It's Ok...Behave Like A 2-Year Old!

My life has somehow changed over the last 20 years from partying until 2:00 in the morning…to partying with 2 year olds. From the moment I wake up on Monday morning, I find myself looking forward to Wednesday evenings. Not because it’s the middle of the week and we are that much closer to enjoying the weekend, but because Wednesday nights mean “Toddler Music Class” with my grand-daughter Sammy. I love watching these little kids interact together – for some, this might be their first social interactions with their peers. They might be shy – but they immediately recognize their commonality (“hey…that kid is holding a ball too”) and soon they approach each other, wasting no time with small talk but getting to the important stuff…playing. It’s a skill that many of us seem to lose as we get older.  If we are fortunate, maybe we regain it at some point - but with effort, perhaps we can recapture that energy a bit sooner.

When we first walk into class each week, the kids are each a bit shy. However, as Teacher Mary drags out the balls and instruments, suddenly their inhibitions are released. Aidan throws a ball (which was probably intended for his mother but his aim isn’t quiet defined yet) and the ball actually goes to Sammy.  She picks up the ball and looks at Aidan who quietly looks back at her. No words are exchanged. They don’t introduce themselves or ask “what do you do for a living?”. They don’t wonder about whether or not this person will like them or be impressed by them.  Sammy gently tosses the ball back to Aidan and they are now friends.

As we get older – like maybe the grand old age of five or six years old - we start to lose this inability to connect over something so simple.  It becomes evident to us from the world around us that there can be a vulnerability in extending yourself to someone who might be a new friend. We build up walls around ourselves  as we settle in with our close friends or our safe circles. We believe that going beyond those boundaries can be dangerous and because of our fears, we hide behind the small talk…we don’t return the ball that was mis-thrown.

Several weeks ago, my sisters and I visited our parents at their retirement community in Texas. Of course we loved seeing our folks and spending the time with them. But one of the things we commented on one day as we cruised around in their golf court (three in the front seat because that’s how WE roll) was how warm and welcoming everyone was. As we drove through the park, people not only gave us a courteous wave but shouted “hello!”, “how are you girls doing today?”, “will you be at the dance tonight?”. They didn’t really know us but that didn’t stop them from extending themselves to us. And when given the chance to visit together, they didn’t rely on trite conversation but instead shared stories about themselves, about their families, and about what was important to them. They allowed us to come into their “safe circle” and we left from our visit feeling as though we had made some friends.

I admire the ability to be open in 2 year olds and I admire the ability in older generations, so maybe I need to make an effort in my current life rather than waiting until I’m 65. And, in fact, I think that this is one area in which Facebook is of benefit. Because of Facebook, I have become “friends” with circles of people that I otherwise would not have interacted with on a daily basis – people I went to high school with but didn’t know well at the time, relatives who live thousands of miles away and I haven’t seen in many years, former coworkers with whom I might have lost touch, friends of friends, the list goes on. While some might argue that Facebook is superficial and you don’t really (can’t possibly) care about all these friends, I would disagree. I’ve come to look forward to seeing posts from my friends and learning about their lives.  Through posting/commenting/sharing, we keep the conversation going meaning that when we do see each other, we aren’t starting from nothing. We’ve been tossing the ball back and forth for some time….and we are comfortable.

So we continue to grow and change, our circles of friends change, and our openness to new friendships change as well. And while I can probably still (occasionally) manage to stay up to 2AM, it’s my rock-star party life with the 2 year olds that bring real joyful moments to my days.  Having the opportunity to see the world through their eyes for just a few moments, reminds me that sometimes it’s ok (and maybe even recommended) to go ahead and behave like a 2-year old!

No Good In A Bed, But Fine Up Against A Wall...

 A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose. 

