I'm going to be a mother-in-law! (for Alia)

You are smart, lovely,  funny, easily pleased, highly opinionated, heartbreakingly insecure, thoughtfully fashionable, hilariously disorganized, brutally honest, and a perfectly lovable future daughter-in-law.

Alia, we adore you.   We are lucky to have had real time to get to know you, to see who it is- deeply, and truly-- that had our David walking on air, whistling at breakfast and grinning through dinner all that winter when you and he met.

And then you spent some time with us, disarming and charming and laughing your way into our hearts.  Your laughter comes easily and often and it's what I remember best and love most-- hearing it from everywhere in the house- you laughing, David laughing, the two of you in delight of each other and of being young and in love and together.

I watched you work out compromise, stand up to each other and also back down- a dance you seemed to practice instinctively and well.  I watched you  be thoughtful to each other, and also not so thoughtful, and then thoughtful again.  I noticed you seeing qualities in each other that you seemed to miss in yourselves, and I noticed you finding the best parts of each other to nurture.

I worried some, too, because you are both such strong and sometimes stubborn personalities-- but then you told David he was being insufferable that time, and he grinned (he actually grinned!) and so I stopped worrying.  You can hold your own (and so can he).

As much as we miss having you here I have to also admit I don't miss the unending mess in the kitchen, the tripping over laptops and cell phones, or the mounds of laundry on the couch.  It's your laughter I miss; it's you I miss (and David, too).  It's seeing you convince Jim to put in the ceiling fan I've wanted for 10 years.  It's listening to you and Addie (your future sister-in-law) talk science at the dinner table and being so grateful that you have each other and have both science and a love for travel and an appreciation of all things sparkly in common.  (or maybe the sparkly things is me, not Addie).  It's having you ask my opinion on something, or seeing you work the crossword with Jim, or hearing you admit you get a little selfish when you're tired (who doesn't?).

I hope it is apparent how much we appreciate the depth and scope of your place in our hearts.
 
Alia, you have wonderful parents who set a great example, and I like to think that Jim and I did a pretty fair job for David too- and I see in you both an ability to love and share and to work out conflict in ways that benefit you each individually and also as a couple.  I see success in your future, and lots of love and happiness, and so much laughter.

So, David- thank you. Daddy and I, and Chris and Addie, are very glad to be welcoming Alia to our family,  and we think you are a very lucky guy.

You Don't Mess With My Heart (Komen et al)

This post is in part about the Komen debacle;  if you aren't familiar with it, start here. Otherwise read on:



See this? This is my heart. My HEART.

Although this is just one of my three children, for the sake of this post, it doesn't matter which. Let this baby stand for them all. My children, my heart.

I have been spitting mad since I first heard about Komen's disastrous decision, and, like many others on hearing the news, I went promptly to Planned Parenthood's fundraising page to make a donation. In concert with so many, our swift and decisive actions made a difference. Komen is well aware of the magnitude of its mistake; I've nothing to add to that.

But I can't let it go- I'm seething-  and maybe, maybe, I can help shed some light on the depth and breadth of furious response to the Komen decision to defund Planned Parenthood.  Because I am a woman of a certain age.  And I suspect that a great number of the Planned Parenthood defenders came of age, as I did, in the 1970's. 

We were young during a pre-HIV, post Sexual-Revolution decade. Our parents weren't ready to provide education and contraceptives, so Planned Parenthood became our place to go. We trusted them and we counted on them.  And they were there for us.

At first, we went in groups- five or six at a time. We went for contraception, mostly, but we got so much more. We were 14, 15, 16 years old, and here was a place where we were treated with dignity and compassion. Here was a place we could get truthful answers and straightforward advice. Any teenager will tell you that in the world of adults, to be treated in this way is rare.  

We got pap smears and breast exams, condoms and the pill. We got information and advice, hand-holding and occasional scoldings. We got abortions, and we got pre-natal care. Planned Parenthood was our primary caregiver well into our twenties or later, until (or if) we graduated to jobs (or marriages) with medical insurance.

I was 20 years old and uninsured when my first baby was born.  My healthy pregnancy and delivery was due in part to the affordable pre-natal care I received at Planned Parenthood.  Long after I stopped using P.P. for my own medical care I counted on them to be there for my younger friends and relatives, and those who were uninsured.  I assumed they would be there for my own children and my children's children too.

I'm 51 years old now and my children, my heart, are all grown up.  It's been a lot of years since I've needed P.P., but I'll always be grateful for the good start they gave to me, my friends, and our families.  Planned Parenthood, we will ALWAYS support you. 

