Those Darn Cookies

Cookies have never made me cry.

Oh, I've cried many rivers of tears over food and dieting and, well, food. But never specifically over cookies. When I have cravings, they're more along the lines of pizza/chips/cheese/bread. You know, the salty cravings. But cookies? Never shed a tear for them.

Yesterday I was in the grocery store. I wasn't in a hurry ~ just enjoying some time thinking about fixing my son some of his favorites and putting together a goodie bag for him as he moved into his new apartment. He's got a great new roommate and a new place in Boston, and I'm so happy for him! It's been a long time coming. He's endured the post-collegiate-have-to-live-at-home-if-I'm-gonna-pay-back-my-student-loan phase very well. And he's handled it all so responsibly. He's earned this freedom! Literally.

So, there I was in the grocery store, filling my cart, trying to remember all the ingredients I'd need for his beloved mac-n-cheese and his adored shepherd's pie. And I thought, "Oh, I know! I should also find his favorite cookies to send with him. That would make him happy!" Off I went to the cookie aisle. Sure enough, there they were. His mint chocolate Milanos. As I reached out to grab them and put them in my cart, I got all choked up. Seriously choked up. Then the tears started flowing. Right there in the cookie aisle. In the middle of Market Basket, the memories came flooding back. All the grocery trips that we've taken together...from little guy riding in the carriage, to young man keeping me company.....uh-oh, hear come those darn tears again!

I'm telling you - this motherhood thing never ceases to surprise me. And fill me. And empty me completely! It's a wonder how we manage to feel exuberantly happy, profoundly proud, achingly nostalgic and just plain sad all in the same moment. But if you're a mom, I know you know exactly what I'm talking about! I just hope, for your sake, that it doesn't all catch up with you in the middle of Market Basket.

Cause as of yesterday afternoon, I can no longer say that cookies have never made me cry.

Joining Mama Kat Writer's Workshop and Little Things Thursday

Of Vines and Motherhood

I've heard that vines, though lovely to look at, are known for squeezing the life out of things.

Things like marsh grass.

Or entire trees!

I've read that they can wrap themselves so tightly around the trunk of a tree

that they choke out all of it's growth potential.

and...

        Vines that climb and cling often cover over the cracks and weaknesses underneath them.

also...

        They will, if left unchecked, grow thick enough to weigh down their host

or limit the light that reaches it's branches.

As I've watched

{via social media}

another school year begin,

these vines have wrapped themselves around some thoughts I'm having about motherhood.

Whether you're sending a child off to their first day of pre-school,

or their first day of college,

the emotions that come with

"letting go"

are often very difficult for a mama to navigate.

Since my kids are both over 25

{and "over" the whole school thing}

I don't have the cyclical reminder that time is passing,

that they are growing up,

and that part of my job is to figure out just how much to let go.

Truth is,

I don't think I was ever a very clingy or tightly wound mom.

But I've still had to do quite a bit of letting go.

And still get smacked in the face with waves of emotion

when I find myself longing to wade back in to the center of their worlds.

The vines help though.

Because I don't want to EVER be that mom

that smothers.

I don't EVER want to cling on so hard that I stunt their growth

or weigh them down

or steal their light.

Right?

None of us want that.

But, oh my...

the letting go can be oh so unnatural sometimes!

The twenty-somethings hit road blocks too sometimes.

Young adult struggles are real and, often, laden with real-life consequences.

So that overly-protective,

cover their cracks,

hold on extra tight

motherhood gene springs into action.

It's dawned on me recently that

I was holding on tight

to a young man who needs breathing room.

Oh,

maybe not in a way that most people would notice.

But my mama heart's been in squeeze mode.

Time to take a deep breath

and,

for the one-millionth time,

let this kid keep on going.

And keep on growing.

Joining Kim for

Little Things Thursday

and Mama Kat for her

Writer's Workshop

Jardin des Plantes ~ Part One

When my children were very little, we had a special park down the street from our apartment. It was in this place that both of my babies first took a ride down the sliding board. They spent hours digging in the sand...filling buckets, burying trucks and building castles. It was here that my son pulled himself up to stand on his own two little feet for the first time. As these photos carry me back to this place, I'm struck by a few thoughts.

This little playground was located in Paris, along the edge of the Jardin des Plantes. The very grand Natural History Museum is located at one end of this exquisite botanical garden, not far from our little sand box. The museum is home to many natural wonders, including some gigantic dinosaur skeletons. It's no wonder, in the neighboring playground, that to climb up to the slide, you had to scale the tale of a dinosaur! And the descending slides were built right down the front of his spine.

