Posted on by LA · 81 Comments

What We Miss

My daughter is about to go back to college (for her final semester if you can believe that!!!) It’s always bittersweet when I give her a hug as she lugs her bags into the cab to take her to Penn Station to catch the Northeaster to Union Station… There are parts of me that will miss her, and their are parts… not so much.

I love having my daughter around because she is intelligent and we have great conversations. She is well versed in current events and culture, and has a mind of a sponge because she remembers things that were taught to her in years past. Yesterday we were at MOMA and as we looked at an exhibit she recalled things her 8th grade social studies teacher did as a lesson that correlated with the work we were looking at.

When she leaves I miss the conversations.

My husband doesn’t eat cheese. When I say this I mean that he doesn’t eat nachos or cheese fries or a charcuterie plate that includes cheese. While sharing cheesy tater tots isn’t an activity to base a marriage on, his not eating cheese and most things dairy can be difficult to plan meals around and takes away some small things that I find pleasurable. My daughter eats cheese.

When she leaves I will miss having someone to snack on cheese with.

My daughter will pretty much try anything cultural. Off beat play? She’s in. Weird art? She’s in. Foreign film? She’s in. Golden Girls themed dinner? She’s in.

I will miss having her around to see things and discuss things.

My daughter likes to stay out late. She doesn’t do this every night, but one or two nights a week she is out late. If she’s not home I don’t sleep well. Just can’t.

I will not miss being bleary eyed because my daughter was at a club till 3am, and then had pizza.

While my daughter is highly intelligent, she is also mainly book smart. She lacks life experience and a certain amount of maturity that only comes with the years. Because of this she can be righteous. Oh boy can she be righteous.

I will not miss the righteousness.

She asked me the other day if I missed her being younger- she said there’s been a lot of TikTok’s about how parents miss their kids when they were younger, when they had trouble walking in snowsuits and mispronounced words and just generally the things we find endearing about the not so fully formed humans. She asked if I ever wished she was five again…I told her that while I have many fond memories of her younger years, I have appreciated every stage of her life: but, I don’t wish she were younger or had stayed frozen at any point in time. I have enjoyed the journey of parenting her from being pregnant (ok- not morning sickness) to toddler to preschool, elementary to middle to high to college, and now as an adult. The memories are wonderful but I don’t want to live in the memory. I’m ready to close out the undergraduate years and look forward to watching her as she encounters the next step on her journey.

When you say you miss your kids, what is it that you actually miss? Do we really miss kids as they were, or is it just a little wistful to look back at time and see how fast it really goes when you’re not paying attention?

Posted on by LA · 94 Comments

Can Moms Help It

When my Daughter finally got back to campus in August, she had a lot of readjusting to do. She was living with roommates and not parents. She was adjusting to doing things in person once again, and she had a lot on her plate. Plus, COVID still had restrictions all over the place with certain things.

Her schedule included five classes, and one class that required her to go to an elementary school to observe onsite. She had an internship. Part time job. Deputy editor at the paper. At least two other clubs she was an active member. Some sort of scholar program. Homework. And President of a volunteer organization that wasn’t able to recruit new members last year because it wasn’t able to be done virtually, and they were still unsure of the status this year as to whether the university students would be allowed to go onsite to actually do the volunteering, and seemed like it was going to be an organization of three.

So August was a tad stressful for my daughter.

I was on the phone with her one morning as she explained everything to me. I heard her voice rise about five octaves. I made a suggestion about something.

One suggestion about one thing after she regaled me with tales of all the above things I mentioned, the stress clearly coming through on the phone.

I said one thing…

She bit my head off. Told me that she was an adult. Told me that my making the suggestion was making her more stressed. Told me I needed to butt out and not meddle.

OK fine. I dropped it.

Later that day, I was standing on the subway platform.

Young woman, late twenties probably, was waiting for the train, which was six minutes away.

Woman gets a phone call.

Woman: Hi Mom.

Woman: Yeah the apartment was really nice.

Women: Well, it’s a little small but…

See her walking in circles

Women: No its not a shoebox it’s…

She starts to tap her foot

Women: No there isn’t a window in the bathroom or kitchen but…

looking down track waiting for train to appear quicker

Women: But Mom it’s the best apartment I’ve found

runs her hand through her hair distractedly

Women: Yes I would love an apartment with big closets and lots of windows but…

look of pure distress

Women: But Mom...

exasperated sigh

Women: Oh Mom- there’s the train. Need to go.