Lately there have been near daily attacks on our reproductive freedom, our access to health-care, to safe abortions, and to affordable and effective contraception.   It is incomprehensible.  If we have been taking what we have of these things for granted, we will no longer. Let the Komen debacle remind us of our strength, our numbers, and of what we have to lose. 

It was heartening to see women of all ages stand up for Planned Parenthood; to know that there are many more of us than there are of those misguided fanatics- religious and political- who would have us bear children we couldn't afford to feed or face a payday choice between groceries and contraception.


I have good health insurance these days and am grateful that I can go to the doctor whenever the need arises. Grateful enough that I've decided to make a donation to a fund that benefits women each time I use my insurance. Today I had a routine yearly physical. And I will make a donation to Planned Parenthood.  I am on the lookout for a cancer-specific fund to replace Komen on my list of favored charities, and am considering the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer.  (If anyone can give me a yay or nay on this one I'd appreciate it).

I'm also on the lookout for a good political organization.  I'd like to donate where my money will be used effectively to help shape policy which benefits women and children. Please leave your suggestions here.

I'm grateful to my brilliant children and the brilliant and beautiful people they have brought into my life; all of them (ALL of them) give me hope and a sense of calm amid so much turmoil, amid the public disagreements and vehement disrespect rampant among our so called leaders.  I feel like a child living with parents who don't get along; it leaves me with a near-constant stomach ache.  Or heartache, perhaps.  It's stressful.  I don't need it. 

Implicit in the job of parenting is the promise, the responsibility even, to leave the world a better place for our children. Oh, my hearts, I'm trying!

I think it is inevitable that the uber right who are trying to make or keep bad policy, or to prevent good, will eventually stupid themselves off the radar.  My hope is that we can hurry the process up a bit. Maybe spitting mad is exactly where I need to be. 

And now for something completely different...

I promise you I will never win any Mother of the Year awards.  Some of you already know that my post of October 1st went wildly, unexpectedly viral, and generated hundreds of comments plus phone calls, emails and facebook messages. Many of the messages complimented my parenting skills. It's all very flattering, but... 

My gang.

The post, if you haven't seen it yet, was actually a letter to my 19 year old daughter in college.  It began as a quick email, sent because I missed her but also because there were a couple of things I wanted to tell her.  Shortly after I sent it off I posted it in my blog, thinking it would be read by the 15 or 20 friends and family members that had been following since I started blogging in July.

Then the post went viral.  As of  today (10/09/2010), it has been seen by more than 250,000 readers, and continues to spread through the U.S., Canada,  Asia, South America, the Middle East, Australia, Europe,  and Africa. I promise you, if I had known, I would have cleaned it up a bit.  I reread it now and cringe at a few of the more awkward sentences.  I might have clarified a couple of points in more detail.  But who knew?

And how do you follow that?
With something completely different.

Because I am really not Ms. Mommy Wisdom, and truthfully a little uncomfortable in the role.  My children (2 boys, 1 girl, & one son's gf) have told me that they think I'm a great mom.  That makes me happy, and I believe it is true in the way that all loving moms are great moms.  But I need to keep it real here.  I'm as flawed as anyone, and if I had to choose a mommy hero it wouldn't be the lady with her act together and 5 great kids, it would be someone more like Anne Lamott, former alcoholic, single mom, and refreshingly honest writer.  Lamott is not a cupcake-making kind of mom, and is unapologetic about it.  Because I have sometimes felt cornered into metaphorical cupcake-making- I feel like she's my Norma Rae.  We less-than-perfect Moms need someone to hold up the UNION sign, only it let it say HUMAN instead.

I want to tell you about a couple of her essays, which I recount here from memory because I'm too lazy to trudge upstairs and find the books.  In one essay Lamott recounts the Christian story of Mary and Joseph, their extended family and fellow villagers making the long trek back home from Jerusalem when Jesus is about 12 years old.  They'd been traveling 3 days when they realize Jesus is missing.  In the large traveling crowd Mary and Joseph assumed he'd been hanging out with his cousins and the other young people. So they are worried and not too happy to have to trek back 3 days to find him.  And when they do, he's gets smart mouthy with them the way boys that age can.  And Mary?  First, relief. Then, in Lamotts wonderful vision, she starts fingering some rocks in her pocket...


In another essay Lamott relays a personal story about a time when she and her young son are traveling, and her car stalls and blocks an intersection. As she tried to start it up again she became flustered by all the horn honking and angry words of nearby drivers.  So she asked her son to take a minute and pray with her.  But it's noisy, so trying to be helpful, he rolled down his window and yelled to the honking drivers "Would you shut the fuck up? We're trying to pray here!"

