Two days ago, I spent the majority of the day schlepping backpacks and my children in and out of airports.
Travel, particularly, holiday comings and goings bring out the best and worst in people.
Airline attendants adorned in elf hats, brightly colored red and green Santa plaid hand out candy canes as children skip down the walkway eagerly anticipating their grandparents' big smiles and hugs on the other end of the flight.
Juxtaposed to the sweet moments are the harried ones, where someone is frantic to get on the next flight or is grappling with a sobbing little one confined to a seat with painful air pressure that can't be managed when you can't chew gum and unplug your ears.
My absolute favorite, new travel moment occurred in the Phoenix airport when a woman brought her dog into the bathroom and "Reginald" decided to venture underneath his stall and hang out in mine watching me as I tried to take a shit.
Mindful, that this was all kinds of fucked up, I kept waiting for the owner to yank Reginald's leash and force him to go back into her stall. Instead, she just said, "Come on, Reginald. Give her some privacy." To which, he said, "Fuck you...I rather like watching this girl take care of her business." Lovely.
If you can get past the craziness of flying with children especially, when it never fails that one of your daughters will puke up her lunch as you descend over the mountains, causing you to want to barf but requiring you to hold it together because you have to be the grown up...
well then, you'll make it to the dinner table with all of the amazing crazy cats gathered. And you'll have a little wine and then you'll polish off the bottle and then, you'll open a new one, and realize that you're not driving for a week and that you're cell phone carrier sucks an asshole in the house you're staying in and so, if you're going to garner intelligent dialogue, now's the time to do it...even if you find yourself going on a diatribe about well, the most important subject one can study in school.
To which, the majority of the table responded with math.
And, I thought, that's insane. It's of course, reading and writing.
At the end of the day, communication is what makes the world go round and your ability to state your needs while being able to decipher the needs of the other and ultimately, mesh the two...to me, seems vital.
To others, the consensus was that the world is comprised of black and white; right and wrong and that at the end of the day, no matter whichever way you slice it...one plus one equals two.
Pshaw, I lamented. This is why I hate standardized tests. They are not a good measure of what one brings to the table. If you want to know who I am and what I know, sit down and interview me. Ask me elaborate questions. Make me probe and give you details. Life cannot be summed up in multiple choice answers or true and false statements. The answers to life live in the gray...at least for me.
And this is where holiday gatherings are a hoot. Because really, when else do you find yourself engaging in these semi-heated, traditionally meaningless diatribes of banter until all you have is time, booze and a head full of thoughts?
Thank God, we didn't talk politics. I can't easily get home from here and I fear that I lean a little too far left for my better half's family, but I am abundantly grateful that they put up with my wine-induced, feminist soap boxes.
I suppose that's the beauty of family. We find all kinds of ways to love each other, especially when it involves opening sparkly packages, gathering around yummy meals and watching our little one's grow. Here's to the holidays...
Showing posts with label Kindness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kindness. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Sunday, December 6, 2015
Spirit of Generosity
Maybe its because the volume of arguing and subsequent refereeing this week had been off the charts...that I was taken aback.
Somewhere between my Sunday morning dose of the New York Times, a hot cup of coffee, a quick shower and running out the door for mass, I saw this.
Sam was helping his little sister, Kate read music and master a song for her afternoon lesson. He was kind and compassionate especially when she was ready to throw in the towel. He seemed to know how to guide her in a way that was palatable, when she had been kicking and screaming otherwise. Calm and steady, his approach was both surprising and simultaneously reassuring. By God, they actually do love and care about each other.
Which is a silly thing to say...but sometimes, well, many times when the shit storms are coming fast and furious, you wonder as a mother whether you did the right thing by having more than one.
And as I watch them maneuver through homework, ballet, friendships, talent shows, family gatherings, sickness and Elf on the Shelf joy...I'm mindful that much to my dismay, they're getting big. Sam is turning 11 in February and Kate is 8 turning 38...which leaves nothing to be said for our youngest, Claire who turns 5 next week, but believes she's a grown woman as well.
And the truth is that I want a lot for them. I have really, maybe exceedingly high expectations. But at the very tippy-top of that list, above all else for a long way before the second item is kindness. I yearn for them to have a heart of kindness and a spirit of generosity. And when they see someone in need, I want it to hurt badly enough that they think...what can I do to help?
Paralyzed by watching our latest presidential candidates parade while simultaneously, standing horrified by the mass shootings that now seem to take place at the drop of a hat, I have never been more certain that we have lost sight of one another and that ultimately, in every way, we belong to each other.
And the belonging doesn't have to be in grand gestures, it starts at home. It starts by putting your arm around your crazy kid sister who drives you bonkers and who on most days you wish would vacate the planet, but for a brief moment you're willing to overlook all of that to help her find a b flat. It starts by saying, I don't know you, but here's something of mine that I really don't need that you could use and that's enough.
