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A Dad's Point of View: There Are No Perfect Friends I remember that one of my mother?s many sayings, when I was growing up, related to friends and went something like, ?If you want perfect friends, you won?t have any.? This was often in response to my irritation at what a particular friend had done. Later, more often than not, if my mom asked me if that particular thing my friend had done was resolved, I?d have forgotten what it was altogether. As with so many things our parents say to us, their advice often goes unheeded but comes back later in life to haunt us because of their truth. We could have saved ourselves much pain and embarrassment had we paid heed originally. My mom is probably laughing, somewhere high above, since her death two years ago, at the ?fun? I?m living with thanks to my two teenagers. As she may have said, ?What goes around comes around.?
My older teen basically has perfected the art of seemingly paying attention to me while singing in his head his latest favorite song. My younger one has just learned that talking back is the expected thing to do upon entering your teens, now that he?s a firm 13½. He not only talks back but also questions just about everything I ask of him.
If I could speak to her today, I would say, ?Mom, I?m sorry for all those times I talked back and all those times I disregarded your wisdom that had come from your considerable life experiences. Is there any way I can turn back the clock and make it all up to you so my kids don?t have to learn the same, hard way that I did?? And to my dad, I?d say, ?Dad, why didn?t you tell me more forcibly that Mom was always right? Why did you just have that funny ?you?ll see? smile and keep your mouth shut while always saying, ?yes dear??? But enough of the self-recrimination and feeling sorry for myself. It?s just one of those ironies of life that my boys are repeating in so many ways the same mistakes my mother so diligently tried to protect me from, especially in regards to friends. My mother had so many friends and I just didn?t learn nearly enough from watching her interactions with them. She rarely talked about herself, but instead always seemed more interested in what her friends had to say or complain about. If a friend was in any sort of need, she was there. Her patience with those friends who didn?t reciprocate was monumental in my view, as a child growing up. But, she kept most of her friends for a lifetime.
I didn?t follow her example and sadly, I?ve lost some good friends along the way when I allowed hurt feelings or a long forgotten irritation of some sort to de-rail the friendship. Fortunately, I finally did learn what my mother so wisely explained, that there are no perfect friends. We?re all fallible human beings and to have much in the way of expectations of those we care about is sometimes just setting the stage for disappointment.
Another wise cliché is that we don?t choose our relatives, but we do choose our friends. Therefore, their loyalty is undoubtedly sincere if these friendships have been worked on and maintained over time. Yes, life circumstances may change, but memories and comfort with each other may not. I?ve found that in some cases, the changes in our lives were too much for the friendship to survive while in the case of my best friend since 10th grade, those changes didn?t seem to matter.
For my best friend and me, our lives went in significantly different directions after college in almost every area one can think of. He got married young at 23; I stayed single until I was 39. He had three children before I even married. He chose a conventional career; I chose showbiz. He moved to the suburbs; I stayed in the city. He celebrated his 25th wedding anniversary while I celebrated my 50th birthday with divorce papers. He recently moved out-of-state; I?ve stayed put. The examples abound between us. But, the connection we made in high school and college was true and deep. We used to think of ourselves as ?Frick and Frack.? I was the crazy one; he was the levelheaded one. Those differences worked for us as I encouraged risk-taking in him, while he got me to back away from bungee jumping from that helicopter. It was a good balance. Nonetheless, my mom?s advice regularly came to me about not expecting perfection from him. He is lousy with returning phones calls, exchanging lengthy e-mails, getting together often as our lives got busier, and other things that disappointed me. My choice, as my mother would?ve said, is to not have him as my friend due to these failed expectations and wishes of mine, or to accept him for who he is, not who I wish he were. That is the lesson I?m trying to teach my boys regarding their friends. Will they learn from my failures in this regard and have a lifelong ?best friend? as I still do or will they lose some great friends along the path of life, as I also did? My guess is that they?ll do both--just as I did--and have to learn most of these lessons themselves in spite of my best efforts to save them the pain of going through this process.
