There has been a noticeable void of writing in my life for a while now. I have been writing for my clients, completing projects and deadlines but, in terms of fulfilling the need to express my own thoughts – the well has run quite dry.
A few years back, one of my children expressed unhappiness in having their adolescence on display in blog format. I completely understood that perspective and shifted gears in my writing towards my perspective, alone – leaving the children mostly out of the picture. But, when you work full-time as a mom and part-time as a writer, well, the best material is off the table. This entire journey prompted me to reevaluate what it actually means to be me. Sara. Myself. Not mother, wife. Just me.
After 20 years of parenting, 21 years of being someone’s partner – I am not certain I even understand the magnitude of “Finding Myself” on this life journey. I found myself a mother at 21, I found myself a teacher for years. Then, I found myself a full-time stay at home mom to 4. I found myself volunteering, cooking for other new mothers or needy in my neighborhood, I found myself working on menus for holiday after holiday. I found myself filling out college applications with my growing children and preparing to now find myself all over again.
I thought that writing for others while bringing some necessary extra money, would also be fulfilling and fun. I have always been passionate about the written word, the ability to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and tap into the deep-rooted thoughts I didn’t even realize I had. I watch my emotions come forth on the screen and often stop to reread, surprised that those feelings were even in there. It’s a daily exercise I practiced religiously like one does yoga, or drinks coffee (I still insist on this as part of my ritual). But, then it just stopped. The words stopped flowing, the emotions stopped filling. And, much like the body knows the mind, my stomach aches increased, my tension built and the frustration settled. I have not found myself, and at times, like my friends that share the same with me – we haven’t a clue where to begin.
The forties are weird. We begin all fierce and strong. Forty is the new thirty! Fab and Forty! We will grab hold and show the forties who’s boss. But, for my friends and I, the forties are also a fast reality check. One look in that mirror will show the lines creeping, the gray hairs multiplying faster than I can color them. Hips that seem to grow a life of their own, despite exercise and eating a multitude of foods I think way too much about before placing in my mouth. The forties mean half-done. Time to figure shit out. I feel the pressure mounting and I’m not sure where to begin my forties fixing and finding.
I recently read a book about a woman on her life’s search. She began with her bucket list and checking them off. Great idea, I thought! I’ve never made a bucket list. So, I began.
Sara’s Bucket List
- Learn to knit. Wait, do I really want to be that Grandma that learns to knit? Yah, I think so. Maybe. Eh. Keep it on the list but, not sure I really want this one. Anyway. On to…
- Travel Through Europe. But, this one is SO expensive. I hope that one day I can do it. If only we didn’t have those college tuitions…
- Conquer My Fear of Heights Can this one even be done? Not sure. Need to ask my shrink friend. Will come back to this one.
As I sat staring at my short and sad list, I realized I haven’t had the time to even get to know what would be on Sara’s Bucket List. I felt pressure to complete the list but had no idea what else I even wanted to accomplish yet. Maybe thinking about my goals for everyone else in my life for the past 20 years has left me a little bit depleted.
So, new Bucket List :
- Figure out what I want on my Bucket List.
Stay tuned, if you care…and feel free to share yours to spark some ideas!
In the beginning, I worked hard. I mastered the art of Pinterest birthday cakes before there was a Pinterest. I ran Mommy camp complete with programming from sunrise to sunset. I bathed my children daily. I fed them only the occasional ‘special treat’ and ensured that teeth were brushed fairly often (I will admit that we didn’t floss and didn’t always get to twice a day). In a world before Facebook and then after, I shared my Mommy Crown with the world. Many younger mothers told me they looked up to me, many co-moms and I shared fist bumps along the way. But, much like Luvs Moms, I wised up and realized something – I’ve been working too hard, too much and unnecessarily.
No longer will I fret over perfect little children with perfect little lives and perfect little cakes and perfect little projects. I have learned to do my best, give my best and hope for the best.