Gertrude Stein

Feeling fully immersed in the grey, cold, dreary and boring month of February, I recently purchased a dozen roses for no other reason than their color just seemed to call to me. Later that day, I took a few pictures of them and then wondered if I might be able to challenge myself in the days ahead to photograph the roses in a completely different way each day. As I set about this project, I found myself thinking about these roses: the color they brought into my world, the fragrance they brought to my senses, the lift they brought into my days. And as I thought about them each day, I appreciated more fully the impact they had on my moments as they came into full bloom and then began to wither.

This post will not be like any I've done before. There are no words that I have to describe the lasting beauty of a rose. So I'll rely on the words of people greater than I and through some of the photos taken this week...

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.
Iris Murdoch

God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.
James M. Barrie

Days of wine and roses laugh and run away, like a child at play.
Johnny Mercer

 
Even as they changed and withered, the roses continued to bring joy and beauty in a new way. I was forced to try to see things in a different way each day and...it was hard. I found myself settling for the "easy" and gravitating towards the cliche of what was expected. I don't know that I was ever able to see the roses beyond the traditional but I guess I was reminded that it's easy to stick with what is easy and comfortable, and doing something new or different takes time, energy, thought, and a bit of courage.

But every now and then there is reward in doing something in a new way. Maybe you've fallen into a rut at work, in your relationship, with your workout routine, your hairstyle, or the music you listen to it. Whatever it might be that is making you feel grey and dreary...maybe it's time to shake it up in a new way.

I'll warn you: It can feel awkward and not everyone around you will always like the changes...or the results. But in the end, YOU might find that YOU like the result. This was certainly my experience one day after taking many photos.  It was actually the last one that I took that day (after I thought I just couldn't see the rose in a new way...but then had one more idea), that is the photo I liked the best of the series. (I won't tell you which one was my favorite.)

One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.
Dale Carnegie

Will you accept this rose?
Bachelors and Bachelorettes

 These simple golden roses brought moments of beauty into my dreary winter days and I’m thankful for that small blessing in a February world. And now I pass them on to you…hoping that these words and photos, will brighten just one moment in your day.

The world is a rose, smell it and pass it to your friends.
Persian Proverb

  And lastly, there’s this…

I once had a rose named after me and I was very flattered.
But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalogue:
no good in a bed,
but fine up against a wall.
Eleanor Roosevelt

Paraphrasing Willie Nelson and Julio Iglesias: "To All The Boys I've Loved Before"

Alternate title: "The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly"(Just kidding!)

February is the month of love - red hearts, sweet candies, and loving thoughts are at every turn. Though I've been married now for close to 24 years, I can still recall many of the relationships that I had prior to being married. I remember boys that I dated - some only once or twice and some for much longer. With Valentine's only days away, I've been thinking some about past "loves" and wondering..."Did I give away more of my "self" in those relationships or did those relationships help me to find my "self"?"

It's probably only natural that we are changed in some ways by every relationship in our lives. Sometimes those are good changes and other times, not so much. Unfortunately, I think most often it is when you are so involved in the relationship, that many of those negative changes rear their ugly head, and at those times you are least able to see the changes taking place. In this way and with the benefit of hindsight, I now know that I fell victim to some of these changes and that I sacrificed parts of myself in order to please the other person. When you're starting a new relationship, you are looking for that common ground that will allow you to enjoy a shared experience together. Sometimes this brings exciting new adventures to your life, and other times - through no malicious intent on anyone's part - you find yourself compromising in areas that were maybe once important to you. This is where the danger to "self" comes in - giving up things that were once important to you, not because you no longer care, but because the other person doesn't care that those things are important to who you are. I've been there and I've also been very fortunate to reclaim for myself those things that were once so important.

But it's the things that we gain from each relationship that make them valuable and memorable. We learn about the hard work that it takes sometimes to love another person. We learn about trust. We learn about true compromise. We learn about honoring, respecting, and most importantly, admiring the differences in the person we love. We learn about supporting someone when they are their lowest, and we learn about celebrating someone when they have found success. In addition, some other lessons I've learned from previous relationships...
* That I was just never meant to downhill ski
* That seafood can taste so good
* That Bruce Springsteen's version of "Pink Cadillac" really is better than the Tina Turner version.

