Tag: #Parenting

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Holding on to Childhood by a Thread

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#20 Lenten Reflections

I wrote this years ago -I hope you enjoy it.

Since my son, Dexter was 16 months old, he loved laying his head on anything to rest. One day he raced over to where I was feeding his baby brother, Zavier. Dexter did the quick toddler stop and rested his head on my lap. At the moment, I had a burp cloth ready for after the feeding, but when I reached down to use it, my sweet Dexter’s head was resting on top of it, eyes drowsily shutting. He looked perfectly comfortable. So, as all good mothers do, I used my shirt to burp his brother. After that day and for years following, Dexter slept with, traveled, and kept it by his pillow every day.

The duck-printed cloth had been transformed into something special. Dexter’s “Burp”. That’s what we named his buddy. Luckily, when these particular burp cloths were given as a gift — it was a two-pack. So, thinking ahead, I squirreled away the “Back Up Burp” (another named piece of material), just in case “Burp” was lost. (Yes, I saw the movie “Mr. Mom” and knew we should ween him from a security blanket-type appendage. But, we can all agree that despite all the teasing from Lucy, Linus seemed to be just fine with his blue blanket in tow.)

Throughout the years, Burp got lost in the covers, and we’d hunt and shake blankets and pillows, always to find it tucked on the side of the bed, tossed to the floor, or swaddling his stuffed lamb. He found comfort in that little cloth. And quiet. And calm.

Dexter is bright. As a kid, he was the guy that would take apart the engine, and reassemble it flawlessly; find wood, whittle it down, and make whatever was on his mind. He would ask over and over for things his friends had, and finally, just made them himself. Like the trailer for his bike, lacrosse shaft, bow, arrow, quiver, rubber band bracelet loom, paracord bracelets, phyton-type necklace, bike ramp, small car, tent, longboard, holster, a belt fashioned from a bike tire, and, fidgets made from bike chains.

You see like most people, Dexter gets antsy. Call him a kinetic learner, busy, jumpy, or just a fun kid –or you can cram him into the nearly 12% bunch of 12–18-year-old boys who are diagnosed with ADHD. Whatever it is, he’s Dexter. Smart, amazing, and so cognizant of his need to strategize, move, and find comfort in who he is, that “burp” just became a part of him, and us.

As the years passed, Dexter got bigger, and Burp began to get thinner and more waif-like than a potato chip, so I decided I should swap out the old for the new. I was sure most parents and childhood experts would advise against it, perhaps saying I was encouraging a rare “cotton cloth co-dependent behavior.” Despite my thoughts, I reached into my “everything in my pockets at the end of the day” top drawer — pushed aside special rocks, matchbox cars, doll parts, and legos, and in the waaaay back, I pulled out a bright white cloth with yellow ducks ready for their turn in the pond. In its place, I tucked the now fowl-less cloth in the drawer. Truth be told, it was his ninth birthday. Yes, nine. Not months, years.

Fast forward three years — and after prayers one night Dexter holds out what looks like one of my dad’s handkerchiefs I used to iron — and asks, “Mama, will you please fix this?” I looked at Burp, looked back at Dexter, and said, “Of course I will.” After unknotting the frayed edges, soaking, and drying it, I began to sew. I was slowly piecing together each strand, noticing how much smaller it was and thinking about how much bigger Dexter was at the time. I finished and held it up as if it were a priceless quilt. I thought about the many memories in one piece of fabric, so much security, and love. I knew for a boy like Dexter who had been pining to grow up fast, buy the dreaded motorcycle, and play by adult rules, clinging to his childhood was just as important to him. So I thought, — I’ll mend, sew, stitch, and hold together as much of his boyhood as I can, for as long as possible. “Dexter, Burp is ready!” He came in quickly, said thank you, and zoomed out rubbing it on his face.

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

Mi Madrina – Leap-Day Baby 1936

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #13

On February 29, 1936, my Madrina (Godmother), Eddie Laura was born.

Last leap day, February 29, 2020, I called her up on her landline to wish her a happy Leap Year Birthday. She had just turned 84 and she told me she loved her morning walks, going to mass, and her cozy home by the mountains.

One month later, her daughter called me and told me she passed away. It wasn’t COVID nor was she ailing.

She fell. She was alone. I was heartbroken.