The creativity of this design always pleased and impressed me. We called this place "the dinosaur park" and strolled over to play there so often. As I look at the faces of my kids in these photos, I realize that they could have been anywhere.... They had no ability to put their experience here into any larger context. They didn't know that we were living in one of the most exciting cities in the world. No sense of the history...or that mom and dad were foreigners. {that would come later!} They certainly had no sense that the dinosaur they climbed on all the time was of any significance...creative, educational or otherwise.

As I look back, I think what mattered to them is that we played. That we went out, explored, had adventures and got dirty. For long stretches of uninterrupted, unscheduled time. These moments pre-dated cell phones. Every once in a while I brought a camera with me. More often than not, I brought a friend. There was fresh air, and conversation...I think these days this is called a "play date".... Back in the day, I think the moms were playing as much as the kids! Funny how, as parents, we strive to provide so much. We work to educate, elevate and equip our children....as well we should. I wonder, though, how often that turns into an over-saturation. An over scheduling and an over abundance of stuff in their lives.

Though we lived in this most elegant {and expensive} city, we learned to make do with very little. I love looking at my two here, playing with a friend and sharing one bucket, one ball and one shovel between them. The clothes are mostly hand-me-downs, the shoes are grand parent provided. I'm so grateful that I learned to parent far away from my "natural habitat." Had we been in suburban America, I don't know if I would have learned to be content with so little. But here we were in this dazzling city...so for me, the mom, we already had so much more than I could have ever imagined! I was profoundly satisfied, content, eager to explore and ready to learn new things. I was enthralled by the history all around us, both natural and cultivated...and tickled to death that we had a dinosaur park to play in! I realize, looking back, that we were their context. Their father and I were their "bigger picture" .... the surroundings mattered little to them.

I'd like to think that I would have found that same spirit had I been back "home" in America. But I think I needed to be pulled out of all that was known and comfortable to me, and learn this parenting thing in an environment that both thrilled and challenged me. Of all the lessons I learned as a mom, the one that came back around over and over again was this: children learn from who we are, not from who we want to be. When the heart, mind and soul of the parent is content, yet challenged... educated, yet eager to learn... present, yet pursuing deeper insight... This is the heart, mind and soul that will develop in the child. Doesn't matter where you live. Or what you have. Or how often everything turns out perfectly. For better, or worse, they really do soak up the essence of who we are.

I often say that I was an accidental mother. Not that I got pregnant by accident. But that this motherhood thing was never something that I purposed as a young woman. There is nothing, however, that has taught me more or filled me more completely than taking on this role. And as I dig out these old photos, I'm profoundly grateful for the context...for the journey my husband and I shared with these two...on good days and bad, both here and abroad.

"Look, Mom! He's standing!"

July, 1990

Joining Tamar for some

Good. Random. Fun.

{Parisian Style}

Motherhood

Every mother knows. Once a mama, always a mama. It doesn't matter how old they get or how far away they roam. It doesn't matter if they're getting on your nerves or handing you a bouquet of freshly picked weeds. It just doesn't matter. There is nothing that ever lessens the hold they have on our heart. No amount of foot stomping or teen-aged shenanigans or strong arming or keep out signs or 'I hate yous' ... there's just nothing that will ever make us not a mama once we've become one.

My son was sick yesterday. His twenty-five year old self was spiking an awful fever and was just laid-out-on-the-couch miserable. And I had to laugh at myself. I felt so bad for the kid - two days off from work, and he had to be feeling so awful that he didn't even want to watch TV. I laugh at myself because I, like you, hate it when their lives hit bumps. I find myself wishing for a magic wand that could just make all their "suffering" disappear. My worst mama moments have been those moments when there's just nothing I can do. When I can't reduce their fever, or pay their over-due bill, or stop the other kid from being mean to them... Yesterday, I just wanted to make him "all better."

And yesterday I was reminded that his bad day was, in fact, still a day. A day in his life. And that I still have him. Even if I can't fix the hard stuff, I can help him to get through it. Even without a magic wand, I get to walk with him, laugh with him, cry with him....and yes, even suffer with him. Because I still have him.

Yesterday, a college friend of mine, had to face the sixth anniversary of her son's death. As I watched my son sleeping under the warmth of the afternoon sun, it wasn't hard to realize what I'd really do if I had a magic wand. Yesterday, I wouldn't have used the wand to put an end to the annoying fever that was stealing pleasure from a young man who wanted to enjoy his day off. No. Yesterday I would have waved my wand for another mama. For a mother who has taught me, through her grief, that not even the death of a child will make us not a mama once we've become one.