All those boys that I dated, that I had crushes for, and some that I loved, brought me parts of myself. Through those relationships, I learned about who I wanted to be and who I didn't want to be.

So this Valentine's Day, take just a moment to think about "all the boys (or girls) you've loved before" and send them a quiet thanks for the good that they brought into your life, and, oddly enough, maybe even for some of the harder lessons. They helped you become who you are today. And that is a person who understands about love.

Can I Offer You A Coupon For Your Next Visit? (A slight rant...)

Once upon a time, in a quaint era not so long ago, conducting a purchase with your local department store was a quick (and yet, pleasant) experience that went something like this….

Clerk:   Good afternoon!

Me:        Hello!

Clerk:   Cash or Credit?
Me:        Cash.

Clerk:   That will be $18.52.

Me:        Here’s a $20.

Clerk:   And your change is $1.48 (handed to me along with my receipt)

Me:       Thank you!

Clerk:   Thanks for shopping and have a great day!

Time Elapsed:   Only a few moments!

However, somewhere along the line, what should be a very quick transaction has turned into a lengthy and mostly self-service process, as well as an invasion of personal privacy. Disclaimer: Please don’t read this as an indictment of the wonderful clerks working at these stores. They are great people and I know they are just doing their job – going through the steps forced upon them by their management team. And most often they are doing so with a smile! I know it isn’t their fault which is why I try to remain patient and polite.  However, submitted for your evidence (and perhaps only slightly exaggerated), the following scene from a recent shopping experience has become all too common...

Clerk:    Good afternoon!

Me:       Hello!

Clerk:    Did you find everything you were looking for today?

Me:       (Lying because it isn’t worth going into the fact that they are continuously moving product to remote and obscure store areas in order to encourage people to wander aimlessly about searching for the items on their list.) Yes.

Clerk:    (Holding up my new workout top) Oh this is really cute, I haven’t seen this here before.

Me:       (Voices in my head: Man, I hate it when the clerks assess my purchases. Thankfully I’m not buying anything embarrassing today like feminine products or a Nickelback CD.) Thank you.

Clerk:    Will you be using your reward card today?

Me:       No, I don’t think I have one.

Clerk:    Oh (looking disappointed), in order to receive the sales prices on all these items, you need to be enrolled in the reward program.

Me:      Do you mean that I won’t get any of the sale prices that were marked on all this stuff unless I give you my personal information and sign up for your program?

Clerk:    Well, it’s really just your name, address, phone number, and email address.

Me:       (Voices in my head: Yes, that would be my personal information). You know, I really don’t want to have to keep track of another discount card.

Clerk:    It’s no problem! If you ever don’t have it with you in the future, you can just enter in all your personal information and we’ll find you! Or we can give you a handy key ring card to always have with you!

Me:       (Voices in my head: Great.)  Well, I guess I don’t really have a choice.

Clerk:    It will only take a moment and you can do it directly from the keypad….

Me:       (Maybe 3 Minutes Later) – OK, I think I’m now enrolled.

Clerk:    Great! Hmmmm….doesn’t seem to have entered into the system. Let me just quickly re-enter the information.

            (Minutes Later) All done!

            (Finishes ringing up the items)

Clerk:    Cash or Credit?

Me:       Credit.

Clerk:    Can I interest you in a “store name” credit card today?

Me:       No thank you.

Clerk:    You’ll qualify for an additional 15% off your in-store purchases today…

Me:       No thank you.

Clerk:    You’ll be eligible to receive numerous offers...

Me:       (Voices in my head: Am I stuttering here? Speaking pig latin?) No thank you.

Clerk:    Could I have your zip code please?

Me:       No thank you.
Clerk:    It just helps us to determine where our shoppers are from...
Me:        No thank you.

Clerk:    Could I have your email address so that we can send you valuable offers?

Me:       No, I’d rather not. Thank you.

Clerk:    Ok! (Eyeing me suspiciously like "why wouldn't anyone want to receive all our valuable offers?")  No problem!