As a tribute to her, I revised a piece I wrote in 2020 about her undying love for family, faith, friends, and well, poker.

IMG_1288.jpeg
This is my baby book given to me by my Godparents.

In Leap Year math terms, my Godmother had 21 true birthdays. So Leap Day was especially busy for her. Let’s just say if an angel got their wings every time her phone rang on her true birthday, the halo business would be booming. I was among her callers who sang the traditional Happy Birthday and a few lines of Las Mañanitas, her favorite birthday song.

When I spoke to her last, I updated her on the kids and our treks from swim meets to tennis matches, and then baseball games. In lockstep, she reminded me to enjoy every moment of their childhood, because it goes too fast. “What are their ages?” she asked. When I said, 17, 15, and 14, she jumped in and as if reading from a mom script, said,  “Oh college is coming up, that’s expensive.” She continued, “It’s when they go away that’s hard.” I knew she was referring to the outrageous cost attached to college tuition, but I also knew from our previous conversations that her statement meant more. She was always very candid about being a mom and college approaching meant empty beds, smaller meals to cook, and homes that were way too quiet.

When we would chat, her sing-songy, NM accent reminded me of home and I mirrored it. My kids always say when I come back from Albuquerque I have a strong accent. I tell them it’s just English and Spanish finding their harmony. The beautiful words of Spanglish bring solidarity and trust to our New Mexican culture.

I listened to how Eddie Laura recalled life as a mom…stirring red chili on the stove, flipping tortillas on the comal, sewing, quilting, dancing, and caring for her four children. As she spoke, I could hear how quickly life’s pages turn. One moment, instead of going to baseball games or PTA meetings, you’re headed to airports to pick up your kids who are “just visiting”. I can’t help but think of how she felt that first Sunday morning at church when she didn’t have to look for a large section on a church pew, but instead, was able to slip in at the end of a row because she was alone.

She told me she prays for me every night and every morning. When she said it, I always felt my body relax. Somehow simply knowing that someone who leads with faith was putting in a good word with God for me – made me feel cloaked in love. To me, Eddie Laura was like one of those saints Catholics pray to for everything from gallstones to lost glasses. We know they have our backs. That was my Godmother. I knew her prayers for me were deep, no-nonsense, and true.

When cleaning out her home, my sister and her daughter found lots of little treasures around her home. Chief among them were poker winnings stashed inside a box of quilt pieces. Her daughter told us she always asked her mom how she did at the casino and Eddie Laura would reply, “I’ll never tell.” My Madrina knew what she held close, whether it was cash from playing Blackjack, memories from marrying her high school sweetheart, or the priceless days of raising her children. I was so blessed to have such a loving Godmother.

Feliz Cumpleaños Madrina may you be at peace up in heaven, perhaps dealing a hand of 7-card-stud on that massive Last Supper table. God Bless.

What I learned:

Chances of being born on a leap day are about one in 1,461, according to the BBC. In fact, some astrologers say leap-year babies may possess special talents and luck. I agree. When I look at the picture of the day I was baptized, I think about all my Godmother has taught me…

Cherish time with my family – knowing they will eventually live under different roofs; keep faith at the forefront; and hope our kids will thrive with credence, compassion, and kindness (and always find their way home — I added that one).

Gracias, Madrina.

Thank you for joining me and Happy Leap Day,

❤️Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Darkness and light

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Yesterday at the Easter Vigil mass, Monsignor walked around the Narthex saying, “darkness, darkness, darkness.” He tends to use these mantras often. Sometimes he’ll see a parishioner and repeat their name loudly, “Peter, Peter, Peter!” And follow up by completely enveloping them with strong, loving hugs.

No lights were on in the church, candles were being passed out and the pews filled up slowly. It was similar to the darkness of the closed-up tomb where Jesus’ body lay on Holy Saturday. The stone propped in front of it. Not a sliver of light entered. A dark void.

There are days we too sit in this utterly dark space. Unsure of what tomorrow will bring or why today was filled with angst. Holy Saturday is a reminder of our reality. The beginning and the end. The alpha and the omega. The darkness and the light.

My mom has always been able to walk in the dark. She knows the path, never stumbles, and has faith in her every step. There is strength in the darkness for mom. She is one of the strongest women I know. Speaks her mind and fears very little.

