She's GONE!

I'm unsure if all teenagers are like this, but mine throws temper tantrums.  "Terrible Two" style temper tantrums.  I can't predict them, and I've quit trying to talk her down from them.  Imagine if a hurricane or a tornado would roll across a mine field. Riding it out is not an option. When it happens, the best approach is to duck and cover. As a result, I've been taking lots of long baths lately. Which, isn't a bad way to go.

One of the things I like to do in the bath is read.  I do need to put a CD player or something in the bathroom to drown out the sounds.  But, reading does help me escape.  However, many of my books are on an electronic device these days, and I don't trust myself with those in the tub.  The newspaper is too big and the ink gets everywhere.  So, I've started to print up stories or reports that I've been meaning to read and keep them in a stack by the tub.  Not the greenest way to go, but we're talking about my mental health, and when it comes to this family, nothing is more important.

Helping me with my quest for sanity is the simple fact that the teen has left the nest.  She'll be gone for a week.  What to do during this blissfully peaceful time?  Clean and get organized, of course!  I do this every summer because I can't throw anything away when they're here.  "Why would you get rid of THAT?" Undaunted, I remain, and I look forward to my opportunities to spend some quality time with a big bag labeled, "GOODWILL."

It also helps me remember the good old days.  Today, I found a spiral notebook that contained minutes from meetings she would conduct with her brother and the two cats when they were younger.  I can't imagine what or who inspired her to take minutes.  That notebook is going in the tub stack.  I also found some old photos and all of her girl scout awards, along with a "sit upon" or two.  There was a pillow she made at a sleepover when she was 8.  And, a "High School Musical" calendar.  On it, she had written, "Watch DWTS with mom."

I remember we started watching Dancing With the Stars because one of the "Cheetah Girls" was a contestant.  She was eliminated early in the competition, but we kept watching.  We would DVR the show so we could watch after homework was over but we would try and watch before it would finish airing on the west coast, so we could still vote for our favorites.  It helped that we could also zip through the commercials.

Remembering that time has made me feel better about our relationship.  I hope we can get back to those days of shared simple experiences.  We fell out of love with DTWS, for a while we moved over to "Glee" but now she watches mostly old TV on her computer in her room by herself.  I can interest her in an occasional shopping trip. Last time I offered, she told me "I don't need anything."  However, there is more room in her closet now, so maybe....

But, Why?

Moms do not always have the answers.
"Mama, why is that lady doing that?"
"I don't know. I can't read her mind."
"Mama, why is your meat circle so big?"
"Because it is."
"Mama, did you hear about the shooting?  That's where daddy used to live.  Why would someone want to kill children?"
"Let's sit down and talk about that."

There are lots of experts on radio and TV right now trying to help us parents explain the events from Newtown, CT to our kids.  Not an easy task.  I'll bet many of us went into "let's hope they don't hear about it, so I don't have to try to explain it," mode.  That's not a bad approach.  I will admit that I was glad my children were very young after 9/11.  I will also readily admit that I avoided talking about the many other tragic events that have happened in their young lives.  But, now I have an adolescent.  It can't be avoided.

I have been very open with my kids about my own mental illnesses.  That's because my illness has an effect on my family.  I wish it were different, but it's not. "Mama has depression.  It's not your fault that sometimes I get sad.  Actually, it's normal to sometimes get sad.  What's not normal is that mama has to have help to get over the sadness.  Without help, I can't pull my brain away from unhappiness.  It's complicated, but the thing you need to know is that I am determined to be healthy.  And, I love you very much."

Events like Newtown hit all of us hard.  I mentioned before that my wonderful husband grew up in idyllic Newtown.  When photos of this horrific event came forward, I was picturing his sweet 7 year old face sitting in one of those classrooms.  I could feel the depression clouding my ability to be rational.  I did not want my kids to see this.  It was bad enough.  Where do I go from here?  Why do we have to deal with this?

So, we sat down.  Well, actually, we started to watch football.  They had their moment of silence for the victims, someone wrote the school initials on the back of their helmets and so the opening bell was rung on family discussion.  The first question my kids wanted to know is, "will this happen to us?"  I had to assure them that one of the reasons this is big news is because it is so rare. How could it happen?  We don't fully understand that yet.  So, then, they ask, WHY?  WHY would someone do this, mama?  That's when it gets tough.  I had to tell them that there are just some things we do not know.  Some things we can't comprehend.  Some things that are beyond reason.