Clerk:    Just go ahead and slide your card through the machine…

Me:       (Voices in my head: Argh…why do they have to make every machine different? I have to put on my cheater glasses on just to see which way to swipe it through!)

Clerk:    Just hit cancel for credit or the green button for debit and then enter your pin number.

Me:       Oooookay…

Clerk:    Looks like you qualify for a $5 rebate with your reward points, would you like to use those now?

Me:       (Assuming that will add more time to this transaction) No thanks.

Clerk:    Will you just verify the amount...

Me:       Ok…

Clerk:    Then just go ahead and sign…

Me:       (Grab the electronic pen to sign – most of the reader screen doesn’t work so my signature looks absolutely NOTHING like my actual poorly written signature – however, apparently this doesn’t raise any questions about the validity of my signature as the transaction is then approved)

Clerk:    (Pulls out receipt) Would you like the receipt with you or in the bag?

Me:       I’ll take it – thank you.

Clerk:    Well, it looks like you saved $684 today! (Voices in my head: or some other equally inflated amount.)

Me:       Great…thanks. (Voices in my head: Can I please go now?)

Clerk:    At the bottom of your receipt, you’ll see a link to a survey about your experience today. We would really appreciate it if you would complete the survey and you’ll then be eligible for fabulous prizes!

Me:       (Holding my hand out, desperately hoping to get my receipt and my purchases which are being held hostage through this entire transaction.) Sure. Thanks.

Clerk:    And just one moment, while I print out a valuable coupon for you.

Clerk:    Ooops…I guess there’s one more coming….

Clerk:    Well, it’s your lucky day – here comes another coupon…

Me:       (Voices in my head: And another tree falls in the forest….)

Clerk:    (Handing me the receipt….finally!) Thank you so much for shopping with us today. Please stop by again soon.

Me:       Thank you!

Time Elapsed:   I now have to return to the store to buy a box of hair color since I have gone gray in the time it has taken to complete this transaction!

Now, before you point out the obvious and tell me that much of this could be avoided if I would just use cash – let me assure that I’m aware of that. But unfortunately, I NEVER carry cash (repeat to all would-be muggers reading this…I NEVER carry cash). I’ve been using a card quite efficiently for a number of years. However, it’s only in the last year or so that I’ve noticed an elevation in the number of steps required to complete a transaction.

I do appreciate quality customer service and I appreciate all those who work in the stores that I love to visit. It’s just that sometimes, by the time I’ve completed my purchase, I feel like I should maybe invite them over for dinner or something. I mean after all, they know me better than my husband at this point. They have all my personal details, they’ve seen every personal item that I’m purchasing, and I feel like we’ve really bonded with this time spent together.

I guess I've ranted about this long enough. Thanks for listening and before you go, it's your lucky day, let me just print a couple coupons for your next visit....

Free To Be...You And Me

I was shocked to see a headline on CNN announcing that a good friend of mine was turning 40 years old this year. This friend and I spent countless hours together when I was an elementary aged little girl in the early 1970s. And it is from this friend that some of my most core beliefs about what it means to be a woman, what it means to be a man, and how men and women should relate to one another were formed. My friend was incredibly popular and I’m sure there are many people who share my warm memories of listening to stories and singing songs together…maybe even some of you. My friend came to me in the shape of a 12” hot pink album cover and was called “Free To Be…You and Me.”

It is likely that few children of the 70’s could have escaped the impact of this album. The background story is that Marlo Thomas (“That Girl”) was a new Auntie in 1971 and as she was reading stories to her baby niece, she realized that all the little girls were princesses who wanted to grow up and be stewardesses, nurses or mommies. She thought it was important to create some stories for her niece to understand the wealth of opportunities that were actually available to her. The album was created along with some names you might recognize and remember: Diana Ross, Michael Jackson (before he got just a little too “Jackson”), Alan Alda, Roberta Flack and Carl Reiner to name just a few. It consisted of songs and stories with titles like “Boy Meets Girl”, “Parents are People”, “It’s All Right To Cry”, and “William’s Doll”. Each lyric and story were poems in themselves telling the little girls and boys listening that it’s OK to be who they are, it’s OK to dress the way they want to dress, it’s OK to cry (or to feel), it’s OK to accept other people’s differences, and it’s OK for boys to want to play with dolls so they can be good parents someday or for girl’s to want to grow up to be doctors, truckers, or astronauts.