There is that time of evening when the dusk descends uneasy despair in me and I flip every light in the house on, dimmers way up. That middle moment when the darkness steals the light, taking me on journeys back to places and times when fear was at the helm so I push through and focus on the light.

In the book Learning to Walk in the Dark, by author, teacher, and Episcopal priest, Barbara Brown Taylor, she says, “Darkness is shorthand for anything that scares me–either because I am sure that I do not have the resources to survive it or because I do not want to find out.” In her book, she guides us on a journey to understanding darkness — and reminds us of all the times God shows up at night. Because God does.

Some evenings fear is consuming when the darkness arrives. Then I remember, fear is normal. Fear needs breath. Someone said, “Courage is fear that has said its prayers.”

So I embrace courage and say my prayers and thank God for another day and night.

I thank you for joining me on my Lenten journey and hope you will follow me as I tackle my next writing endeavor.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Thank you, Jesus…on Good Friday and every day

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

40 Reflections: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

No. 39

My student teaching took place in a small elementary school plopped right in the middle of Georgetown. A red brick building with old wooden doors and a ton of character. My mentor teacher, Sister Maureen was a kind, quick-witted nun, with the School Sisters of Notre Dame (SSND). The SSND order is a group of educators whose mission is to transform the world through education in the broadest sense. A stellar teacher, Sister Mauren arrived at school early, donning her signature long, pleated skirts paired with either a freshly pressed blouse, or a teacher-themed sweater, a silver cross on a chain laying on her chest.

Sister Maureen was not a traditional habit-wearing nun – she had the pizzazz of Whoppi in Sister Act and the care and open heart of Maria VanTrap. In fact, I have her to thank for introducing me to my handsome, happy husband, a teacher at the same school. During our time teaching together, Sister Maureen taught me two significant life lessons:

Never do anything for a child that they can do for themselves.

Thank Jesus often.

  1. Never do anything for a child that they can do for themselves: We worked with special needs children at the time, and I remember the exact situation when she said this. Matas, a second-grader at the time was packing up his bag and the struggle to fit it all in caused him to yell and become frustrated. I instinctively jumped in and started packing up for him until I felt Sister Maureen tap me on the shoulder and say, “He can do it. Just wait”. After a few minutes, Matas remembered the strategies we had taught him to pack up. First, put in lunch box, next notebooks, and finally place the jacket on top. The smile of independence that ensued was unforgettable.
  2. Thank Jesus often. Anytime a lost jacket, homework, or a document was found, meetings were canceled, or a student finally understood why or how or what, I would hear Sister Maureen say, “Thank you, Jesus!” A proclamation that fit itself perfectly in the nooks and crannies of every day. I worked with Sister Maureen for several months and came out a believer in thanking Jesus, all day.

Typically, my outward cries of “Thank you, Jesus!” come after close calls like just missing the red light camera as I go through the intersection; or my son clearing his concussion test and yes, I know it could have been worse.

I thank Jesus for the plane landing safely, and for my parents having each other. For helping me unfold the emotions of kids moving on and the fear of what they will face. I thank Jesus for carrying them and bringing them home. For convincing the hydrangeas to bloom an extra week, for helping remove the tumor from my friend successfully, and thank you Jesus for the support you surrounded my two friends who lost their husbands in the last month. Thank you Jesus for the job and the scholarship and the frugal soul you built me with. Thank you for friends and siblings who know when to bring soup, or chocolate or wine…and when to agree with you even if you’re unreasonable and crass. Thank you Jesus for faith, for mercy, and for grace.

Thank you Jesus for dying on the cross for us and for your Divine Love.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Why all kids need their thing…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Throwback on Holy Thursday…

I am constantly reminded that kids need their thing. ANYthing. Diving, journaling, football, video gaming. Something that is theirs. Somewhere to build their stories. A destination. Camaraderie. Right now, more than ever, kids need connections — with places, with activity, and with each other.

Here’s my Throwback Thursday Post:

40 Reflections: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

No. 38

Today at work, I walked with a first grader to the classroom. The tousled-hair blonde with sweet, aqua eyes looked down at his untied sneakers and uttered, “I still don’t know how to tie my shoes…I mean, I just don’t have time, you know (dramatic pause) now that I play baseball.” He caught my eye to make sure I fully grasped the play ball part. I gave him an understanding, “I KNOOOW, you’ve got a lot to do!” response and he gave me the kid nod that said, “finally, someone gets it.”