Yesterday, I wish I could have waved a wand and given her one more day of temperature taking. One more opportunity to nag the boy and get him to drink his fluids. One more afternoon to watch him sleep on the couch. One more miserable, awful, feverish, fitful, wonderful day with her boy.

Linking up with

Mama Kat's 

Writer's Workshop

and Kim for

Little Things Thursday

Good Night Swans

How can you tell that our local 'Brangelina' had babies?

The swannerazzi are all outside their home, hoping to catch a glimpse, of course!

This is what I found when I sped over to the pond yesterday.

Having heard that the cygnets had been born while I was gone,

I headed straight there when I got home!

And this was my first sighting of the little brood.

Seven of them!

My fellow photogs told me they had just climbed back in the nest

after a little time out swimming around.

I arrived just as mama swan was working to settle her babes for the night.

They all piled in the nest, and mama set herself right down on top of them.

As children do, they squirmed around...

some taking longer to get settled than others.

All of them trying to get as close to mama as they can.

The cute baby face must be a universal phenomenon.

I mean, look at this sweet little thing!

What's a mama to do?

You know, when we look into their cute faces...

and they snuggle up to us like no one else can...

they tend to get what they want...

or, at the very least, all the loving we can muster!

"Mama, there's not enough room under there for me!

Where can I sleep?"

There's always one that's wide awake,

and stirring up trouble.

Poor mama, just trying to sleep.

"Here little ones, I have the perfect spot for you."

"Just climb right in here, under my wing. I'll keep you warm and safe."

Oh, motherhood.

There's just nothing like it.

As the mama and the kids settled in,

the papa got off his feet.

He settled a bit, but kept vigil. 

It was time to say goodnight to the family.

And to the friendly photographers I met by the side of the pond.

Another universal truth?

Birth - the miracle of birth - brings us together.

All the little auntie and uncle photogs were gathered together

sharing in the joy of the new arrivals! 

It was a wonder to see the baby swans.

And a joy to meet fellow pond wanderers!

linking to
Wild Bird Wednesday
and
Wednesday Around the World

Melissa

She is life's greatest gift to me. The gift I never asked for or knew that I wanted. By the time her little brother came along, I knew how good this motherhood thing could be. He was wanted and wished for because she had been. This precious girl who made me a mother turns 27 this weekend.

Her first moments were spent with her eyes wide open. She was born ready. It seems to me she came to us wanting nothing, and giving every bit of her little self. When her eyes were open and fixed on you she pulled you back from wherever you'd wandered and planted you right in the moment with her. My first "living in the moment" moments came locked in those eyes.

As a baby she was the embodiment of peace. Which means she slept. A lot. And hardly ever cried. At all. I'm not even kidding a little bit. Watching her coo easily in her crib, I caught glimpses of that spiritual peace that passes all understanding.

The first moment I remember noticing how deeply she cared about other people, we were with a group of friends on a day trip. Everytime we got on or off the train, or sat down at a cafe or left a museum, she'd look around to make sure everyone was there. She was three. I could tell stories about how thoroughly-completely-wholly she cared for her baby brother. Or how blessed the families she nannies for have felt. Instead, I'll just keep on watching and learning.

Planes, trains and automobiles. She loves them all. Travel. Adventure. Her first solo over seas trip was at age 8. {and by solo, I mean she and her 5 year old brother traveled as accompanied minors} I love how brave she is.

Then, there's her wide open heart. If you've ever found a place inside of her heart, you'll always have a place there. She's fiercely loyal. And has taught me more about forgiveness than anyone else I know.

My brother used to tell me when Melissa was a child that she had an old soul. She's so sensitive and intuitive. And brings out the faith in me. She trusts in goodness. Always helps me to see the good.

So, as her birthday approaches, I thought I'd take a minute to tell the world about a few things she's taught me over the years. Presence. Peace. Loving Kindness. Bravery. Forgiveness. Faithfulness. From that first wide-eyed moment until now, I've loved learning....with her and from her.

Linking up with

Little Things Thursday

and 

Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

From a Mama's Heart

We hold them close...learn every freckle and eyelash...count every finger, tooth and toe. We ride the waves of their ups and downs, share their dreams and carry their woes as surely as we carried them on our hips. As soon as they are wishes, mere whispers in our hearts, we are praying for them...

"May the good Lord be with you

Down every road  you roam

And may sunshine and happiness

Surround you when you're far from home."