I played this record continuously and non-stop on the stereo console in my parent’s living room. At least until my mom (who remained patient through the first hundred or so plays), forced me into my bedroom or the basement where I played the album on my light blue plastic Fisher Price record player. The record had an accompanying “book” within the album cover and I would pour over the pictures, the lyrics of every song, and sing at the top of my lungs while occasionally acting out the stories whenever the mood happened to strike. (On a side note, I think it might have been about this period in my life when my brother Steven started calling me “geek” on a pretty regular basis. I’m not sure if there is any correlation but I guess I should acknowledge that it is a possibility.) Anyway, I loved this record and every song on it. “Free To Be…You and Me” became an anthem for me…and for much of my generation.

I lived in, what was at the time, a very gender-traditional household. My dad went to the office every morning while my mom stayed home and managed the house and the family. In our family’s free hours, my dad and brothers would hunt, trap, ride motorcycles, clean guns, and build things. Meanwhile my sisters, with their long hair that went down past their butts, talked on the phone and tanned in the sun, while I played dolls and cooked Cinnamon Crisps with my Easy Bake Oven and dough that my mom had left over. I don’t remember my parents ever saying to me “Theresa, you can do whatever you want to when you grow up.” But yet, somehow, I knew that was the case. Maybe because of the songs that I listened to on “Free To Be”, or because of the shows I watched on TV (Mary Tyler Moore, That Girl, Scooby Doo), or maybe because they just didn’t have to say it. While I might have chosen at that time to play with my Drowsy doll instead of a baseball, I know that my parents would have supported my choice to do either. And though I grew up to prefer talking on the phone with my friends about boys, had I wanted to go hunting with my dad, I know that he would have never hesitated to bring me along. Though the gender roles in my family seemed to follow the traditional lines of the 1970’s, there was an undercurrent in the way my parents raised me that allowed me to believe I could be or do anything. Geek or no geek, I was free to be me.

When I saw this article about the 40 year anniversary of this album that was such a huge part of my childhood and the formation of who I am, I immediately got nostalgic and sought out the album so I can share it with my grandchildren (and, yes, admittedly, to enjoy it as a possible guilty pleasure occasionally in the privacy of my own vehicle.)  Though it is 40 years old, the messages are still relevant for today’s children. Sure, we’ve made great strides in gender equality and the acceptance of differences over the years, but as proven by headlines of bullying, drug abuse, and school shootings, the work isn’t done. Apparently, not every kid has gotten the message that it’s OK to just BE who you are.

I want my grand-daughter to know that it’s OK if she wants to wear purple tutus every day, or purple ear muffs even when she is indoors and it isn’t cold. I want her to have fun playing with dolls and having pretend picnics on the floor of our living room; and yet to also know that there are no limits to what she can be as she gets older – her interests and her talents will know no boundaries.

I want my grandson to have a blast making car noises with his toy trucks, or laughing with such glee when he gets to destroy a block tower that I’ve carefully built. I love to see him rough and tumbling and know that as he continues to grow, his fascination with things like motorcycles, tools, and sports will grow along with him. But I also want him to know that it’s OK for boys to have caring, nurturing spirits as well.

I hope that these are the principles that I passed down to my children. I do know that they will raise their own children believing in themselves and accepting those around them. And I’ll try to remember these messages myself as well because even now as adults, we are occasionally faced with gender issues or acceptance issues.  It’s important that we always remember that we truly are  “Free To Be”.

