A Mother’s Hold

On New Year’s Eve, JC and I are flying to the Midwest to meet up with my family.  This is the first time JC will be meeting my mother.  I am 52 years old and this is also the first time my mother will be faced with the fact that her daughter is really gay.  Of course she’s known for awhile, but I don’t think it is real to some people until it stares them in the face.

I admit I’m a little nervous.  I know I shouldn’t be, but I am.  There are a thousand thoughts and questions going through my mind.  How will she treat JC?  How should I act in front of my mother?  Will my mother be able to take us into her heart and accept us unconditionally?  Will this be an uncomfortable visit?  How will it affect my relationship with JC?

What is it about a mother that she has so much emotional hold on her children?  Or maybe I should be asking, why do I give her so much power in my life?  I think the emotional hold comes from the longing to be “unconditionally” loved by our mother and father.  I don’t think there is a human being alive that doesn’t wish for that deep in their soul.  Being loved by our biological parents cuts to the core of our worth.

The Siren Song of Girl Scout Cookies

Girl Scouts of the USA is a savvy marketing organization. Once a year, the little cherubs peddle cookies that, if sold on the grocery store shelves, you’d never buy because they are so overpriced. Yet because they’re only available once a year, every year, at least in my family, and around my office, a Girl Scout cookie frenzy ensues.

Every January a colleague places an order form in the breakroom, and miraculously and with no effort on her part, hundreds of dollars worth of orders are collected. I personally ordered 12 boxes for my kids and grandkids, and of course for myself.

The cookies were delivered on Monday, we like Do-si-dos and Tagalongs. My sons and I each got our own personal box of each kind. Because I’m always on a diet, I never lost the “baby weight” (my baby will be 21 this year), I put my cookies in the freezer thinking that would cause me to eat them more slowly, plus keep them out of sight.

Out With the Fear

If you have been following this blog from the beginning, you know that almost a year ago I moved from Chicago to San Francisco, leaving behind my 22 and 12 year old boys. It hasn’t been an easy journey, and there has been a lot of healing I have had to do around my decision. I lost a woman I really liked because she couldn’t understand how I could do that. I have faced strange looks when I try to tell my story, and lots of questions from people who are trying to figure out why I don’t fit the mold of the “perfect mom”.

The Flood Gates Open

The damn broke tonight…the tears just flowed and wouldn’t stop. The pain and the loss was so deep. I’m not sure what opened the flood gates. I guess it was the feeling of loneliness. Perhaps it was the wine giving me permission to feel what sits below the surface.

But I know it’s okay. These tears need to flow. It’s part of the process of grieving loss. It’s necessary to get through the transition. It’s an essential step to accepting myself and where I am in life.

I didn’t plan to be gay. I didn’t want to leave my kids in Chicago. It’s not like I woke up at age 48 and decided to be gay. It was a realization that hit me right between the eyes. My family and friends that I have known for the last 49 years of my life don’t understand what happened to the woman they knew.

Well, I am still the same woman, and I am still the same loving mom that adores her children but I had to connect with my “real” self.

The Metaphorical Umbilical Cord

Every human being that comes into this world is physically attached to a mother by the umbilical cord. And within the first few minutes of life, that umbilical cord is cut and the baby hopefully takes her first breaths on her own. In most cases, an emotional attachment begins to form between the mother and child, often times well before the actual birth.

There is a bond that starts sometimes from conception, and rarely is ever broken. Even if the child and mother are separated, there is a spiritual connection and love that is often difficult to articulate or understand. Our instinct as mothers is to protect our offspring. When our children are young, we stay attached by a very short metaphorical umbilical cord.

We hold them close to feed, love, comfort and protect. Gradually, if the relationship is progressing naturally and healthily, that umbilical cord grows and we give our children more space to be individuals. The older and more independent our children get, the longer the cord is.

The question I have been wrestling with lately is do we, or should we, ever cut that metaphorical umbilical cord so that our children can be who they are as adults?

