Fog, lovely fog

I love the sound of the foghorns. They remind me in a very visceral way that I live in a lovely, gray place that cools me off when the heat gets to be too much. Sometimes the fog sits so heavily that I can’t see 10’ in front of me and that can be precarious. But it’s also a challenge and having lived here all my life, I can say with confidence that eventually, the haze will clear and so will my vision.

It is said that children choose their parents in order to learn a lesson they need, but I know in my heart that we choose our children as well. Is life really, as they say, all about lessons? I am convinced each day that it is and as my fog lifts, I do understand that my kids have taught and continue to teach me critical, life-changing and yes, difficult lessons. Apparently, that’s why I chose them.

One of my most important lessons? Acceptance. And I mean acceptance in its classic definition. Feeling OK with a decision, a move, an action and having a calm heart around it. As I observe my kids, it's not as easy a lesson as you might think. That fog can start to roll in and cloud my vision and then acceptance becomes a huge challenge.

And then as always, the haze starts to clear and I begin to understand the lesson. Like that moment in an algebra class where you just don’t get it, don’t get it, don’t get it and then VOILA, the coin drops, the lightbulb glows and you have that satisfied feeling of fully understanding. That is a great moment.

  

I still love the fog and sometimes, when I don’t feel that state of grace, it can be a lovely hiding place. But it always clears if I wait long enough and the vistas can be truly stunning.

Imagine that...Darwin was right!

“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.”

That, in essence, is one of the keys to successful parenting. Changing as they change, adapting to their growth and doing a bit of growing myself. Oh, and learning the art of acceptance. 

When one of your kids says he's going to join an ashram, it's hard not to feel a sarcastic barb coming on. I bit my lip, held my tongue and nodded my head. Oh my God that is all a lie. I freaked out, I cried, I yelled, I questioned and then I cried some more. Why would he want to move so far away and begin a lifestyle so foreign to anything he's known for 28 years? Why would he want to give up (at least temporarily) women, going out for beers with friends, living in a vibrant, fun city? Why wasn't I more aware of the internal struggles he suffered so that I could help him?

OK, that last question has a very obvious answer. Because I couldn't help him. Because he needed to live his life and figure out his own issues and work on quieting his soul. There are some things even the most conscientious mother just can't do for her kid. Especially, when  he's not a kid anymore.

As he explained his leaving, he had a pretty sharp barb of his own to throw my way, saying something that at the time, seared so deep it took my breath away. "You know, we can't all live in this house together forever." Yeah, that was hard to hear. But it was a true statement and though I was fortunate enough to have my kids around for longer than most people, it almost made it tougher as they have each forged their path and left the cocoon.

And that's another thing. Do not EVER refer to my house as an empty nest. I truly feel an urge to smack people when they ask me about my 'empty nest'. Firstly, it's never really empty. Secondly, it connotes a void, a vacuous space, hollow, devoid. In other words, quiet. I hate quiet. When my four kids were small, I never got any quiet. I longed for it, yearned for it but I learned quickly enough to be careful wishing for that, for the moment it started to become a reality, I turned my stereo louder. 

As I watch them develop into real human beings - young adults with ideas and passions and goals of their own - I feel a sense of completion and contentment. After all, this was my original goal in becoming a mom. Nuture the hell out of them and then be brave enough to set them free. Sounds like an easy and fool-proof plan. But throughout the years, I hadn't really considered the fact that in my success, I also lose them to the world a bit and I have to be OK with that.

I am still learning and growing and figuring out how to truly (and I mean TRULY) accept their choices. They don't always make it easy, but I'm gonna pass this class and eventually, I'm going to get an A.

Fessing up...

OK. I'm admitting it. I'm Jewish. Now don't get me wrong. This is a fact about which I am very proud. But there is no doubt in my mind that it drives much of what I do, much of what I eat and how I parent my four kids. No doubt.

I know there are a lot of parents of different religions and ethnicities that think they have the crazy- parenting market cornered, but I believe that the Jews raise that neurosis to a whole new level. We worry more (especially about things of which we have absolutely no control), we lose sleep, we over-protect, we hover, we feed hungry people and continue to push food towards the sated.

And many of us still hope that our kids will find Jewish partners to love. That's a big one. It's not easily understandable nor is it justified. When questioned about this hope, it's really hard to explain. In the most logical perspective, my greatest wish is for them to find decent, smart, funny, kind-hearted people with great values, who will treat them with respect and love. I just want them to be Jewish, too.

Now don't get me wrong- if they bring home a non-Jewish partner, I will open my house and my heart to them. But I think that their lives will be more complicated and that their future decisions will be more difficult with two different religions with which to deal.

But again, like most of those afore-mentioned "things over which we have absolutely no control", my kids will make their own choices, based on their own needs and desires. I know they respect my opinion and that does count for something. But in the end, their lives really are their lives, their choices their choices, not mine. That's a tough fact to accept sometimes, but a necessary one if I want to keep that respect. And more than anything, I do.

Who's the boss here?

So yeah, I've been a mom for 30 years and that makes me feel old. Hard to look back to my life Before Children (BC) and remember how I felt, what I imagined this journey would be like and in my wildest imagination, couldn't have fathomed such high highs and such low lows in my life as a mother.

Granted, my low lows have mostly been about my own personal failings to see something, to detect a problem in one of my kids and the self-berating that ensued as a result. I could only hope to not repeat my mistake, at least not with the same kid, and hope I didn't do too much damage.

It's true that each child comes into the world kind of, for lack of a more sophisticated term, half-baked. That is, they arrive with their own set of quirky behaviors, unusual personalities. Angry or not, gentle or not and it is up to us to nurture the positive aspects and gently guide them away from the harmful ones - if we can.

And every time you think you're so damn smart and have that rather smug "I've dealt with THIS before," well, you haven't. At least probably not with this kid. What works with one, doesn't necessarily work with all. That said, don't worry...there's still hope. Every kid, no matter what type of personality they show up with, needs love, unconditional support and discipline. And it's up to us to know how to do that with each child and more importantly, when.

I always felt that "going back to basics" works for most scenarios. The three areas of which we never have and never will have control is when and how they sleep, when and how they use the bathroom and how they choose to feed themselves. This is as true at 2 years old as it is at 16 years old. Hell, I even had this conversation with my 30 year old and let me tell you that that didn't go too well either. So they do have us rather painted into a corner and once you accept that as a fact, you proceed with the knowledge that yours are merely suggestions and that the child will always, always have the say in those three areas. Sleep, poop, food. Not necessarily in that order.

My job as their mom was to guide, cajole (yes, depending on the mood, that can work) and ultimately accept and things go much smoother. Provide the tools and then get out of their way, I always say. And we can't take it too personally, as this is not about us, but about them asserting their right to their own bodies, even at the age of two. Especially at the age of two.

And when your kid is thirty and you think he's eating too much cheese and you have the audacity to tell him so, you deserve what's coming to you. I mean, to me.