Since I live with mental illness, I probably try a little too hard to relate to those who I assume also suffer.  I have never been sick enough to so something like this.  I don't think I ever will be.  I also don't own a gun.  I have never wanted to.  I don't think I ever will.  But I hear all the talk about mental illness.  I hear the talk about guns.  It seems like everyone thinks they have the answers.  Or, at least they know what the answer is NOT.  The answer is NOT what the other side is proposing.  Then it gets political and we all just go back to our sides, instead of working on our problems.

I do not hold on to strong political beliefs.  I have studied political science and do find it fascinating.  But, a partisan I am not. Probably I'm more moderate than most folks.  I would never make a good talk show guest because I often believe both sides have merit and I will occasionally agree with many points of an argument.  I believe in compromise.  I think that giving a little and taking a little is a win-win.  And, I think that most people are better off when they learn the fine art of getting along.

To avoid falling into the same trap of thinking I have the answers, I will just make a proposition.  If we would all agree to do 2 things, I think we would be a little closer to seeing fewer of these events.  Let's start by de stigmatizing mental illness.  Talk about it.  Help when you can.  It's a disease just like cancer.  I am in remission.  I am not cured, but I am not dead.  Some cancers are deadly.  So are some mental illnesses.  What if mental illness had a month and all the football players wore far out psychedelic colored gloves just like they wear pink gloves for a month? What if we had a special ribbon?  A postage stamp?  Awareness is a big first step.  From there, the possibilities are endless.

The second thing we all need to do is listen.  Listen to your friends, your neighbors.  Agree with them when you can.  Find common ground and start talking.  That co-irker who burns the popcorn every day?  Offer to make popcorn for her tomorrow.  Make her day and don't stop there.  If we got to know each other then we wouldn't be such a mystery to one another. Then, write to your congressman/woman and tell them that you believe it's okay for them to compromise every now and again.

We will always have things we can not explain.  That's just part of life.  Let's just hope we can go many, many years before another event like this happens again.

Nancy Pelosi Hair

Nancy Pelosi has copied my hair style. Or, her people did. Either way, on the day after the election last week, my daughter opens the newspaper and said, "Mama, who is Nancy PEE LOO SEE?" I replied, "Well, she's a congresswoman from California who is currently the Speaker of the House of Representatives. And, it's PELL OH SEE." Her response was, "Well, you have Nancy PELL OH SEE hair."

Later on the same morning, while playing a snuggle game with my still sweet 9 year old boy, he queried, "How come you don't have that big hook on your nose like other old people?" WHAT? "Ozzy has one." (side note: My son loves Ozzy Osbourne)

My world was rocked like the superdome version of "crazy train." How is it possible that I have the same hair style as a woman who is 25 years older than me? Why is my son looking for me to have the same facial features as a 60+ year old man who is not exactly known for clean living? Why am I spending money on anti aging products when, clearly, at 45, I should just give up and "Bark at the Moon?"

I guess the answer is, that I am like other old people, fighting a losing battle. I remember in the early 90's going to a sorority meeting where the college women were talking about having an 80's theme party. They were all excited to go way back to the 80's and I felt very dated. I realized for the first time ever I was the oldest person in the room

But, now this is a whole new game. I'm no longer just dated, I'm now OLD. Because even though back then I was the oldest in the room, I was still younger than most of the world. Now, I'm not. I've stopped looking for new things to do with chicken. In fact, I count as one of my specialties the grocery store rotisserie chicken. I'm done with change. I'm not looking for new recipes.

However, I may be looking for a new hair do.

Clod

This experience of being a mom of a pre teen has made me look back at my own adolescence and wonder, "was I this awful?" The answer is probably yes. Confirmed today by the following message received via Facebook:

I wanted to say hi. My name is XXX and we used to be friends in the sixth grade at Butler school. You gave me a autograph book for my birthday or Christmas and it said something about the swimming team because you meant to give it to somebody else. It said PS Susa is the best.We were really only friends for about a year at Butler, I went over to your house a couple of differnt times in the fall, you lived by Washington Park. I also remember you had som sort of a accident in school. Just wanted to say hello.