I dropped my oldest off at college 3 days ago. Of course, he had everything on his list and more. He even thanked me for remembering the little things. I thought I was totally fine with this next phase. “I’m cool. I can handle this.” But, at that moment when they announced it was time to say goodbye to our freshman well, the tears started filling up. I even got a few good hiccup heaves. Okay, I totally lost it. Let’s just leave it at that. But, these tears were not tears of fear, like last year when I said goodbye to him for a year. They weren’t anxious hiccups and sobs, like I had on his first day of high school. Not sad tears, like I had when he went into Kindergarten screaming and crying (or maybe, that was me? who remembers!). These were new tears, excited and full of pride. My baby was no longer a baby. He has become a capable and fully ready young man-boy. No? Okay, I can admit it. He is a full-fledged-legal adult. His own person. And a fantastic one at that.
So today, when I said goodbye to my beautiful Junior in high school, my adorable and fashion-forward 7th grader and my ever-ready-to-take-on-the-world little 1st grader – I was ready. Ready to let them go and be. Be the people they need to be today and every day. Not because I packed them a perfect little lunch (which I did) and not because I got them the best first day outfit (which I did) and not because they had every single thing they needed in their lockers all set up (they did). Because they were ready. Ready to be good, confident, kind and wonderful additions to the world.
As the Provost of the University said at my son’s convocation ceremony, “Parents, it’s time to let go.” Those words stung all of us Moms. I saw the looks of sheer horror on their faces. I even heard a Mom behind me mutter, how dare he tell me to let go! But, no truer words can help a parent remember the painful and wonderful truth. We are raising people. People to become their own persons. The sooner we get it the sooner we can develop deep, meaningful relationships with our people that enhance their characters, validate their feelings and allow them to grow confident and capable. I get it now. They will always need me. But, not to button up their pants or tie their shoes or make their lunches. But, to hug them and whisper you got this at just the right moment. To know that I trust them, I’m proud of them and I will always have my ear listening for a phone call, or text to help them through a rough patch. I know my younger ones are getting the ‘experienced mom’ and like I have said before, my older guinea pigs are doing just fine despite the earlier experimentations.
So, today on this first day of my emptier nest – no tears. Just pride. Go out and conquer, my little ones! Mommy has cookies and hugs when you come home…
“We are the most in-debt, obese, addicted, and medicated adult cohort in U.S. history…We numb vulnerability.” – Brene Brown
Jen and Ben bit the dust. It made me sad, I had higher hopes for these guys. 10 years! Wow, says the media – they really made it for ten whole years. Well, some psychologists think that the way to ‘divorce proof’ your marriage lays in one word – vulnerability. The Huff even wrote about divorce-proofing your marriage through this ‘super secret method’ years ago.
A bit ago, I had lunch with old friends. They spent the entire meal picking on one another, insulting each other and showing their ugly at my table. It made me uncomfortable and I can only imagine how it made each of them feel. My husband and I are certainly imperfect. I am sure I am guilty of the same behavior at times in our lives – but, I can and want to do better for both our sakes.
Vulnerability begins with educating our children on their emotions. You have to be vulnerable to teach vulnerability. It’s sort of ridiculous to never let your children see you cry, see you afraid, see you fail at anything. Parents are super people, right? So very wrong. If you don’t show your children that you’re human they will try to become super people too and that’s just not setting fair or realistic goals. My children know I have a fear of heights. My children have seen me cry, fight, fail. But, they also know I wipe away my tears, resolve, move on and function. Those are important lessons and ones they cannot learn without being vulnerable to them. They need to be vulnerable in return – letting them cry on your shoulder, say their “I hate yous!” (and hopefully apologize later). It’s part and parcel of growing up healthy. Don’t believe me? Read this and learn more.
Vulnerability is scary. You can dump your stuff out of the drawers and have someone laugh, cry or get angry at the mess you made. So you have to do it with someone you trust, right? Well, yes and no. I have learned that you can be vulnerable in smaller ways and sort of test the waters. Share something and watch how they react. Humans are a beautiful beast – sometimes they exceed our expectations. And, for those that don’t well, screw em. You’re better for trying to connect. I realized that so few of the married people we know share a deep, obvious connection with their spouse. They bicker, they pick on each other, they make fun of one another and say hurtful things in public. They seem so full of resentment and anger. This person you selected out of all the people in the world you’ve met. This person you’ve had babies with – is suddenly public enemy #1. You can either live a life filled with yuk or you can open the dresser drawers and see what falls out.