Please listen to ?The Bruce Sallan Show - A Dad?s Point-of-View? Thursdays at 11:00 a.m. - 12:00 p.m., PST on KZSB AM1290 in Santa Barbara or on the Internet via a live stream. For that link and all information about the show and Bruce, visit his web-site: http://brucesallan.com. Bruce?s column, ?A Dad?s Point-of-View,? is available in over 100 newspapers and web-sites worldwide. Find Bruce on Facebook by joining his ?A Dad?s Point-of-View? page: http://www.facebook.com/aDadsPointOfView. You can also follow Bruce at Twitter: http://twitter.com/BruceSallan.
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My friend, Serina, recently went to the dentist. She compared it to visiting the spa...and she is so right.
At first glance, you may be hard-pressed to make an association between a standard teeth-cleaning and a luxurious spa experience, but consider this...
You are away from your children, spouse, phone, computer, minivan, and home for at least 45 minutes.
The only way someone is going to contact you is if your child or spouse is on the way to the hospital.
Everyone is speaking in a low tone. You are addressed by your first name. Instrumental music is piped in, mingling with the quiet hum of a drill and the tinkling of laughter from the reception area.
No one is crying, "Mommy," screaming at a sibling, calling from the bathroom so you can wipe a bottom, or asking what's for dinner.
"Would you prefer strawberry or mint [flavor]?" the hygienist asks. She listens to your response and honors your request.
Compare to: "Can I wipe my boogers on you?"
"No! Get a tissue."
You later receive a nuzzling hug and realize when your child pulls back with a devilish grin, your clothes are glistening with...yup.
"Would you like a magazine?" You leisurely thumb through a fashion magazine or celebrity newspaper.
You are not reading Brown Bear, Brown Bear for the 20th time that day, or about preschool reviews, or holding a squirming toddler (trying to keep her from typing) while hurriedly scanning an email about a playgroup you might be able to squeeze in between naps and dinner.
"Would you like a glass of water?" You sip it.
You are holding something other than a sippy cup, and you really have the time to sip your water...slowly. You will not have to wash this cup later. Ahhh.
I think Serina was spot-on, and I can't wait for my next trip to the dentist!
This is a post by Jessie Rausch, stay-at-home mother of two wonderfully zany children. She blogs to preserve her cherished memories as well as her sanity. Come one, come all to the Rausch Family Circus!
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My Girlie Girlie is now 3. Next birthday I think she?ll be 15! When I was pregnant with her, we didn?t know if she was a boy or a girl (Racer?s choice ? I wanted to know). When she was born and we learned Girlie was a girl my response was ?What am I going to do with a girl?? I know how to handle boys. I know how to get boys to do what I want/need them to. I?m not so good with girls.
I suppose I?m figuring that out though. Parenting Girlie has been an interesting learning experience. I have learned a lot about myself in being Girlie?s mom. Why? Because she is just like me. Don?t get me wrong ? she looks just like Racer with her beautiful, big brown eyes. She acts just like me. Ask my mom and she?ll confirm that frustrating fact. Why frustrating? I?m not the easiest girl to get along with and put 2 of me together ? hair pulling, name calling and an all out cat-fight can ensue. In this case, I?m bigger, so I have the advantage (most days). So yeah, parenting myself has NOT been easy.
Girlie and I are both stubborn, opinionated, like to have things our way, smart, loving and sometimes manipulative creatures. Good thing I can see right through her act (Racer has a harder time and I don?t really want him to learn; then he?ll see right through my act too). We love life and can get overly excited and tired by too many things. We like to have our hand in everything and we are nosey. Hmm? curious sounds better doesn?t it? We are natural-born leaders and don?t like to be told what to do.