I’m Not the Mom They Grew Up With

I have recently realized that the woman I am now is not the same woman my kids grew up with. My daughter is older, and went through this transition with me, so it’s a little different for her. But my sons, 20 and 21, have been absent both physically, and for the most part mentally, for the last few years, so I didn’t go through the normal relationship transition from parenting a child to a young adult.

When I was married and raising my sons, I was extremely uptight. I was not happy in my marriage and felt like I had to always be on red alert, making sure the boys didn’t do anything that made their dad mad. I literally never stopped listening for potential trouble. That’s a very tiring way to live and definitely takes a toll on one’s spirit.

When Your Grown Son Moves Into Your Bachelorette Pad

For the last two and a half years, I’ve lived alone and I’ve loved every minute of it. My condo is a total bachelorette pad and it’s my sanctuary.

A week and a half ago my son came to stay with me. It was just supposed to be for a couple days, but now there’s no end in sight. I’m thrilled that he’s home and I haven’t minded having him here. But there are some challenges, and let’s be honest, some….awkward moments…..having a 21 year old son as a roommate.

Since he’s been here, he’s been respectful and pleasant, and I can trust him not to do anything in my house that I don’t allow. He’s not a bother, it’s just, well, he kind of cramps my style!

I Don’t Want Two Moms!

It all started in a pet store, of all places. The debate began over picking out scratching posts for the kittens we were adopting. I wanted a purplish pink one that would match the décor in my apartment. “No, I don’t want colorful ones! Why do you always have to pick colorful things?!” My son was digging his heels in and fighting with me over cat supplies!

If I wasn’t insightful, I would say this argument was ridiculous. It’s just my Aspie kid playing out his rigidity. But his emotions were charged. There was something deeper going on and I knew exactly what it was.

Attention Ikea Shoppers!

Dear Ikea shoppers,

I now have strong evidentiary proof that ALL children (and by children, I mean anyone under the age of 18, possibly even 21), universally, HATE shopping at Ikea, and so do most husbands. It causes them to dissolve into weeping, shrieking lumps. Well, that’s mostly the kids. Husbands become morose and bitter. Please, I beg you, leave your darlings at home, or at least in the play area (sorry, that’s just for kids).

While you may be immune to the rampages of your children brought on by too much shopping, I don’t tolerate it nearly as well. How can I be so callous you ask? Easy. I had those children. They are grown now. They were the kind of kids, who before they were born, I’d see at the store and think “I would never allow my children to behave that way”.  All I can say is I was foolish. I congratulated myself when my daughter was young, thinking I had the secret to parenting because she was such a compliant and well-behaved child. Then came my sons. They were neither compliant, nor well behaved. It didn’t matter what methods I deployed. They HATED going shopping. So I left them home. They never set foot in the grocery store or the mall, and rarely even Target, until they were teenagers. Trust me, we (and by we, I mean me, my kids and anyone else who might have encountered us) were all much better off that way.

Modern Family: Dating in the New Millennium

When I was a little girl, I certainly never imagined I’d be a 52 year oldwoman with grown kids and grandkids and starting to date again. Back then I still believed in “happily ever after”.  I gave up on the fairy tale when I was a teenager. As the old Janis Ian song says, “I learned the truth at 17…” I got pregnant at 16 (never thought that would happen to me) and married my daughter’s father because that seemed like the right thing to do. I did believe, for a couple months, that somehow we’d be this happy little family, but we never even got close. I divorced him when she was two, and didn’t remarry for 10 years.

After a 21 year marriage, I got divorced again when I was 50 and my sons were 17 and 18. My daughter was 33, and she had more trouble with it than they boys did, and it wasn’t even her dad! But she was concerned about her kids, she didn’t want them to lose their grandpa. Neither did I. Even though I no longer wanted to be married to him, I saw no reason to terminate his relationship with my family, or mine with his.