Vulnerability is not gender specific. There’s some misconception that women can and should be vulnerable and men should sit and learn to be better listeners. ‘It’s weak to show your feelings’ ‘Men can’t do it’ I’m sorry, this is just simply not true. If a man is having issues with being vulnerable it’s simply because he wasn’t taught the skill or shown acceptance. And, yes, it is a skill. Hand him this and have him read those articles – there are primers, facts, psychological studies and real stories of men learning how to open the door to sharing their feelings. And, ladies it’s our turn to be better listeners and not attack him when he does it.
About 20 years ago, an old friend of mine got married to a guy after 3 dates. I freaked on her. How could you marry someone when you haven’t even had your first fight? How do you know he’s the one? I tried to shake sense into her. But, she said “I can see that I could love him.” And, with that they married. No vulnerability, no openness, no obvious mutual respect or love. She just saw potential. Naturally, they divorced a few years later and she called to tell me I was right. Never marry a person you haven’t had a fight with – let them be vulnerable and show you their ugly. If you can take it and show your own ugly in return, you can live a beautiful life. At least that’s what I’m hoping!
Infusing Vulnerability into your Marriage In response to so many things in each of our lives, both my husband and I committed to living life with more vulnerability. We were going to spend more date nights out – not stressing over what we were going to do (which is now typically just sushi dinner out) but sitting face to face with one another and opening up our proverbial drawers. In the beginning, being completely vulnerable for anyone is sort of scary. Allowing your angry, messed up thinking to come to the forefront can open a huge can of worms that leads to fights, arguments, disagreements, bad places. Or, at least, that’s what I thought. But, if you take a moment to carefully select your vocabulary (using “I feel” and focusing on how I feel, rather than “you do…”) being vulnerable and open is cathartic and brings you closer as long as your listener does his job – acceptance.
After nearly 20 years of marriage, you would assume you know all there is to know about the person you sleep next to every night (except when a little one sneaks in between at 2 am) – but, vulnerability and openness really showed me that there is always more to learn. Fears about work or money, stresses about social changes as we age, obligations that suddenly felt overwhelming. Sometimes, I didn’t even know that by being vulnerable we were both tapping into parts of ourselves we didn’t even realize we had!
Vulnerability leads to Intimacy – the ultimate payoff. If you are able to achieve connections through your vulnerability your payoff will be intimacy. Media often equates intimacy with something sexual. And, that is not always the case. Intimacy, I have learned is a deep connection, warmth and comfort you feel with someone because they know your ugly, can share their ugly and think it’s beautiful. It’s a level beyond the ‘relationship’ – it’s the ultimate happiness to truly feel intimacy with someone.
This title, stolen from a book my children read in school, really sums up this next stage of parenting for me.
I am once again, on the cusp of some major changes in our family and trying to reconcile what this means for me as a mother, a wife and a person who will be left with a totally different dynamic than the past 20 years of my life.
My oldest returns for a much anticipated Hello in just a few short weeks. This is the longest I have ever gone without seeing one of my children. It has been nearly six excruciating months waiting to hug that boy. I have watched him leave a 17-year old boy and will see him come home a legal adult who has grown, matured and experienced more than I ever did at his age. Once he returns, it will be quickly prepping to say Goodbye again shortly after as he leaves for college.
My next-in-line will say Goodbye for a summer trip abroad right after her brother returns. After only 2 short weeks as a family of six, I will once again remove a plate at my table and recalibrate the house with one less female inside. Mother hen of her sisters, confidante of her brother, it will feel very different without her around. And just when she returns to say Hello again we prepare for Junior year’s myriad of decisions about her future Goodbyes.
My dear middle is weeks away from becoming a Bat Mitzvah. Watching my baby (for 5 years before her sister came along) become a young woman has been a series of Goodbyes to her little girl days. Watching her learn with her teacher, express herself and take a genuine interest in the process of being a Jewish person has been transformative for both of us. There is something out of body when you watch your child stand up in front of family and friends and speak. I am a writer, not a speaker. The ability for all 3 of my children to do this still shocks and awes me on the deepest level. I am grateful they are not as publicly speaking shy as their mother.