In parenting Girlie, I have been smacked in the face with the realization that I am the one modeling and showing her how to be a woman, wife and mother. That feels like such as awesome and daunting responsibility. There are so many things about myself that I want to change; I don?t want her to be how I am on many days. I hear her repeat what I?ve said to my other children or husband and I cringe. Wow, I want her to be kinder to my grandbabies. I want her to be a woman who loves Jesus so much and walks so closely to Him, that only love and joy come out of her actions and words. I want the world to look at her and see a reflection of Christ.
I suppose I should start there. When I start with self-change, then like a stone dropping into a pool of water, the change will ripple out from there.
I also, don?t have the full burden of raising my child. I have a community of believers that are also raising my children to be strong in their faith. I sure couldn?t do it without them. The church nursery workers give my Girlie love when she is small and learning to find church as a safe place. Her Sunday school teachers share all the great songs like ?Zaccheus? that I forget to teach her. The grandmothers in the church give her lots of love and hugs when Girlie?s own grandmothers live so far away. The preschool teachers gently teach her when it seems like my focus so many days is disciplining her. My friends love her enough to give her space to be herself without having the responsibility of being her parent. The Holy Spirit guides her, Jesus leads her and God gives her more love than I ever could.
I love being Girlie?s mom. It?s hard, however, I know ? I pray ? that someday, I will look at her parenting her own little girl just like her and think ?She didn?t turn out so bad after all.? And I?m a better woman because she is my daughter.
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One of THOSE people Motherhood is humbling. Period. You realize all those times you judged others are now reversed. All eyes are on you now. You are the mom who can't control her kid in the store, the family no one wants to sit next to on the airplane because your kids started wailing before the boarding process began, the parent of the child with the dirty [actually just chocolate, but looks like dirt, and if it is chocolate, shame on you anyway for giving candy to a toddler before 11am] face at church. You have become "one of those people."
Up until about the age 2, Parker detested his car seat. Strapping him in was equivalent to an Olympic event. I would have to wrestle him into the seat, pin him with my elbow, avoid his flailing, pinching, scratching hands, tug his arms through the straps, and fasten the buckles. I sigh now just thinking of it. I would close his door, sink into my seat, and exhale. Then I would gear up for the car ride home, during which he would scream incessantly. It was absolutely exhausting to go anywhere.
My very good friend Danielle came to visit us in Seattle and had to endure several such rides. One day we went to the grocery. We finished our shopping and loaded the van. After securing Parker into his seat, I shoved the cart onto the nearest curb, slumped into my own seat, and started the van.
Danielle was a little taken aback..."Jess, aren't you going to put the cart back?"
Me: [Head resting on the steering wheel] No way. Just get in. Let's go.
D: But...I can't believe you just leave it there. I always put the cart back. I'm feeling a little bad.
Me: I used to, too...before Parker. Now I have him, and I understand why there are carts all over the parking lot. It's okay. [Ear-piercing screams emitting from a tiny mouth directly behind me.] Can we just go?
D: Um...okay.
I realized that in that moment, I had become "one of those people" in her eyes. The inconsiderate-too-lazy-to-return-the-cart-driving-up-the-cost-of-groceries-lady. Oh well.
Now, I smile when I see carts all over the parking lot. I am not judging those who left them there. I actually feel some pity for their plight (whatever it may be). Things haven't changed much in our van. Though Parker climbs into his seat and waits patiently to be buckled, a new contender has entered the ring. Maddie has yet to win a match, but I have several scars [scratches] to prove she is a worthy opponent. My approach has changed a bit. I utilize the same technique to strap her in, but these days, I am putting the cart back.
See, once she is in the van, I don't torture myself by listening to her cries. I simply slide the door shut. I smile as I hear the gentle click of the lock and then walk slowly to the cart corral. Ahhh. What was once a deafening shriek becomes a dull roar, then depending on the distance to the corral, silence. I lift my face to the sun and drink it in.
