parenting


14
May 12

Wielding a heavy hammer and nine other things I learned from Mom.

Mothers and daughters are complicated. Especially those who belong to each other.

My mother and I have different strengths but our core is the same.

We are both creative; she is slide rule and drafting board creative.

I am pile-the-drafting-board-high-with-projects-I-want-to-try creative. And forget about ever finding the slide rule.

I love her dearly and this Monday Listicles mention 10 of the many things I learned from her.

 

 

10.  Fried catfish and grits are perfectly acceptable for breakfast.

9.    Take your make-up off every night before bed.

(No matter what Lady Gaga does.)

8.     Take your children to church.

I’ve relaxed on the dress code with this. But I do insist on shoes. No use perpetuating a small Southern town stereotype.

7.   Love is shown by action — not necessarily words or physical affection.

My mother is not big on hugs or saying I love you — but she worked like a horse helping me fix up all the various old houses we’ve lived in.

6.   No sacrifice is too great for your children. Self goes second.

She gave up a career as a promising commercial office interior designer in pre-Disney Orlando when she got married. I love looking at her color drafts of projects. They look straight out a set design for Mad Men.

5.   Keep scissors and a hammer handy.

4.   Hanging wallpaper is a possibility.

She is a great paper hanger. She convinced me to try and I know that I can keep an old plaster wall from falling if necessary.

3.   Worry.

Taken most of my life to try to unlearn this one.

2.   Take time alone with God everyday.

1.    Honor your mother.

I loved my maternal grandmother. She was soft-spoken and kind. I wish I had been able to spend more time with her as a child.

 

Yes, from my mother’s  example I believe;

Accolades and things are fleeting — what matters is how you conduct yourself in front of your children for anything worthwhile is mostly caught rather than taught.

What are some things you learned from your mum?

 

 

 


27
Apr 12

No more brace face. Or I’m a bad mommy blogger.

I don’t brag on my kids. My dad bragged way too much on me and if anything, I am too slow to praise mine in front of others.

No, I don’t brag about my kids. I blog about them…which is probably far worse.

My son, my dear almost-ready-to-graduate-son got his braces off yesterday.

Before….

 

And when I picked him up an hour later.

 Yes, I am taking pictures these days not only for material for posts but because…

He is leaving me!!!!!!!!

A friend who has another senior son has been posting pictures on her Facebook page of their middle school and high school years.

Every time I’m tagged in a post and I look at some great moment in my child’s life, I can’t help but think…

WHERE WAS I? WHERE WAS MY CAMERA?

Maybe this blogging thing is my record.

Like scribes we are recording our families’ evolution…for whomever in the world happens to click on the blog.

Is it right?

I really don’t know. When my father saw me vigorously twittering on my phone he said, “It’s just not natural.”

I don’t know if it’s natural but my son turning into a young man is very natural — but most unnatural to me.

After four years he got his braces off yesterday.

What I’m really wondering is how did the rest of him change so fast in four years — without any money or brackets or wires?

What about you? Are there things you won’t post on a blog or Facebook?

 


25
Oct 11

Musing on an almost Monumental Momfail. Senior Night for Football @MorganCoHS

I try.

The motto of every good mom.

I try to remember the parent teacher conferences, the reading to my child every night, the throwing open  of my house to their friends with chocolate-chip cookies toasting in the oven.

But I fall short. Lots. I just pray it’s not on the stuff that matters. Guess we’ll really never know what stuff was the big stuff till they are accepting the Academy Award saying how their mother forgot to show up the day their class went to the zoo. Oops.

(That wasn’t true. But a few parent teacher conferences might have slipped through when in the throes of training for my midlife triathlon crisis.)

*     *     *

Last Friday night was the night that all moms, dads and significant persons in the lives of senior band members, football players and cheerleaders were to escort them on the field.

I was told to be there at 7 p.m.

At 6 p.m. get a call from husband that there is no way he will be there. The interstates around Atlanta are a parking lot.

I remember I have no car. My car was with senior son at already football field.

Place a call to dear in-laws. They will pick us up and have us there.

Fine.

*      *      *

7:05 p.m.

I get out of my in-laws’ car in parking lot.

I hear overhead announcer. You know — one of those great booming voices that carry out across a two-square mile radius from stadium.

I think…that sounds like names. Yes, those definitely were names.

I start to run with children in tow.

I blow pass A.D. Coach Cisson manning the gates as I ask, “Are they already on the field?”

He shakes his head “yes.”

Cr*p.

It was one of those moments I didn’t care the fool I looked like sprinting across the field to my son. I just wanted to make it. I dropped my purse and camera at the edge of the field.

What follows is my 10 year olds photo essay of the next 10 minutes after my sprint to my oldest son.

We are out there somewhere.

 

 

I made it.

 

 A child she knew. I hope this was a child I knew.

 

Leaving the field. I have the look of a woman who is calling an emergency meeting of the right and left sides of her brain.

 

Child Number 3. Who knows where his mother is?

 

As the parents are making the tunnel for the players to run through onto the field — I get the camera.

 

Dad arrives.

 

Then I look up to Number 46 carrying the flag.

How did he get so big? Especially with a mom that has to sprint to be at his side.

 

It was a great night all around.

And so many dear friends took pictures with their cameras.

 

I think he still cares. Though all he asks me is “What’s for dinner” and “Mommy, will you make me some Gatorade?”

Have you ever almost missed out on a parent-better-be-there-moment?


16
Oct 11

Musing on the Blue Hose. Go You Hoseheads.

The last time I wore pantyhose was sometime mid-1990.

It was some variation of flesh-tone. Certainly not blue.

Get this.

Men wear blue hose. It’s like a Scottish Thing. Think Mel Gibson in Braveheart.

When I see picture of Mel with that flowing tangled-mess of hair and blue face it almost makes me forget how really bizarre he ended up.

Welcome to Whoville?

 

We went to see the Presbyterian College Blue Hose play on Saturday. It was a visit for prospective football players and after a few minutes there having a school team called the Blue Hose seemed well, not so odd. Go figure.

First, we went to a meeting with the coaches. Head Coach Harold Nichols gave a very inspiring talk. I didn’t take pictures. I thought about it — lots.

But I chose to forgo taking pictures at that point in lieu of having my son acknowledge me as his mother for rest of my life.

Finally, I said darn it. I’m a mom with a blog. I have journalistic momblog integrity to consider.

 

*     *     *

I started snapping away.

 

Their lockers were all pretty neat. And I didn't notice any locker room smell but my sinuses have been rather irritated of late.

We toured the campus  then had a great lunch with the Homecoming crowd. I should have taken a picture of my plate. EXCELLENT barbecue, fried chicken and everything else.

I ate it all.

 

The day could not have been more beautiful. I was so very full.

 

I wanted to nap.

But we went to the game. Go you Blue HOSERS.

 

 

Jake hung out on sidelines before game.

 

Yawn. I tried to stay awake.

Then the cowbells started. We sat behind Number 16′s loved ones.

 

Lots of scoring by the Blue.

 

Number 24 had awesome game. Kind of like I used to for the Thetas.

 

The SMU Thetas. SMU Ponies 5 and 1. Woo.

(I digress.)

More cowbell.

 

The Blue Hose beat Gardner-Webb 28-14.

And after the game all the families went on the field to see the players — which I thought was pretty cool.

That Number 24 again. Just like they used to interview me after intramurals.

 

My Jake.

 

It was great day.

And I learned about blue men’s hosiery.

 

Were you at a football game Saturday?

I hope not at Jordan-Hare….ugh.

But I digress.