"There's a land that I see where the children are free

And I say it an't far to this land from where we are
Take my hand and come with me, where the children are free

Come with me, take my hand, and we'll live

In a land where the river runs free

In a land through the green country

In a land to a shining sea

And you and me are free to be...you and me"

"Expanding To Fit" Or..."Why My Leggings Are Making Me Gain Weight"

I’ve noticed a personal trend lately that maybe you have been experiencing as well. It seems that many things in my life “expand to fit”. Whether it is the size of my purse, the length of my to-do list, or the amount of extra storage space available in my house, it seems that I somehow manage to expand to fit a roomier expanse.  I fill a larger purse with essentials, continue to add items to my to-do list until my days are full, and even though I purge our storage room each year, it somehow manages to fill again with things I can’t throw away.  Unfortunately, the thing that brought this trend to my attention was the impact that the recent fashion trend towards stretchy leggings and long sweaters is having on my physical body – to be blunt, I seem to be “expanding to fit”.

Looking back, I can see that fashion has played a part in my body size throughout many passing trends. As a teenager in the late 70’s/early 80’s, the trend was designer jeans such as Gloria Vanderbilt (yes, they were actually considered high end designer at the time and couldn’t be purchased at Kohls), Calvin Kleins, and Vidal Sasson (apparently he made jeans too – not just hair products); but more important than the fancy name was the fit, the designer jeans had to be tight. Not just form fitting or body skimming, I’m talking about “lay on your bed and inhale deeply just in order to zip them up”. Once you managed to get into these jeans, there really wasn’t room for anything else – such as anything crazy and decadent like a bite of carrot or snip of celery – so it made it quite a bit easier to manage your weight.

The designer jean trend was soon followed by the first phase of the leggings trend. As you probably already know, if you live long enough, you will see most trends come around once or twice and this was the first appearance of stretchy leggings in my fashion history. They were set apart from today’s legging styles only in the fact that they had stirrups on the bottom, for what reason I can’t even imagine. In any case, with sudden room allowed for strenuous movements (like breathing), these pants allowed me the comfort to expand my food intake. And as a result, my body expanded to fit the leggings.

I’ve been through more of these trends than I can tell you over the last 30 years. Tight, baggy, thinner, heavier. It seems to be a very circular and repeating path. And now I find myself once again in a world where the current fashion is based on comfort and warmth – black leggings paired with layers of tunics or long knit sweaters. Cute? Yes. Good for my tendency to expand to fit? Not so much.

So in the spirit of New Year’s, I’m going to make a resolution (or several). Sure…I’ll try to eat better and try to get more exercise because I want to be healthy and I want to be around for a long time to enjoy all the moments ahead of me. But I’m also going to resolve to balance my leggings wardrobe with a fair amount of fitted clothing that, while definitely less stretchy and comfortable, will also help me fight the trend to expand!

As a side note, the trend to expand isn’t always such a bad thing. I’ve noticed the concept in other areas of my life as well. Just when I think my heart is full with the love for family and friends, someone new comes along – a new baby is born or a new friend comes into our life, and wouldn’t you know, our hearts expand to fit. I’ve also noticed that sometimes the bigger you set your goals and your dreams, somehow your life seems to expand to make room for them.  Maybe that’s the trade-off for having to deal with an occasional expanding body and if so, count me in. My body will continue to change – expanding and contracting - for the rest of my life but as long as my heart and dreams always continue to grow, I think that I can be happy in a world that is sometimes expanding to fit.

"Mommy Fail"

"Mommy Fail"...it's a phrase I've been hearing a lot lately - from young moms, older mothers, and even some dads. It refers to those moments when we as parents are not perfect and when we, through an action or lack of action, word or lack of the right words, let down our children in some way - whether it is a real or only a perceived failure.  