She shuts her phone and waits three more minutes for train.

So my question is: Do Mom’s always try to give unneeded or unwarranted advice? Is it just hardwired into being a Mom?

Can we just not help ourselves?

Do Mothers always feel they need to tell there children what to do? Is it worse with Mothers and Daughters?

Posted on by LA · 64 Comments

Parenting is Hard

Parenting is hard….says my daughter.

She came to this realization this year, as she navigated parenting our puppy.

You need to watch what they eat

You need to pull things out of their mouths

You need to watch what they’re doing

You spend your days telling them No

You worry about them all the time

My daughter ended her diatribe with a question to me:

How did you parent me and not go crazy? Wait – not crazy because we aren’t supposed to use that word anymore. How did you parent me and still function every day?

I didn’t really have to think about the answer to that: You parent because you love. And love is stronger than anything else- except for maybe hate, but that’s a whole other post.

Parenting is a blessing and a curse. You get the opportunity to raise a child. You get to watch them grow and learn things and you get to see those adorable smiles and the tinkle of their giggles. You also get to wipe their butt after they poop. You get to smell them when they go through the adolescent phase of not showering. You get to hear them berate you.

So how do we parent and still function?

We remind ourselves that parenting a child is a privilege. When you have the opportunity to raise a child it is a gift. We know that even though there are some rocky moments, there is so much joy to be had with a child.

Being a parent is being an eternal optimist. When there are issues, it’s keeping the positive attitude that things will get better. It’s reminding ourselves of all the good moments of the past, and if we can just hold on a little, we will see more good moments ahead.

Being a parent is hard. It is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It has also been worth every moment: both good and bad.

Posted on by LA · 79 Comments

The Parent/Adult Child Relationship

I’ve been wondering how to navigate the relationship between my daughter and I as she forges on into adulthood.

As luck would have it, I know someone whose Mom came up to town from Florida last week. As I watched their dynamic, I knew that I had the basis that I needed to start creating a better relationship with my own daughter…

  1. When you arrive at your daughter’s house, get mad that your daughter was working when you got there. Tell her explicitly that she should have been at the front door waiting with literal open arms.
  2. Complain, again, about the “no shoe’s in the house policy” that your daughter has. Repeatedly scoff at the suggestion of house slippers, because house slippers are stupid.
  3. Complain that your grandchildren are at school. What’s more important after all- algebra II or being there for your grandmother
  4. Remind your daughter all the things you did for her while she was growing up
  5. Tell your daughter that she doesn’t treat you with respect
  6. Cry that she treated her own mother so much better and she wants you to treat her as she treated her Mom
  7. start yelling at your daughter because your daughter doesn’t cater to your every whim
  8. Tell your daughter that she’s a despicable spoiled brat
  9. Call your son and tell him that she can’t stand his sister and she has to leave that very moment because she can’t spend another minute in the house
  10. Curse at your son because he dares to say that he will call her a car service- a good son would rent a car and drive over and pick up his Mother
  11. Remind both your children that they don’t respect you
  12. Tell your children about how you worked to support them and without her you would have nothing
  13. Spend so much time talking about a gift that you gave, that the daughter hands you a check for the amount of the gift because no gift is worth it being thrown back in your face a million times
  14. Ask why they treat their Father, her ex, so much better than they treat her, because he was despicable.
  15. Give a birthday toast that doesn’t say anything about your daughter, but tells all the sacrifices that you made for your children

Do you understand why this example showed me exactly how to further my relationship with my daughter?

Parents.

What would we do without them…

Posted on by LA · 66 Comments

Anger Issues

I’m going to tell you a story about something that happened in May. To be clear, I have not been stewing about this since then. I write post ideas in my planner, and I am months ahead. This post has been scheduled since May but I’ve pretty much forgotten about it. Until today, where I relive it for your benefit.

So we were going on vacation. Turks and Caicos. Which in this instance meant we were flying there.

Airports have security.

I do not mind doing security because, even though it’s a pain, I’m doing it for the safety of everyone else.

However…

It is a travail…

We get to the security portion of our trip through JFK. I read the sign that says laptops must be in their own bin. Ipads must be in their own bin. Shoes must be off (this is where safety and safety collides a bit…)

As I have a carry on containing ipad and laptop and I am wearing shoes, I am slow and methodical to get this all right…

Which I do…

And as I am going through the body scanner I hear security yelling “Who has the ipad? Who has the ipad?”

