! Join me!” My mom lovingly teases Dad about his arthritis in his hands as the tip of his index finger points south. “Watch Dad point,” she tells me chuckling…it’s always something on the ground he needs.”

Their routine continually changes, zipping around in the truck to run several errands, and detouring to yard sales just doesn’t happen anymore. They still spend much of the day working in the yard which they are so grateful for, yet the amount of work wanes with the years. “We feel like if the sun is out, we should be out,” says Dad. So they plant and prune, check on each other, feed the cranes, rearrange the woodpile, take apart anything that has metal and can be recycled, and breathe in the fresh air.

Once back inside, the aches and pains kick in, and through all the “Ay, yai, yai’s” I can hear Mom say, “Son los años compadre.”

Dad replies, “Yo se, pura ay, yai, yai.” (I know all I say is ay, yai, yai).

They have a good laugh, another glass of water, Pedialyte, or Boost, rest, and watch the hummingbirds buzz around like they used to and drink their fill of sweet water.

Quotes I love:

My father’s wit, and my mother’s tongue, assist me!

Shakespeare – Love’s Labour’s Lost

Thanks for joining me,

❤️Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

I knew every moment of their day…now it’s all in a text

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#21 Lenten Reflections

I was scrolling through the first 200-plus(!) pages of a journal I kept when the kids were little, and happened upon a daily schedule I drafted for Cora and Dexter when they were one and two years old.

I drafted it in preparation for the arrival of our third member of the “Irish triplets”. I had folded the onesies, unpacked the sun-faded baby Bjorn, scoured the toilets, and read “I’m a big sister/brother” books ad nauseam. Our cozy 1,400-square-foot townhome in Falls Church, VA was dusted, decorated, and definitely ready for Zavier. I pretended I was ready like I do before big things happen, but the unknown was as terrifying as it was terrific.

Luckily, our dear neighbors agreed to take care of our kids while I got a “night off” – I was excited about the hospital in Arlington where our charming Dr. Crowther from England was waiting for us. Her posh, polite voice sounded like the queen was monitoring my contractions. “Looks all good so far…Nice weather innit? Back in a jiffy”.

Here’s a snippet of what I left the neighbors…looking back I was amazed at how I knew every moment of the kid’s day…

Back then…I was pretty detailed.

I knew Cora loved peas and Dexter would forcefully spit out his sweet potatoes. I knew their favorite water bottles (yellow with red lids), and I memorized all the best books on repeat: Go! Dog! Go! “One big dog going…” –UP! “One little dog going…” –DOWN!

Then I blinked.

Literally, blinked, and off they went to school one by one and other people started guiding and teaching them stuff. Outside influencers! All I knew was what I sent them to school with and the “suggested” supply lists were loaded with things like Clorox Wipes, pencil pouches, and Skittles aka “smart pills” for good behavior. Let’s just say the Skittles did not make it to school. I was THAT mom who sent stickers instead. Soon you are simply picking up and dropping them off, reminding, yelling, and then listening before bed. As parents, we know everything if they talk to us or ask way too many questions if they don’t. Little by little I knew less and less of their lives.

Now… I don’t even know the classes they take and just learned their majors. When anyone/Dad asks me excitedly “How many hours are the kids carrying this semester?” I take a guess “Probably fifteen”.

Dad is their biggest fan, “Fifteen?! Well, that’s enough! They are workers! And their grades, holy toledo! I was happy getting a C in accounting and these kids are getting A’s!”

Back then, I knew their moods:

Now…I get glimpses into their days…a sunrise, or a note to say they are exhausted or have poison ivy, back pain, or a paper due.

They say good night…

Send mascara recommendations…

And sometimes they even take care of me and I get sweet messages like this:

What I learned:

As our children grow up, it is like watching a Polaroid photo develop slowly…letting a little light in as it begins to show the outline of a shape on the paper. You shake and shake that photo then realize that is what you have left, what you are holding in your hands. But this is how this goes? Every day with someone for 18 solid years and this is the ending?

But it gets better and I remember what wonderful Gabriel Garcia Marquez said:

“Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mother gives birth to them. Rather, life obliges them over and over to give birth to themselves.”

  • ❤️Then
  • Now❤️