I think young mothers today are in a very challenging position. Many of them work outside the home and then come home at the end of the day wanting to compensate for their absence and wanting to achieve perfection as parents. Our culture tells them they can do it all and that it has to be done by hand, from scratch, and with no shortcuts or breaks. Their situation, though challenging, is probably not unique or much different from challenges faced by their own parents, and the culture of the parents before them. We all want to achieve some level of perfection. We want the best for our children. And we fiercely protect them from anyone who might cause them harm. So it is these "mommy fail" moments that strike us very deeply, when it is revealed that sometimes, we are the ones who might cause them disappointment or hurt.

I'm not talking here about clear and lasting failures. I know that many of you have had different experiences than my own. Some of you were abandoned by your parents in one way or another. Some of you experienced true failure at the hands of your parents. That is a completely separate kind of failure to what I'm talking about here. Those kinds of "fails" are certainly more powerful and not as easily forgiven. I'm only referencing the little moments that we all have when our "human-ness" comes through and cracks the shield of our perceived perfection, forcing us to step off the parental pedestal.

My own kids are grown now which allows me the luxury to look back over the years and how they were raised. I think I was a good mom and I think they would agree. But, sometimes, as Julia Roberts said in "Pretty Woman", "the bad stuff can be easier to believe." Or from a parent's perspective, sometimes it might be easier to remember because our own failures haunt us. 

I've had many "mommy fail" moments. To give you an idea of the kind of brief second in time that I'm thinking of, I'll tell you a quick story about one morning when the kids were little and I was trying to get them ready for the day and get myself ready for work. We were running very late and I knew that I would be late for work that day. It must have been winter because I remember the kids sitting on the floor in the entryway working to put on their boots and jackets - just not apparently quickly enough for me that morning. I snapped at them...something like, "Oh why do you guys have to make everything so hard?!?" I looked at their faces and immediately saw my own failure. I could read in their eyes at that moment that they thought they'd let me down in some way, that they thought they weren't doing it "right". I knew I was wrong. I tried to laugh it off saying to them "oh, that's right, because you guys are the kids and I'm SUPPOSED to be the grown up, right?" Chances are, because kids are so resilient, they went about their day without any issues. But for me, as parent, I carried it with me all day (and apparently for the 20 years since). I was angry at myself for starting their day with a scolding. I was concerned that not only might I have ruined their day, but God forbid, perhaps I had caused them some kind of lasting damage. As parents, we are harder on ourselves than any of the most stringent of judges. 

I'll be honest to tell you that I remember a fair number of these kinds of moments. Some are silly and looking back, I can laugh at the situation and at myself. I can see that I was just a woman, just a person, just a mom, trying to do my very best in every moment and sometimes hitting the mark...and sometimes failing. There are other moments, that might be equally silly and certainly not any more meaningful, but for some reason, I still carry them with me wishing I could turn back the clock and have given myself more patience with situations, and with myself.

Before I give you the impression that my kids lives were littered with my parental mistakes, let me say again in my own defense, I was, and still am (I think), a good mom. These are just moments that we all have - whether it is as parents, or spouses, or siblings, or children, or friends, when we fail to do the perfect thing in the perfect moment. I have no idea if my kids remember these moments. Though I can recall them, of course my hope is that my children remember the millions of other moments that were the opposite of failures - moments filled with laughing, talking, singing, understanding, loving. After all, I am a child of parents too and I couldn't list for you any of my parent's failures, though I'm sure if I asked them, they might recall a few of these kinds of moments from their own experience. Instead, I recall all the moments that they were just there, loving me. The people who love us, maybe especially most of all our children, forgive us for being human. They see us, flaws and all. They see the whole picture. And love us anyway. Maybe we should follow their lead, and forgive ourselves as well.

In each moment, we can only do the best that we can do in that moment. Most of the time, it's amazing and wonderful and we have every right to be very proud. But sometimes, we fall a bit short of perfection. I think it's OK for our children to see that and to know that perfection, though a noble goal, is rarely attained. It's OK for our children to know that we all do our best and in those moments that we perceive ourselves (either justified or unjustified) to be failures, we are really just moms, or dads, or kids, or sisters, or wives, or friends...and we are not only what that moment holds, but rather we are the sum of a million moments rolled into a lifetime.