We ache from the joy that comes from the privilege of sharing their journey. All of the firsts - from that first breath to their first love...from their first step to their first job. Countless thousands of little moments that combine to become a childhood. Countless milestones that mark their growth into young adulthood. We pray for them. With them....sharing our hearts, our ideas...our ideals.

"May you grow to be proud

Dignified and true

And do unto others

As you'd have done to you

Be courageous and be brave

And in my heart you'll stay

Forever Young..."

 

The days add up, weeks become years, and that letting go season begins. Our hearts are stretched. And our prayers change...

"May good fortune be with you

May your guiding light be strong.

Build a stairway to heaven

With a prince or a vagabond.

May you never love in vain...

And in my heart you will remain

Forever Young.

And when you finally fly away 

I'm hoping that I served you well

For all the wisdom of a life time

No one can ever tell."

MORE THAN ANYTHING...

we always want these babies of ours to know two things...

"Whatever road you choose,

I'm right behind you,

Win or loose..."

And, in spite of the fact that I have to accept, acknowledge and adjust to all sorts of things...

in my heart you will remain

Forever Young!

{Inspired by Rodin's statues and Rod Stewart's lyrics}

Linking up with Kathy for

Song-ography

Black and White Wednesday ~ More

This mothering thing, as we all know, is all sorts of hard. And all kinds of wonderful. I've been a mom for 26 years. I've loved being a mom for 26 years. It's the piece of me that I know the best. That I feel I've lived the best. Oh sure...not perfectly. But wholly. Happily.

I was pretty sure, as my kids were finishing high school that I was doing a great job at the letting go part of mothering. I thought...hmmm...this isn't so bad. My daughter lived away from home for a few years. Then she got married. My son lived at home on and off through college. Now he's finished with that, and working sixty-plus hours a week. Point is...they're both really on their own now. And my husband and I have settled pretty easily into this stage of our lives.

Well, maybe that's not the point. Or, not today's point. Today These past few days I have been stunned by how acutely I'm feeling the loss. Not the loss of my kids...exactly. I mean, the boy kid still technically lives here - though I rarely see him. And I talk to the girl every day. More than once. No, I think some of what I'm feeling is the loss of the role. A purposelessness. Like I'm looking to situate myself, and not quite finding a place.

I'm also feeling the loss of 'spiritual community' ...we all went to church together for many years, and it was a strong bond between us and a part of our lives. It's been a few years since you could call any of us regular church goers. And, while I think our reasons for this are understandable, it's hard to loose this connection ... both between us and with a spiritual community that we can love and trust.

So, in this 'letting go' season, I'm going to be breathing in the crisp air. Walking. Praying. Watching the colorful leaves float to the ground. Taking lots of pictures of all the leaves that are floating to the ground. Taking each day as it comes....aware that these feelings will pass. And blessings will come to fill the corners of a heart that's longing for...well, more.

Please share your black and white photos 

here with me today!

Six Word Fridays ~ Sigh

They head to the bus stop,

we inhale and hold our breath.

They loose that first best friend,

we find it hard to breathe.

Through skinned knees, fevers...every pain...

there's no breathing for us mamas.

Then they take that first step,

come home with that first A.

get a license....fall in love.

And we exhale. Yes, we exhale.

...even if we didn't realize we'd 

been holding on, holding it in...

After all these years there's still

nothing that fills my heart and

keeps me breathing freely quite like

moments of joy for my kids.

And for my girl, right now,

happiness is a warm puppy. Sigh.

Mama Swan {Bigger Picture Moment}

Little baby turns away,
starts to swim off
and mama is ready.
Watching.
Oh so attentive. All her senses on high alert.
She's ready to spread that wing and pull her baby back to the fold.
Instinct.
Maternal instinct.
Turn around little one.
This way.
Stay close to mama.

Little toddler turns away,
starts to wander off
but mama's ready.
Watching.
Oh so attentive. She needs extra hands to carry and catch.
Still able to spread her arms and pull the wanderer back to her embrace.
Instinct.
Maternal instinct.
Be careful little one.
Try this.
But stay close to mama.

A young child flies away,
starts off into the world,
and mama's just not ready.
Still watching.
And attentive. She listens and learns and listens some more,
her arms growing stronger with each hug, each tug - stretching ever wider.
Instinct? Not so sure...
Maternal? Absolutely.
Keep learning little one.
Eyes open. Heart open.
Don't venture too far from mama.