In the end, it's just not that hard. To be kind to another with a smile or a quarter or a lift or a prayer or a coat...it's just what you do and it doesn't take that much time or skin off your back.
As they grow, I want all three of them to lean on each other. I want them to have the kind of relationship where they instinctively depend on the other, even if they don't always agree or most of the time, don't. I want them to model with each other what I hope they'll give to their fellow neighbor. It's just too important....for today and for always.
Somewhere between my Sunday morning dose of the New York Times, a hot cup of coffee, a quick shower and running out the door for mass, I saw this.
Sam was helping his little sister, Kate read music and master a song for her afternoon lesson. He was kind and compassionate especially when she was ready to throw in the towel. He seemed to know how to guide her in a way that was palatable, when she had been kicking and screaming otherwise. Calm and steady, his approach was both surprising and simultaneously reassuring. By God, they actually do love and care about each other.
Which is a silly thing to say...but sometimes, well, many times when the shit storms are coming fast and furious, you wonder as a mother whether you did the right thing by having more than one.
And as I watch them maneuver through homework, ballet, friendships, talent shows, family gatherings, sickness and Elf on the Shelf joy...I'm mindful that much to my dismay, they're getting big. Sam is turning 11 in February and Kate is 8 turning 38...which leaves nothing to be said for our youngest, Claire who turns 5 next week, but believes she's a grown woman as well.
And the truth is that I want a lot for them. I have really, maybe exceedingly high expectations. But at the very tippy-top of that list, above all else for a long way before the second item is kindness. I yearn for them to have a heart of kindness and a spirit of generosity. And when they see someone in need, I want it to hurt badly enough that they think...what can I do to help?
Paralyzed by watching our latest presidential candidates parade while simultaneously, standing horrified by the mass shootings that now seem to take place at the drop of a hat, I have never been more certain that we have lost sight of one another and that ultimately, in every way, we belong to each other.
And the belonging doesn't have to be in grand gestures, it starts at home. It starts by putting your arm around your crazy kid sister who drives you bonkers and who on most days you wish would vacate the planet, but for a brief moment you're willing to overlook all of that to help her find a b flat. It starts by saying, I don't know you, but here's something of mine that I really don't need that you could use and that's enough.
In the end, it's just not that hard. To be kind to another with a smile or a quarter or a lift or a prayer or a coat...it's just what you do and it doesn't take that much time or skin off your back.
As they grow, I want all three of them to lean on each other. I want them to have the kind of relationship where they instinctively depend on the other, even if they don't always agree or most of the time, don't. I want them to model with each other what I hope they'll give to their fellow neighbor. It's just too important....for today and for always.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
When it comes from Love...
We gather.
Sometimes over a glass of wine or a flute of champagne.
Sometimes over a piping hot cup of coffee or a mug of tea.
Sometimes its an impromptu emergency. One of us has to get out of the house and needs to see our faces and hear our voices.
Other times, it's planned and we all climb in the car and take a trip.
We say, "Fuck," a lot.
Collectively, we have 17 children between us and well, when it's inappropriate to curse in front of the littles....we yearn to unleash the fury of the four-letter word with our inner circle of girlfriends.
We cry when it's hard and someone is facing something that is uncertain, unfair, or just plain hurts.
But mostly, we laugh especially when "J" graces us with her colorful dialogue....reminding us that most of the time, it's okay to "Focker Out, Bitches."
And so it went last night. Someone's husband was out of town, so we rallied the troops, the truffles, the red wine, and the morale.
And that's when I learned a powerful lesson....that I just keep ruminating on.
I've always had this thing I do. I suppose like a good Catholic, I feel that if overall, I'm doing the right thing for the good of my family and friends that in general, good things will come my way. Conversely, I harbor irrational fear that if I slip up and don't do the right thing that I'm doomed to have something tragic come down the pike.
Expressing this crazy philosophy with my besties, one friend said, "Nothing bad comes when decisions/choices are made from a place of love." And it's hard to focus on the negative hypothetical, when even in the midst of semi-regret, you keep your eye on gratitude and the multiple blessings that abound in your life.
And so, at the gym this morning, I thought....it's time to start making decisions that emanate from love and not fear. Because in the end, we have control over so little and ultimately, bad things will happen regardless of our actions...so, focusing our choices from a place of warmth, kindness, and love can only be a good thing....regardless of the outcome.
Post lots of chocolate noshing and champagne guzzling, I realized on my late night drive home that I am extraordinarily blessed to call these girls friends. Every last fucking one of them.
Sometimes over a glass of wine or a flute of champagne.
Sometimes over a piping hot cup of coffee or a mug of tea.