  If Anne Lamott is my mommy-hero, it is because she is heart-breakingly real, and has the courage to be brutally honest about her experience of life and of parenthood.  Most of us just cannot go all the way there.  Yet here is someone who has met her shadow, befriended it, brought it into light, and survived.  Her gift to the rest of us is to say- look, what you are thinking, what you are feeling,- it's normal, it's human.  You can love your child to pieces- you could be Mary,  and still have moments you want to throw rocks at him, or worse.

Her memoir of the first year of her son's life, "Operating Instructions", should be required reading for all pregnant women and their partners.  Let us all step off the pedestal, please.


Unlike Lamott, I'm not ready to go all out honest. It takes too much courage and energy, and I'm just not there yet.  But I can confess one small thing.  I lied about the cookies. Often. 


 I've included a musical video for those of you who'd like to listen to the sound I'll always associate with a change of form......

 

Letter to my daughter (with an update 9/16/13)

Hello my girl,
I  wanted to say hi and tell you how much I miss you and that I hope your classes are going well and that you are having fun too.
But I also have to have a mommy moment-  bear with me here.  I won't take long, and I won't be saying anything I haven't already said in one form or another,  but it is important.

You may or may not have heard about the NJ college student who killed himself last week because his room-mate had posted videotape of him having sex with another guy.  A terrible, senseless tragedy.

My mommy job requires that I remind you of two essential things:
One:
Nothing ruins your life forever. NOTHING.
Two:
Nothing ruins your life forever. NOTHING.

If that young man had only waited a couple of weeks nobody would have cared- he'd have gotten past it.  People have short memories- life would have gotten better, much better.  His parents and friends? They loved him prior to the tape- they would have loved him afterward too.  A few awkward moments and then life goes on.

But when you are young you don't know that even the awkward moments are fleeting.  On this,  you just have to trust the old people.  Remember when you were really small and cried and cried over something?  Well,  it didn't last.  That's kind of what it's like- awful things happen, you feel like there's a rock in the pit of your stomach, somehow time goes by and it gets better.  I promise you, it ALWAYS gets better.

The students, a girl and boy, who were involved in the taping and posting-- they are being charged with bias crime, invasion of privacy and possibly other things.  Their college life is over.  They will have to live with this death the rest of their lives-- and their families are devastated.  What they did was so wrong- but also so kid-stupid.  Not to mention mean. And so their lives will be different forever- but even so- their families will love them and they will have time enough to hopefully live in such a way as to make meaning from their mistake.

So, my beautiful girl,  never, ever think something is unfixable.  NOTHING you do will ever keep us from loving you.  NOTHING you do could be so awful you can't get past it.

And if someone is mean to you, and it isn't something you can ignore-- seek out people to talk to about it.  Surround yourself with people who are supportive.  If you ever need help and don't know how to ask- try writing a letter instead.  And right now- before you might need such help- think about who you would talk to if needed.  In the midst of turmoil sometimes we don't always think as clearly- having a plan makes it easier to find help in crisis.  And remember there are always alternatives. Always.

Finally, don't be mean.  Don't let other people be mean.
Stand up for the underdog, protect those who aren't as smart or confident or easygoing as yourself.
Treat people's feelings like fragile little puppies- if you play with them- be gentle.

I love you so much and I know you really don't need me to tell you this stuff.... but it's my job.
Love and hugs,
Mommy


Addendum 9/16/13

It's been nearly 3 years since this letter was published, went viral, reached a global audience, and ended up permanently linked from multiple websites including Ellen Degenere's.  Some wonderful students even made it into an anti-bullying video.  (I've included links below).

I am humbled and grateful to all those who reached out to tell me what my letter meant to them-- thank you.  I am so glad that the letter continues to reach a wide audience.

There has been some positive news- teen pregnancy is down, gay marriage approval is increased and there are more successful anti-bully programs then ever.  New Jersey passed new statewide rules which prohibit public school athletes, coaches and even fans from using  language against the gender, ethnicity, sexual orientation, religion or disability of an athlete.  When I was young it was common in sports to hear words like "pussy", "faggot", and "retard".  Today it will get you kicked out of the game or out of the stands.  So there is progress.

Unfortunately a quick look at some statistics indicates a disturbing increase in suicide rates among young people this year (2013). I leave it to the experts to speculate on the causes, but clearly there is still work to be done so that our children can grow up feeling hopeful and supported.

On a lighter note, I am delighted to report that the original reader of this letter, my daughter, graduated last June and is currently happily employed in the field of her choosing. She and her siblings are all out of the nest and doing well, for which I am very, very grateful.

http://www.ellentv.com/2010/10/14/a-touching-letter-to-a-daughter/

http://youtu.be/zs8f-bPdya