That teenager slips away,
playing around with the world,
and no one's ready for it.
Trying not to watch.
Staying oh so attentive. Looking for clues, catching moments, glimpses.
Mama's arms grow tired from the pulling. Weary from catching the fallen.
Nothing instinctual about this.
Maternal heart still pounding its rhythms.
Be safe little one.
Pay attention. Choose well.
Don't stay out too late....

Once grown, you step away,
making a place in the world,
and mama is ready.
Watching.
Oh so amazed! There's really nothing like it!
It's time to let you spread your wings and soar...
Time to fight that instinct
and let you go.
Be happy little one.
Live well.
And stay close to mama.




This week's link up at
This Heavenly Live

Mary's Blog?

"But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart."

Luke 2:19

If there was anyone who knew how fully, wholly human Jesus was...it would have been his mama.
If there was anyone who knew how fully, wholly divine Jesus was...well..it would have been his mama.
From the beautiful pain of childbirth, to the brutal pain of watching him breath his last, she was right there with him.

Don't you wish Mary had written a blog?

Think about it. All the sweet, simple stories we record about our children. The ups and downs. The funny things they say. The anecdotes that add up as we watch them grow into themselves. How fascinating would it have been to have had that relationship with Jesus!?!

I imagine there were times, as the years passed, that she {almost} forgot the miraculous nature of his birth. As the day to day of life took over, and there were mouths to be fed and children to coral, he must have blended in. Fit. Been one of the family. Son, brother. I wonder, did he go through the terrible twos? Was he a cautious toddler, or a daring young boy? As the family grew, and children from the town ran and played together, did he dive in? Was he a leader of the pack or did he hang back as more of an observer? I wonder what she would have written about him?

What were those tween and teen years like? Other than running away from his parents to stay at the temple, we don't know anything about him. What does adolescence look like if you're leading a perfect, spotless life? I imagine him becoming reflective, introspective...studying the law and watching - watching those around him. Taking it all in, wrestling to understand all those around him. Somehow he would have done all this without becoming moody. Or rude. Or disrespectful. How very, very hard this must have been....as he began to see the depth of weakness in all those he loved. I had so many long, late night talks with my son during these years....I wonder how much Jesus let Mary in? Did she hear his prayers? His loud cries? His tears? Did they talk about it all? Don't you wish she had been blogging?

My daughter is 25 and my son is 22. And I'm watching them take steps into adulthood. Education, career, love, marriage...I watch them making life choices. And I think of Jesus, working along side his father during these years. Learning a trade. I watch my son leave for work - up early and home late. Exhausted. And I think of Jesus, laboring for at least a decade along side his father. Not a desk job, or a cushy job with lots of benefits and earning power. Ten years of physical, manual labor. Using his human hands to make, create, build things. THINGS. Things that had no obvious spiritual significance. What did Mary think of all this? She must have loved seeing him work along side her husband. But she knew he was so much more....so why was he silent?

As I read mom blogs. I'm brought back in time, and recall similar moments in my kids' lives. I feel happy for the children who will have this record of their young lives, and such a glimpse into their mothers' hearts. And aren't you glad we have photos and videos that help us remember? Mary's only record of Jesus' life was all that she was able to store in her heart. And though we have a beautiful letter {blog?} about Jesus' ministry years written by his Father...don't you wish we had it all? All the early years, the formative years...as seen through his mama's eyes?

I sure do. Because to me, those thirty years...before that water was turned to wine...those are the miracle years to me. Those years, when his life would have more closely resembled yours and mine...those years when he wasn't being followed, or listened to or impressing anyone...those years when he was "just" a son, a brother, a friend, a co-worker... Through all that time, he was in perfect harmony with God. And his mama got to watch it all.

Linking up with Tabitha

at Fresh Mommy Blog

photo credit

Near to Us

Who is this woman? And who
are these children? Today she claims
that Happiness truly found her when
she was near the ocean's edge.

What, then, does that say about
all her other days with us?
Does she know she's left me
feeling like I am never enough?
Today she lives regretting all that
she sacrificed to raise her kids.
And treats us like we asked
this of her. And owe her.

Wish I could find that woman,
take my brother's hand, and say,
"Mom, I wish you could find
happiness just being near to us."

Happy Mother's Day to Me!

“The ache for home lives in all of us,

the safe place where we can go as we are

and not be questioned.”

~ Maya Angelou

I hope that our home will always be this safe place for our children.

Today, it will be my safe place!

Not easy for me to celebrate being mothered,

But getting to be a mother brings joy and friendship

and acceptance and laughter to my life.

Today we'll share a meal, crack lots of jokes

and maybe play a game or two.

Happy Mother's Day to ME!!