My baby. My sweet, oppositional-at-times, firm-in-who-she-is and fully confident baby is going to first grade. No more hugs at pickup, snuggles alone on the afternoon couch before the big ones get home. My baby is saying Goodbye to my days and Hello to homework and afternoon snacks. This Goodbye is particularly hard for me as it totally snuck up on me. I have been so busy focusing on the older 3 and their needs and changes, that bam! my baby just went and become a Big Girl.
We spend so much of our lives pouring – love, energy, love, sweat, tears and even cereal – into our children that we don’t take the moment to realize that they are growing up. Right before our eyes. Way too fast. Without any warning.
Any grandmother who’s worth her wrinkles will tell you “Savor every moment, it goes too fast.”
And, here I am. Savoring. It’s the point of it all to let them develop and become. But, when they do it leaves one thinking – How did that happen that they became their own person? Will they still need me? What does this leave for me in our relationship?
Yes, in the end. We’re all just a bit selfish about our mothering. We decided to add these little lives to the world. We prayed for them. We hoped and dreamed for them. We got to smell them, change them, dress them, teach them, love them and oh, grow them up. No one warns you that that part will happen and while it does it will feel like you got kicked in the gut. hard. So, as I catch my breath and learn what is next for me as a mother, I am so grateful I still get my Hellos, Goodbyes and I Love Yous. Those are mainstays at any stage of Mothering. And, that part I am excited for…
So, we’re winding down to the last few weeks of my son’s Gap year abroad. It has been such a roller coaster ride of emotion and learning, I thought I would share the ride. It’s not one I wanted or planned on taking, but it’s an experience that I am so grateful he was able to have.
I have many friends about to embark on this journey again in August so, hopefully between tissue boxes and ice cream pints you can find a moment to read this …
Anyone who knows me realizes I’m a pretty anally organized person. I plan, I list, I shop, I embark and I do. But, when it came to my son leaving home for a full year, well I procrastinated. I did shop. Probably over-shopped. But then, I worried. Then, I freaked. Then, I worried again. Oh, and I freaked some more. I wasn’t a functional person during this time. I felt a loss and it was real.
And then, after much prodding I finally got to the task of packing. Placing that first item in the suitcase last August, meant it was real. I was taking my baby and placing him into a world that would be all his. Adult choices, adult decisions, adult moments – and ones I didn’t get to witness. This was the hardest part for me. Not being a fly on the wall to watch my baby grow. So, I sucked it up and put his perfectly folded pants, shorts, tees and pajamas all in a row in suitcase. With each item, I felt the anxiety rise. “What if this gets too small?What if he needs more underwear? Will he remember to wash things in hot or cold? Yes, it was embarrassing for sure (thankfully only my son was there to witness the sadness of my motherly moment of mush). Lots of eye rolls and fake reassurance during that time. “Yes, Mom, They have stores in Israel.” Okay, good point.
And then, we were done packing.
The Night After and Then Some
After I blubberingly dropped my son at the gate and picked up the small semblance of dignity I had left in front of other blubbering parents, I moved on. Slowly. R-e-a-l-ly slowly. There was a war going on in Israel and that was already an unsettling and scary feeling. I almost didn’t send him. But, knowing the guilt would have eaten my alive at depriving him of this opportunity, I again sucked it up. It was a really hard transition to only receive texts intermittently explaining where he was going and how he would get there. Again, my anxiety rose. What if he’s the one in the wrong place, at the wrong time. What if he tells me he’s going one place and ends up someplace else? What if, What if. What if. This pathetic pattern of anxious doubt crept deep into my soul. I could barely sleep and function without worrying he was dead in a ditch.
But, about 2 months (yes it took a full 8 weeks or so) I felt that cloud slowly lift. He was doing amazing. Adjusting to traveling around. Making new friends. Seeing new places. Learning so much. I had to get over myself and let him live.
The Communication Gap
Because of the time difference you may want to hear from your child at a certain time of day and realize that will not be possible (and if they are available you may start asking, why are you up at 3 am!). But, Whatsapp has become our family’s best friend. You can talk in real-time and makes keeping in touch with the entire group cohesive and normal. Siblings, parents, grandparents etc can all stay as connected as they want. My only suggestion is don’t become a Whatsapp whore. Give your child some space. If you’re getting one word answers they’re probably not in a chatty mood. (I learned this the hard way- Sorry, G!)