Clearly, he was a busy guy. Way too busy to mess with shoe strings and all that tying. Baseball was his priority now and talking about it made him beam. He wanted to share who he was and by letting me know he was a baseball player, he was pleased with himself and satisfied I heard it from him first.

We all need our thing. Something that drives us. Something that makes us jump out of bed and start the day with a spark. Does it define who we are? Maybe. It certainly tells more of our story.

Ever notice the one question adults ask when they meet your children? 

“What DO you DO?”

When our children were younger, they would say things like, “play outside, build obstacle courses, read The Babysitter Club books.” Or they would say nothing – because being a kid is what they did.

As they got older, sports trickled in and gave them new experiences and opportunities for socializing and developing who they are and what they love.

Growing up for me in the sports world, it was soccer or soccer. As the fourth of four girls, you just follow the pack and my sister who is closest in age to me was a soccer player, therefore, I took my spot on the field as right-wing. My sister and I had two practices a week, ate dinner together, and always went to each other’s games toting sliced oranges and water wearing our reversible orange and white mesh uniforms.

Nowadays, there are so many choices for kids. From soccer to fencing, mountain biking to curling. Practices for us end as late as 9:00 pm. Some nights, dinner is eaten at different times, and homework sits on the back burner simmering patiently. As parents, we feel like we are constantly driving somewhere…but boy do I love it.

Thank God. Thank God they found something they care about and enjoy.

Naturally, over the years our kids have dabbled in a lot to find out what makes them tick. In the process, we’ve had: acoustic guitars, bass guitars, ukeleles, soccer cleats, keyboards, lacrosse goals, baking tools, chorus, piano music, gymnastics, basketball high tops, hockey pucks, baseball gloves, frisbee golf goals, shuttlecocks, tennis rackets, catcher’s gear, football helmets, swim goggles, orienteering shoes, toe shoes, tap shoes, ballet shoes, running shoes, metal cleats, turf cleats, unicycles, mountain bikes, skateboards, Ripsticks, bows, arrows, quivers, fishing rods, dart boards, ping pong balls,  and more I may have forgotten.

I certainly am not complaining. I am so grateful they have WANTED to try so many things and happy we’ve been able to afford them the chance. They’ve settled on (but are not limited to) swimming, baseball, and mountain biking (and now tennis!) plus cello, saxophone, and trumpet…a well-rounded crew.

So let them try. Let them fail. Let them know they have to give it more than a week. Tell them to power through the whole season because there is a team or group depending on them and life is about teamwork and persevering.

I know we’re busy, but as I say, it’s a good busy. It’s a time when we can relish in our children’s success, see them win, lose, fall, get up and be there just in case they need us or a Bandaid.

Trust me, we need this activity and connection with other parents as well. Where else would I find out which t-ball team has the coach who squats down to the four-year-old size of his players and says “boys – everybody have fun tonight, everybody Wang Chung tonight!” – to which parents and kids roar in laughter, or which teacher takes away recess for not finishing first-grade homework, or if Instapot really is all that?  Parent connections are priceless. 

My first-grade friend who is simply too busy to bother with tying shoes figured out what makes him happy as all kids should.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Jesus picks teams

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

40 Reflections: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

No. 37

I can picture Jesus standing in his strappy sandals on a hot, dusty day holding a big red playground kickball, stretching his legs amid the blowing dust, and picking teams. “I’ve got Simon, but – by the way – we’re going to call you Peter – and I pick his brother Andrew, plus James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James, Simon, Judas son of James, and Judas Iscariot.”

Grumbling came from the first eleven picked, as they kicked the dirt around them trying to look nonchalant about Judas joining the team. But — Jesus was known for being a sharp judge of character – so they let it play out.

But why Judas? WHY?

Turns out, the old number 12 was ready to play, but not by the rules. Oh, Judas!

Judas was sneaky. On the day Judas betrayed Jesus, the masses believed his poor choices led him to be a spy. Thus the name “Spy Wednesday”. Spy means “ambush” and Wednesday of Holy Week was the day he chose to betray Christ for 30 pieces of silver.

Here are some Gospel theories on why Judas went down the path he did:

  • Mathew’s Gospel tells us he was motivated by the 30 pieces of silver he was offered
  • Mark and Luck were convinced Satan “entered into Judas” to plan Jesus’ arrest
  • John’s Gospel says his motive was money, money, money.