I try to raise my hand as I’m getting scanned…

Security guard is yelling at me now…

Why am I being yelled at?

Because my Husband in his infinite wisdom put things ON TOP of my ipad, like I was trying to hide the ipad.

The anger I had at that moment…

In normal times it’s hard to navigate security at an airport. In COVID times it’s ten times harder…

And as the Mom and the Wife- you know my journey to the trip was vastly different than that of my daughter and husband…

So all I could think was there was my Husband…not reading signs…not listening to me when I’m talking about reading signs…trying to rush through things…

And I’m getting reprimanded…

Side note: I am a good girl. I don’t break rules. I don’t like getting yelled at. I proceed with caution with just about everything…

This is not the best way to start a vacation…

I was mad at security, mad at the procedures we now have to go through…MAD AT MY HUSBAND…

It’s like seven in the morning at this point which means I’ve been up since 5ish…

When we got inside security I had to sit at a separate table from my Husband because I was SO ANNOYED….and we had the next five days to spend together…

Deep breaths, calming tea…bleh to all that. Sometimes you just have to be angry. And then let it go.

My the time we boarded I was fine…

What’s the moral of this story?

Read the signs. Listen to them. Don’t try to take a shortcut. Don’t rush.

That’s all I got…

Posted on by LA · 67 Comments

What’s The Lesson

A few months ago, my daughter and I got into a fight.

As many mother/daughter fights go, I can’t remember what we were fighting about. I also know that we were a tad nasty to one another.

When I left the house to errand/walk dog, I was still annoyed with her and she was annoyed with me. We usually say “love you” to one another when we part, but this time I know we didn’t.

We were exasperated with one another.

Now, you may remember a few months ago I told you that I was out walking the dog and I witnessed a man get hit by a van.

Well, that incident occurred on the day that she and I had our fight.

So after I returned home from errands, my daughter flew out of her bedroom and hugged me and told me how sorry she was.

See, my daughter has that “Citizen” app on her phone and saw the notice that a pedestrian was hit by a van in the neighborhood that I was going to. She knew I would be in close proximity of the accident and she got worried that it had been me.

So what’s the moral?

I guess there’s different ways you can look at this:

  1. Don’t fight over stupid things
  2. Never leave a loved one on an angry note
  3. You never know what the future holds for you

I’m sure there are a few other lessons and tidbits from this.

What do you think is the greatest lesson that we learn from this situation?

Posted on by LA · 94 Comments

Guest Blogger- My Daughter

Today is my mom’s birthday, and if things were normal, I may not have been in our home to write this blog post nor able to enjoy the wonderful tea we have scheduled later today at 2pm. See, my mom’s birthday always falls around some inconvenient times. In middle school, her birthday was always right near the school play, which I did the tech and lighting for. In high school, her birthday was days before, sometimes on the day of, AP exams – incredibly difficult, three hour long tests that students prepare for all year. And, as a college student, her birthday is during finals week, meaning I would typically be in my dorm room hunched over a computer instead of enjoying scones and petit-fours. 

Although we always manage to make it work, this year proved to be a little different. As I’m sure you don’t need me to remind you, the past year and a half has been far from normal. One consequence of the pandemic is that my college has been virtual the entire year, meaning, much to my mom’s displeasure, I have been taking my college classes from my bedroom, only 20 feet away from my mom. She’s heard me on Zoom interviews, in Zoom class, and in Zoom debate competitions. And since everything is virtual, by default, I was home for Mother’s Day and today for my mom’s birthday. 

While my mom is probably happy that she did not have to drag my dad to tea today or engage in a Mother’s Day celebration over Zoom, in general, she has not been thrilled that I’ve been home for the past year. It’s a lot, I get it. And, trust me, I would rather be a college student on an actual campus more than two minutes apart from my parents and the walls which still adorn my baby pictures. However, if you asked me to make lemonade, I would say there were a few good things about being back at home with my mom. This includes:

  1. Having someone who makes me good dinners
    1. I am not sure if she’s told you, but during quarantine, my mom has become quite the chef. She makes homemade pasta, potato chips, parmesan crisps (and everything else that starts with p). Her food is certainly better than my dining hall and proceeds to be something to look forward to.
  2. Having a movie buddy
    1. Nearly every Friday, my mom and I have watched a movie (recently, in movie theaters!). The best part? Getting to discuss the movie afterwards and having her read over my review before I submit it to my school’s newspaper. 
  3. Having someone to talk to
    1. In that same vein, having my mom rooms away means she is more in tune with my life and always happy to talk about it. She knows what time my classes are, and at the end of each day, she’ll ask, “How was History? Is your professor still crazy?” And, she’ll listen. She’ll listen to my rants, my excitement over the new Taylor Swift albums, and help me as I decide what to write my essays on. 
  4. Consistent advice
    1. Yes, this is like talking, but I feel it deserves its own item anyways. When I am struggling or hitting my college-life crisis concerning what I will do post-graduation, now I can hear a solution without having to pick up the phone. My mom is always here to provide me advice, and somehow (I don’t know how she does it), say the right thing. 
  5. Having someone to take care of me
    1. Perhaps this is all-encompassing, but this proved to be true just on Saturday when I suffered from a major headache. My mom was willing to drop all of her responsibilities and bring me water, tea, and whatever else I needed to ensure I felt better. Whether I am having an off-day physically or mentally, I have appreciated having my mom steps away. Her comfort alone often saves the day.

The pandemic was horrible, obviously. But, it provided me a few more months with my favorite chef, movie-connoisseur, doctor, and editor. Thank you mom for everything and for letting what should have been my miserable sophomore year of college be only half-bad. 

Don’t let it get to your head though – I am still going back to school, and you will have to suffice if I end up writing next year’s blog post from a library.

Love you so much. Happy birthday. Here’s to another year (without the guise of a pandemic).

-H

Posted on by LA · 66 Comments

Culture Club

I would be remiss if I spoke of adult children without speaking of differences in culture. As Shallini pointed out the other day, it is customary for adult children to live with their parents until they are married. To do otherwise would be radical. And I think there are places where multi generational living is the norm. Some places, the youth take care of their parents. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this way of thinking: it is just counter to how I’ve grown up.

So, when Shallini asked:

“What if she wants to move home?”

My first thought was:

“No &^#$^ing way”

Because, unless there is a legitimate reason, I have zero expectation that my daughter will ever live with me full time again. First off, I know she does not want to live with me when she gets out of school. Second off, I don’t want her living with me when she gets out of school. I love her….but…..in 21st century America that just doesn’t fly.

How does western society treat adult children that live with their parents when there is no legitimate reason? What do we really think?

Well, Big Bang Theory had Howard, who was continually mocked for living with his Mother, which he did until he married. He was seen as a man/child and routinely mocked. How many women want to marry a guy in his thirties who still lives at home? Who has a Mother that cooks for him and does his laundry? That’s the kind of guy that you tell your friends NOT to go out with. You see a guy living with his parents you scream TROUBLE….ISSUES…..

I had a friend from high school, a woman, who did not choose to move out of her parents home until she was about 40. I will tell you that this was a very weird dynamic and there were issues with her that did not constitute the living arrangement but signaled something was very wrong in her head. The red flag was this living arrangement and her parents did nothing to help her. Correction: they thought her living with them would help her.  This story ends with too many pills and a too early death.

As one blog friend stated yesterday, they have a friend who is in their sixties and still working hard to support a child in their thirties. I’ve heard of many such cases. Is this the new normal?

Or should we start to change out outlook, look towards a more Eastern way of thought, and consider multi generational households? Is there a benefit to many layers of a family residing under one roof? Incomes pooled together, helping one another out when needed?

Is Western society too focused on the individual other than the collective?

So my questions for write my blog Thursday:

What is your opinion of adult children living at home when there is no good reason (saving money for a short term basis, sickness, recent separation and need a place to crash short term)?

Why?

 

 

 

Posted on by LA · 45 Comments

The First Fight

“I’d love it if she just knocked on her neighbor’s door and introduced herself.” my Husband said. He’d said this phrase about 15 times during the four days of drop off/parent orientation.

“You’re obsessed with her making friends.” I replied.

“WHY WOULDN’T I BE?! I JUST WANT HER TO BE HAPPY!”

We hadn’t even reached the Jersey Turnpike and we’d already had our first empty nest fight.

Seeing my daughter cry when we said good bye unnerved him. He’d already been sad, and that just undid him. I obviously understand his feelings: after all, she’s my baby too….