What a great friend I was! What a clod! I gave her an autograph book that clearly was intended for someone else. This is how I am remembered. Until this day, I had no memory of these events. Except probably the accident. I think she's referring to when I fell though a ground level plate glass window and received some minor (thankfully) cuts. However, this did not take place in school. Why can't I be remembered for some lovely charitable act? Probably because I don't think I had it in me back then.

I guess it's pretty standard for 6th graders to be self centered and for friendships to be short lived. I can only hope that my kids will be remembered a bit more fondly. I can't protect my kids from making mistakes. Certainly, my parents couldn't either.

Smoother

While travelling last weekend, I received an email with an attachment on my iPhone. In general, I don't open attachments on the iPhone, because they're difficult to read with my aging eyes. This one, however, caught my attention.

The message was from my daughter. It read, Dear Kates Family, Please fill in the following chart as to what chores you want to do on what days. The goal is to make things run smoother at this house.

Smoother? I wondered just how much smoother she would like to see things run. We are busy people. Very busy people. Business owners, students, athletes, volunteers. We manage to work out, keep ourselves showered and presentable. We are rarely late. The house is clean (albeit we have a housekeeper every two weeks) and straightened. Really, just what is not going well, in her estimation?

For my kids, there are two fears: aftercare and hot lunch from the cafeteria. In all my years of parenting, they have never been subjected to these tortures. This email made me recall the one and only time something went wrong in our pickup schedule. The friend who forgot to pick them up realized her mistake and immediately returned to school. She found them both in the principal's office crying and holding each other. They are not shy to share their drama.

I didn't need to look much further for the explanation. You see, she forgot the attachment. So, a following message read, Here is the updated chore Schedule! If you think something might not be do able, let me know. She had filled her own chores in and her brother's. Left blank were mama and daddy's spaces.

My instinct told me to wait until I returned home to fill in my blanks. She was waiting, with pencil in hand, when I returned to "work with me," on my schedule. So, we did. I am responsible for cooking dinner on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. I also must do laundry on Sundays. Weed the garden on Saturdays. I actually was impressed with the chores she chose for herself and her brother. Some perspective told me not to focus on the subtle critique of my home management. She is just trying to help out, and this instinct to organize everyone around her? Well, she comes by it honestly.

Sure hope things run smoother.

Mean Boys

I found out today that women don't have a corner on the market of mean girl behaviors. It's interesting to see men giving the snub, refusing to acknowledge an other's presence and whispering behind others' backs. And, it brings up all kinds of fears about raising an adolescent.

Like, will my girl be a "mean girl?" She's never shown that kind of tendency, except towards me. I would think if I found out she was a "mean girl," I could figure out a way, or consult a trusty manual to figure out a way, to nip that in the bud. I would also hate to think she could be a victim of mean girls. What would I do then? I firmly believe kids have the tools solve their own problems, so I guess the answer is to just help them find those tools.

Do people realize it when they're mean? I always wonder why people venture down this path. In the case of the man I witnessed today, I see immaturity as the underlying issue. But, when it's about kids (and probably adults now that I think about it), I think it's about positioning yourself socially. Is this why she's a mean girl to me? Is she trying to change her status from one of underling to one who's in control? One who has the power?

So, if kids have the tools to solve their own problems, where are my mean girl tools?

Bananas

It's funny sometimes how kids position themselves within the family. My nine year old knows that things are tense between our 'tween and her parents. Naturally, he is poised to take full advantage. So, any time he has the opportunity to emphasize his good behavior, he seizes the moment.

On Tuesday, a great big fit was thrown over breakfast. Seems that daddy errantly placed bananas on top of pubescent one's cereal. The audacity! Not only did she not ASK for bananas, she does not LIKE bananas on HER cereal, and further, "HE HAS NO RIGHT TO PUT BANANAS ON MY CEREAL!" Stomp, slam, etc.

Today, Wednesday, 9 year old walks up to his banana laden cereal and says, "Hmmm. Bananas. I did not ask for them, but I will eat them, and just be grateful!" Smile, preen, etc.

Mom, knowing full well what was going on says, "you're a good boy." pat, kiss, etc.

Teamwork.