Perhaps the reason was that Judas, like a lot of us, felt better making God in his own image rather than the other way around.

Knowing the sneakiness behind Judas, I wonder if Jesus would rethink his kickball team.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

I write my story

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

40 Reflections: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

No. 29

Kindergarten is a blur except for recess 
and a girl who cut in line

In first grade the Tree House was Magical for some 
I found the wood and built my own

Harry had a wand and Hedwig
I widdled a bow and arrow
and wove a leash for our dog

The Giver and Jonas were dystopian
Me my family and bike are utopian

The Hunger Games tangled with win and loss
Everyday I failed
Everyday I succeeded

Stories are in books
I write my story
I live my story
I am my story

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

The humility of Mother Teresa

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

40 Reflections: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

No. 25

Some days I overthink, overspeak, over everything.

I judge, talk over, infuse WAY too much passion, and forget to listen.

Then the guilt sinks in…and somehow my mind shifts to my days living in India. The string of animals in the street, the beautiful flowers adorning rickshaws, and the people. The lovely, lovely people. The calm in their souls is something to beseech.

Then there is the relentless, selfless giving of Mother Teresa…eye-opening and always worth mentioning.

In the 20th century, Mother Teresa of Calcutta was a missionary nun and one of the greatest humanitarians of the 20th century. Known for her charity work, she founded the Missionaries of Charity – a religious organization dedicated to helping the poor. In the Catholic Church, she is also known as Saint Teresa after she was canonized by Pope Francis in 2016.

Mother Teresa was passionate, quiet, tiny, and humble. Personally, I have the tiny and passionate parts down and am slowly working on the other two. She spent 50 years working among the poorest of the poor in Calcutta and founded an order, the Missionaries of Charity. Active in 133 countries, its mission is “to give Wholehearted and Free service to the poorest of the poor.”

Mother Teresa is an inspiration to the world and I pray every day for a sliver of her positive passion and humility.

Please pray for Ukraine

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

What if you wake up and…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

40 Reflections: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

No. 22

What if you wake up and you never wrote your book, jumped off the high dive, answered the phone, said yes, said no, or waltzed? What if you never asked the hard questions or really said how you feel about that thing? What if you never realize we all walk around with back pain and regrets? What if you never took a chance?

Ever feel like you’re constantly making mistakes and wonder…what if?

In 1960 Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote,

“Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better. What if they are a little coarse and you may get your coat soiled or torn? What if you do fail, and get fairly rolled in the dirt once or twice? Up again, you shall never be so afraid of a tumble.”

– Ralph Waldo Emerson, ‘Journals and Miscellaneous Notebooks’ p.255, 1960.

Every day these “What if” questions herd my mind into a corral like an overzealous border collie with a flock of sheep, then day flies by and I’ve botched it all again. Or have I? Maybe I did something right. As moms we have to forgive ourselves, trip, fall, grab onto something, stand up on our arthritic ankles and keep going one day at a time.

Here are my “WHAT IF’S”…

  • What if I went all day without saying one negative thing to anyone?
  • What if I didn’t complain to my kids about being on their phones?
  • What if I trusted more and criticized less. A lot less?
  • What if I invested more in what piques my kids’ interest or makes them laugh so crazy hard on their phones?
  • What if I walked by a half-made bed and thought of it as a glass-half-full?
  • What if I didn’t complain once about my own appearance all day?
  • What if I focused on one task at a time and did it well?
  • What if I never asked about homework, grades, or tests?
  • What if I sifted through my 42,644 digital photos and only kept my favorite 200?
  • What if I donated everything we haven’t used in one year?
  • What if I knew a magic word to rid my kids of their worries?
  • What if I planned ahead for dinner, or had just bought the darn Instapot?
  • What if I helped my kids learn to study and discuss The Renaissance rather than use Quizlet?
  • What if I never shamed and reminded them how special they are?
  • What if I told them I know being a teenager can be awful these days, but it will get better?
  • What if I was as proud of myself as I am of them?
  • What if I had to drive for the first time again?
  • What if I listened? Really listened? Looked them in the eye and listened?
  • What if I counted my blessings instead of yelling at them?

Would I be a better Mom?