But here’s the problem. If you talked to my daughter, she was/is not worried about making friends. She was/is worried about academics. My Daughter is used to being the smart one, the kid who got great grades. Now, well, it’s a different fishbowl. Now every student graduated in the top 10% of their class, they all were 99th percentile in standardized tests, they were all captains and presidents and showered with accolades. She’s most worried that she won’t be able to keep up….that’s why she’s anxious.

The friends thing: first off, my daughter has never been the “popular” girl. But, she had friends, good friends, all the way through school. She had kids that she could rely on, who were solid. She might not be a social butterfly, but she is very able to make acquaintances and friendships. This wasn’t really a worry.

“SHE NEEDS TO GO OUT OF HER COMFORT ZONE.” was the next comment he screamed.

I looked over to him. “She’s in a new city and state. She’s sharing a room with someone she met on Friday. She’s about to take college level classes. She needs to find out where the CVS is. Cleaning her own bathroom. Doing her own laundry. Figuring out how best to organize her time now that everything is different.” I took a deep breath. “Do you think any of that is in her comfort zone?”

He relaxed a little.  “It would still be nice if she went out of her way to meet people.”

Which led me to my next thought, which was clearly a bubble in my head because I didn’t want to engage in the introvert/extravert see saw. Why do people think being an introvert is bad? Why do they want to change us? Why is it bad that my daughter has no interest in knocking on people’s doors?

Why does he think my daughter needs to change?

Why can’t he accept who she is?

As a parent, you need to love and accept your child for who they are. If your child is introverted, you can’t make them change. And obviously, there are a thousand other examples of allowing your kids to nurture their nature. They are who they are: accept them, love them and help them become the best person they can be.

On a side note. My daughter has the greatest roommate. She has been hanging out in the floor common room and met a bunch of nice kids. She contacted a girl she met during the roommate search and is meeting her for coffee. She’s doing fine socially.

Classes began yesterday and so far, so good. Her professors seem nice, though she found out that “Bleak House” is a thousand pages long so she’s not too thrilled about that….

And there you go…..

 

 

Posted on by LA · 55 Comments

I still Haven’t Cried

As we said good bye, a big fat tear rolled down a cheek.

But it wasn’t my tear, nor was it a tear of my Husband.

It was my daughter who cried the first tear. My stoic, tough, low on visible emotion daughter.

Who saw that coming? Certainly not me.

There I was, tissues in hand, waiting to bawl my eyes out. But then I saw that tear, I took a deep breath, and I went into Mom mode. I was thankful for all the sports movies I’ve ever seen as I gave the pre game pep talk: I’m so proud of you, you worked so hard for this moment, you are prepared for the battle ahead. I made a self deprecating joke and my daughter followed it up with a wise crack and a smile, and as I hugged her that final time she looked at me and said

“I’m good.”

I gave her a thumbs up and watched her walk away from us, across campus towards her dorm so she could change out of her dress from convocation into an outfit more acceptable for the afternoon orientation events. She didn’t turn back.

It’s then that the whining started. Not my daughter’s: she was practically skipping down the steps. Nor was it from me. It was my husband.

“She could have walked us to the gate.” he said. “She didn’t even turn back around to wave.”

So I didn’t cry. I consoled him. I talked straight to him.

“She needs to make a clean break. She still loves us. But this is the time she needs to become an adult. She needed to walk away from us in the middle of campus. She needed to head off into the future and not look back.”

“Well” he said. “I don’t like it.”

We got back to the hotel and loaded our stuff in the car, saying good bye to the concierge who had been consoling parents all morning. We began to drive north.

I did not cry.

We got home and greeted the pets, ordered Chinese food and put some things away.

I did not cry.

I met my friends for lunch on Monday, Mother’s who had just performed the same dropping off ritual that I had. They cried. I did not.

I dropped off dry cleaning yesterday- my dry cleaner sends her son off to college for the first time on the 30th. I watched her eyes well up as she spoke to me, because we are sisters in this: I know how she is feeling as she knows how I am. As I patted her shoulder I did not get weepy, I did not shed a tear.

Alas, as I spoke to my very special friend last night, I spoke of how I have not cried….yet. I know it will come- it’s inevitable. But I need to still be strong for my daughter. She is adjusting well so far, and I know when classes start today she will get better. She likes the routine that classes and activities give her. Neither one of us does well with unstructured time- we like routines and planners and all things like that. We like busy. So she will shed no more tears. She will thrive in her new environment of new studies and new friends.

Then- it will be my turn to cry.