Sometimes its an impromptu emergency. One of us has to get out of the house and needs to see our faces and hear our voices.
Other times, it's planned and we all climb in the car and take a trip.
We say, "Fuck," a lot.
Collectively, we have 17 children between us and well, when it's inappropriate to curse in front of the littles....we yearn to unleash the fury of the four-letter word with our inner circle of girlfriends.
We cry when it's hard and someone is facing something that is uncertain, unfair, or just plain hurts.
But mostly, we laugh especially when "J" graces us with her colorful dialogue....reminding us that most of the time, it's okay to "Focker Out, Bitches."
And so it went last night. Someone's husband was out of town, so we rallied the troops, the truffles, the red wine, and the morale.
And that's when I learned a powerful lesson....that I just keep ruminating on.
I've always had this thing I do. I suppose like a good Catholic, I feel that if overall, I'm doing the right thing for the good of my family and friends that in general, good things will come my way. Conversely, I harbor irrational fear that if I slip up and don't do the right thing that I'm doomed to have something tragic come down the pike.
Expressing this crazy philosophy with my besties, one friend said, "Nothing bad comes when decisions/choices are made from a place of love." And it's hard to focus on the negative hypothetical, when even in the midst of semi-regret, you keep your eye on gratitude and the multiple blessings that abound in your life.
And so, at the gym this morning, I thought....it's time to start making decisions that emanate from love and not fear. Because in the end, we have control over so little and ultimately, bad things will happen regardless of our actions...so, focusing our choices from a place of warmth, kindness, and love can only be a good thing....regardless of the outcome.
Post lots of chocolate noshing and champagne guzzling, I realized on my late night drive home that I am extraordinarily blessed to call these girls friends. Every last fucking one of them.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Public Parenting
I learned a long time ago that judging parenting in public rarely makes sense.
Most of the time, parents are stressed. Kids are tired of being drug from one place to the next. And everyone just wants it to be over.
But the other day at Target, I found myself inches away from an altercation.
Our neighborhood store is growing from a regular Target into a super store. You know, one that offers fresh fruits and vegetables and other grocery items. So, there's construction everywhere. The lay of the land has changed and no longer is it an easy gig to get in and get out. Everyone's adjusting.
So, as I was wandering up and down the linen aisles looking for baby goods, I heard a little boy, probably 5 or 6 whining. Nothing new. My kids do it all the time. In fact, when they're not, that's when I know I'm in trouble...because most likely, they're in cahoots organizing a big brewhaha.
It wasn't the little boy wailing that got me. It was his piss poor of an excuse for a mother that I wanted to strangle. Getting in too late on the conversation, I didn't hear what he wanted...but his mother's response was something like, "Keep dreaming...who do you think you are...I make the money around here...forget about it."
Now all of these things may be true. He may be dreaming big Lego dreams. She may be the bread winner. And, he may never see the toy in his home....but for the love of God...why do you have to be such a bitch about it?
I have long believed that kiddos deserve respect. They understand everything we say in their presence and they model our behaviors. And when we fail them or the situation, they deserve an apology...as we may give to our partner or to a coworker.
And believe me, the whole store would hear an earful, if I asked any one of my kids who they thought they were? All I'm asking is that when it's time to discipline, do it as benevolently as possible. Children are people too who deserve kindness even when they're on our last nerve.
Most of the time, parents are stressed. Kids are tired of being drug from one place to the next. And everyone just wants it to be over.
But the other day at Target, I found myself inches away from an altercation.
Our neighborhood store is growing from a regular Target into a super store. You know, one that offers fresh fruits and vegetables and other grocery items. So, there's construction everywhere. The lay of the land has changed and no longer is it an easy gig to get in and get out. Everyone's adjusting.
So, as I was wandering up and down the linen aisles looking for baby goods, I heard a little boy, probably 5 or 6 whining. Nothing new. My kids do it all the time. In fact, when they're not, that's when I know I'm in trouble...because most likely, they're in cahoots organizing a big brewhaha.
It wasn't the little boy wailing that got me. It was his piss poor of an excuse for a mother that I wanted to strangle. Getting in too late on the conversation, I didn't hear what he wanted...but his mother's response was something like, "Keep dreaming...who do you think you are...I make the money around here...forget about it."
Now all of these things may be true. He may be dreaming big Lego dreams. She may be the bread winner. And, he may never see the toy in his home....but for the love of God...why do you have to be such a bitch about it?
I have long believed that kiddos deserve respect. They understand everything we say in their presence and they model our behaviors. And when we fail them or the situation, they deserve an apology...as we may give to our partner or to a coworker.
And believe me, the whole store would hear an earful, if I asked any one of my kids who they thought they were? All I'm asking is that when it's time to discipline, do it as benevolently as possible. Children are people too who deserve kindness even when they're on our last nerve.
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