Don’t make his year abroad about you. This was the biggest lesson for me. I wanted to know every detail. I wanted descriptions, pictures. I wanted to be a part of his journey. But, alas. I am not. I am part of whatever he wants to include me in – and there have been many voluntary stories, pictures and details. But, loosen the apron strings and the communication comes all on its own.
The first time you visit your child is kind of strange. You’re on his turf, during his program and you want to tread carefully. It was strange to sort of go by his rules and timetable but, we wanted to be respectful of that. Others we know have still come and dictated (You will join us on our outings!) and that has failed miserably. It’s also super cool to have them show you around. He was proud of his program, his dorm, his friends. It was really amazing to see that and feel like a welcome guest in his world.
He had grown in the few months. I could see an independence building and a newfound way of talking about learning. He had come to respect new ideas, new lecturers. His spirituality had grown exponentially. But, deep down he was still that same person and that was a comfort to me. Even his arguments (and we still argue sometimes – cuz, well, we’re normal) were more founded and mature. You have to fight the urge to become a blubbering idiot every time he says something that makes you so deliriously proud you don’t know what to do with yourself.
The Drinking Thang
Okay. This was a hard one and a weird one, just the same. I had never been to Israel for the year. I had heard stories about Ben Yehudah Street (the hangout) but, never witnessed it with my own eyes. So, Thursday night of our visit to Israel I insisted on seeing the ‘scene’. He told me it would be a mistake. “Mom, you’ll literally be the oldest person there. You don’t want go!” I couldn’t understand what the big, freakin’ deal was. But, I should have listened to the boy.
I have never seen so many 18 and 19 year olds in one place. It was like a rave or a club that only older teens get into. I was the oldest person on the street. I also couldn’t pick my jaw up off the floor. So many teens, no matter the religious level, had beers or obviously had beers that evening. Drinking age is 18, I kept telling myself. This is legal. But, I felt like I was witnessing something I shouldn’t be. Like going into the spin the bottle game in your basement. It’s just not done.
Obviously, I now had images of my own child’s drunken stupor on a daily basis. I was enraged and shocked. Is this what I sent my child here to do? What the hell is wrong with this country!? But, once the shock and awe wore off we actually had a very open and real conversation about drinking. He got it. Without my ‘talk’ and without my supervision, my son realized the perils of too much alcohol and why that just isn’t his ‘scene’. There was method to this madness and my child was smart enough on his own not to become a lush. Proud Mama moment. Note to you Moms who are reading this and worrying now. Talk to your child about drinking all you can and want. But, realize it’s real, it’s legal and it’s super easily accessible. Tell them you trust them, tell them you won’t kill them and maybe they will share their experience with alcohol as something to ‘try’ instead of something to ‘hide’. Just a thought.
You come home to your first dinner after the trip and realize you’re still down 1 for the count. It’s sad and depressing that they’re still so far away. But, the good news- bounce back is super quick on this because you remember how happy and mature they’re becoming. Move on. With only a little ice cream…
It’s nearly 6 months since I’ve last seen my child. That’s both frighteningly long and maddening at times. I’m dying to hug that guy but, also realizing our New Normal. Visits will be visits, not living under the same roof for a while (forever? not ready to say that just yet!). He’s leaving just a short time later for college (a whole new territory). But, New Normal has taught me the value of space. He needed space to grow and get to know himself and his relationship with the world outside. And, as a parent of other wonderful children, that space allows the others in your family to shine in new light. Each of my girls has a new voice at the table, a new opportunity to feel what it’s like to be ‘the oldest’ as each chick leaves our nest for longer periods of time. And, I am certain that when we reunite with 6 at our table the joy we’ll all feel will be palpable and appreciated, instead of taken for granted.
So, now I can honestly say that the worry of the Gap Year is worth it. The tears are heartfelt and normal because the loss is real. We are losing Old Normal. Changing the way we’ve conducted parenting thus far. You aren’t a part of the every moment, but you can still be a part of the ultimate goal – independent people you’ve had the gift of raising. It isn’t easy and I find myself nostalgic at the oddest of times. But, I am excited to see how our relationship will continue to evolve.