Tonight I can't sleep. I am at the age where I worry about my parents more than they worry about me. Is that possible? I learned today that my mother had a heart attack. She is 72 and my dad is 83. She has had several strokes and dad is a survivor of prostate cancer. They are both on medications but the shitty thing is I have no idea how they function day to day or week to week; They live several thousand miles from me and four of my siblings. There are seven of us all together (not including my parents). One of them lives an hour away from them but is the oldest of us and therefore the overachiever; She is very busy making a solid six figures and building a new house. So I'm not sure how many cans of salmon my dad is opening each week to prepare a meal for him and mom. He is not the type to have a stranger underfoot to do it for them. Dad instructed us by email not to panic. Translated that means "Please nobody fly out here to rescue me. I cannot deal with you all. I would like to shed my tears in the quiet of my room and cry out in private to God about my fears and my anger and my regrets and my pending losses. I know exactly how he will do it too. He will sit on the edge of his bed when he is numb and weep. Then when he has the strength he will sit at his piano and play old love songs from the forties and sing to mom, for mom, about mom. I was very young when I realized that that was one way he made love to her and he will do that forever. (Tenderly by Nat KIng Cole) Translated it means don't fly out here and tell us how to eat,exercise, cook walk, run, jump, and fart. I just want to cherish the memories and pray for my miracle because that is what i am hoping for with all my heart. I do not want to know how angry you are because we eat two bags of cookies in a week because by the time I feed your mom that five o'clock meal all my energy is drained. I am 83 years old for God sake."
So I sit here and wonder if I will be able to sleep tonight because I know when I go back to my bed I will sit on the edge and join in the chorus of weeping and lamentations and prayers in hope of that miracle.
Goodnight
I remember the day my child was in grade four. She got an assignment from her favorite balding teacher. He was sweet do not get me wrong but he placed her in a group with a bunch of students whose academic aspirations amounted to a heap of mouse-screment. The project was about animals of the arctic. SHe was diligent in doing her research and very excited that I helped her along as an awesome mother would by preparing pictures and lettering for her. Unfortunately the effort of the other darlingds in her group did not gowell. You see, other people are often able to let go of their children at a reasonable age.
What age is that anyway? In my opinion that age is when I as a parent am finally able to withstand any disappointment my child dishes out. We have not yet arrived.
Anyway. Being the oldest of my children she has a natural tendency to lead... ok she's bossy. Needless to say others in the group did not appreciate it and one of the students colored a large black blob across their white project about the Arctic. What a Shit. Poetic though that was. Mr Shiny headed teacher ended up marking her individually and she got a 93% which totally reinforced my need to hang on as long as possible. On the other hand she learned a life lesson.
Never assume that the things that are important to you are the same for everyone around you. Everyone has different priorities and if success is important to you, you do your part to attain it.
My eight-year -old is coming up to grade four soon and I bet he'll expect me to just do the whole project for him.
Whenever I speak to any of my friends and family about raising teenagers in this day and age they all agree that the only way to do it is to be tougher than they are. For example I run a small business out of my home which is three stories high. My teenage daughter beegan the practice of straightening her hair on the third floor of our house. she would then rush off to school or wherever she was going to leaving the appliance plugged in on the third floor. Oh, did I mention that we have an eighty year old house. When I would discover the iron plugged in I would be mortified. Despite several requests (some more pedantic and flamboyant that others I decided to do away with the problem once and for all. I very casually asked my husband for a hammer one evening when we gathered up in our cozy third floor space to watch a movie. There sat the flat iron. I explained to my daughter that I was tired of her jeopardizing the safety of our family and my clients. I smashed the f-ing flat iron to bits in front of her and informed her that she would not be getting a replacement any time soon. The problem is that my daughter is quite beautiful (often told that she should be a model because of her stunning cheekbones, her beautiful hair and her big brown eyes) so her looks are important to her. Week after week I watched her make do with the resources we left her. flatironless she went to school and did not let my resolve break her down.
Several weeks later, my eight year old son started cleaning up his toys without being asked. Being a fabulous mother I congratulated him on his initiative to which he responded. "Well mummy I don't want them to meet up with an Angry Hammer".
Well our old house is still standing. My daughter has a new flatiron and I still trip over the little guys toys. It is possible to raise teenagers while addressing the things that are important to everyone.