Perhaps I have become another "one of those people." The lock-your-screaming-kids-in-the-car-and-walk-away-lady. *Sigh* At least I'm putting my cart back.
This is a post by Jessie Rausch, stay-at-home mother of two wonderfully zany children. She blogs to preserve her cherished memories as well as her sanity. Come one, come all to the Rausch Family Circus! http://rauschfamilycircus.blogspot.com/
If you would like to be a guest writer on the TMN blog, please email blogpost@themommiesnetwork.org
I love being a girl! Makeup, hair, and lots of clothes: Is there anything more sublime. As a child I was all about Barbie and baby dolls. And shopping is the only sport I?ve ever excelled at. With two sisters, four female cousins, and 10 female nieces, I don?t have a ?tom-boy bone? anywhere in my body.
And then, IT happened. At the naïve age of 29, I gave birth to an alien: a bouncing baby boy I named Cody. His itty bitty hands and feet, and beautiful bald head made me swoon. And don?t even get me started on his smile. Just shy of three years later IT happened again. I gave birth to my second son, Shane. He was the perfect baby. Really. He came out of the womb sleeping through the night and thoroughly enjoyed an eight-hour shopping stint. Life was perfect.
But then IT really kicked in. About the time that Shane starting crawling, sweet baby Cody became a boy. And before I could even blink, my little peanut, Shane, was right there behind him. My girly girl world of doing my nails, wearing high heels and stylish clothes, and decorating my living quarters with pretty baubles and such came to a screeching halt. I had just entered the world of all things male.
Barbies were replaced with Power Rangers. And shopping with impromptu boxing matches. For someone used to all things feminine, it?s seriously like entering a foreign country. Nothing makes you NEED Jesus more than having sons! Trying on clothes at Kohls. ?Jesus, please don?t let Cody open the dressing room door while my pants are off.? Eating out at nice restaurant like Chile?s (That?s as nice as it gets with boys.) Jesus, please make Shane stop throwing food at the nice couple in the next booth. And, Lord, above all else, PLEASE, PLEASE make my husband stop laughing!?
Have you ever gone out in public with your sons whooping and hollering like cowboys and Indians and seen the appalled expressions on the faces of those girly girl moms and their precious daughters? In my head I?m thinking, what are you looking at? They?re actually being good. They haven?t tied anybody up??yet. Parenting sons is a world only those that experience it first hand can truly understand.
Boys are not all ADHD. They?re simply, male. It?s a world of loud noises, constant activities and unique smells. A world in stark contrast to a girl?s. And like their fathers, most boys? ears are not tuned into the range of the female voice. Mothering boys is a tremendous challenge with tremendous rewards. There are many days I?m throwing up my hands, tears welling in my eyes. I just haven?t seemed to figure out how to reign my little guys in. Maybe it?s because our gender differences make it impossible for me to completely understand exactly what makes them tick. Or maybe it?s just simply because they wear me out. There is no such thing as a quiet dinner or a calm tea party at our house. It?s all about karate kicks, rock music and bodily functions.
But on the other side of the coin, raising boys is a world filled with excitement, new horizons and honor. Mommy?s little boys will one day be God?s men. A role held in the highest regard in The Bible. After all, there was no greater son than Jesus. What a privilege to have a hand in shaping the future of tomorrow?s husbands, fathers and maybe even spiritual leaders. And nothing, absolutely nothing, can compare to the hugs and kisses of a doting son.
Although a boy?s world will always remain somewhat of a mystery to the female sex, raising the little buggers can be done. Look at Billy Graham, Ronald Regan, even Kirk Cameron. They were all little boys once. But a mommy of boys support group is a definite must! Surrounding yourself with other moms who know what you?re going through is the key to keeping hold of your sanity. And hanging on to your girly girl, childhood dreams will take you the rest of the way.
Someday I?ll own my dream home and it will have an extra room in it just for me filled with all things pink and beautiful, and a big sign on the door that reads, ?No boys allowed!?
