A Mother's Reflections: Post Election Day 2016

To My Daughters:

Yesterday I proudly, and with great expectation, cast my vote for Hillary Rodham Clinton. I lived to see the first African-American president and I felt certain I was going to see the first woman become the 45^th president of the United States. However, it was not so.

I am heart broken. While I am working through the disappointment of “that highest and hardest glass ceiling” still existing – I am even more discouraged by what the election of Donald J. Trump means for and about our country. He has campaigned with careless calls to violence, bigotry, racism, sexism, and xenophobia. He has taken the long covert, shamefully lingering intolerance of our past and allowed it to once again be acceptable and overt.

He has preyed on our fear and weaponized it against us. And with great sadness I tell you, people rallied behind such a message. The darkness of America’s heart was revealed to the world when we validated his rhetoric with votes cast in his favor. Most of the people we know voted for him. Indeed, I believe it is safe to say all of my family of origin are on his side of history.

But, it is important to me that you know on this most emotional day that your father and I continue to stand for tolerance, integrity, and the civil rights of ALL people – not just those deemed worthy.

Know that because of the courage of generations before us, our country has evolved and grown to at least know more about what “right” looks like, to better understand civic duty, inclusivity, and justice. As history lovers we have read that once upon a time the natives of this land were stolen from, murdered, and all but destroyed. Our black friends were bought and sold as slaves, our children forced into labor, our Chinese-Americans placed in internment camps, our women denied even the right to read, work, or vote. All of these great injustices and many more, were once political topics that impacted the American economy and divided families. What now seems egregious, was once acceptable and preferred. What now seems acceptable and preferred, I believe, will one day also seem egregious to a wiser and kinder generation.

As we look back with great awe on the founding centuries of our country let us also find gratitude and respect for those who were brave enough to effect change, even when they felt that they stood alone. As the election results became clear into the evening hours I felt a horrid cloak of loneliness take hold of me. I, like most of our nation, was shocked by the results and with that came a feeling that I did not know my country or my countrymen as I thought I did.

You, my valiant girls, will not have the luxury of passivity or ignorance. You will never know what it is like to fit perfectly in with the masses and comfortably accept the status quo. This is simply not your destiny. I wish I could make life so easy for you…but even I could not force it upon you. In your veins flows the blood of thinkers, doers, feelers – people who must and will know more and do better. While your father and I value knowledge, tolerance, and betterment – these are simply resources for illustration that we offer to you. What we already know of each of you is that inquiry and justice are in your nature.

Remember to be brave, be kind, and when you fear something your greatest defense is to learn more. My world is better than my mother’s world and I believe that one day your world will be better than mine. Embrace that which sets you a part. That search for truth that can be so painful does not seem to be intrinsic for everyone – but it is a beautiful burden for those of whom it flowers and grows inside.

While, today, I am fettered by layers of disappointment and worry for the days and years to come, I put my faith in those agents of change. They have always existed, persisted, and they/we will not be quieted now. Leaders will come and go – evolutions of thought and theory will ever thrust us forward.

“And to all of the little girls who are watching this, never doubt that you are valuable and powerful and deserving of every chance and opportunity in the world to pursue and achieve your own dreams.”

                                                -Hillary Clinton Concession Speech 2016

Chronicles of the Ambitious Mother: Babies and Business Trips

It was a high moment. I had just finished an exhilarating meeting with the heads of the division and it seemed my contribution was meaningful. They were thrilled that I joined the team and I was flattered that they had asked. Normally, I would have been spinning with ideas, anxious to fulfill my action items and knock their socks off. Instead, I was pacing the terminal and pouting about the snow falling rapidly outside the large windows. I knew the odds were mounting against me and that I might not make it home to see my kiddos.

I approached the gate attendant and inquired about my delayed flight. Her voice was gruff and as she punched around on the keyboard I, for the first time, noticed her. She looked serious, no nonsense. I was surprised that I hadn't noticed this sooner, I felt lucky that she didn't bark at me for speaking to her in the first place.

She assured me that the snow was no big deal and that worst case scenario there were more flights to Tulsa were I to miss my connection. I walked away and continued my nervous pace...might as well burn some calories if I'm too distracted to work.

I thought of the opportunity I had been given. I considered how torn I felt about it. I was on an upward trajectory. I had something to offer and I was fortunate enough to work for folks who wanted to capitalize on those talents. I felt like the sky was the limit. I also felt a pang in my gut every time a baby or a young child strolled by.

Ten years ago I would have grabbed hungrily at all the possibilities before me. I would have readily traveled the globe and lost track of cities and time zones. But, there I was, standing in a terminal full of people, feeling lonely and homesick. When I was young I didn't have room for homesick. There were too many great things ahead that I didn't want to miss. Now, the greatest of all things sat at home in Disney pajamas making messes and giggling at one another. The allure of perceived success and contribution still existed for me. However, nothing meant more than time with my daughters and husband.

I felt like a fraud as I considered these things. I marched around in lipstick and heels with ideas and strategies and all the while I was really just a mushy mom with sticky spots in my hair and a diaper in my purse. Who taught me that these things were incongruent?

Finally, my plane arrived and off came a beleaguered mother and her very young toddler. Exasperated, she asked the scary gate attendant for a wheel chair. As her little one screamed and drew the billion eyes of the terminal crowd she explained that she was a navy nurse moving to Minnesota from California. Through swallows of air she announced that she had been in a car wreck and she could barely walk let alone pick up her distressed child.

I stood there watching her with complete empathy. As I pondered how to approach her the gate attendant that I had so unfairly judged asked to hold the child. With the mother's approval she playfully wooshed him into the air with smiles and a silly, child-friendly greeting. In an instant she calmed him, gained his trust, and had him smiling. Here in the chaos and the bad weather and frustrated travelers she had stopped time for me with this not so small act of kindness.

My eyes filled with tears. I fought them back with embarrassment as a lump formed in my throat. I was touched by her kindness, by the child's sweetness, the mother's desperation. I wanted to smile, to cry, to applaud, to join the attendant in playing with this little child. I blinked and put away my tears, thinking of those who might notice. I heard the critical voice of some tired, old school-of-thought mocking me with my well-traveled bag and laptop of ideas and heart of ambition. I heard it size me up and seeing my vulnerabilities say, "see! This is why women shouldn't be leaders." And I thought, perhaps, this is exactly why we should. 

Doing it ALL - Reflections of a Modern Mom

                

Reflections of a Modern Mommy

“Doing it all”

It really isn't a matter of having it all. It’s all there, ripe for my taking. Now that generations of courageous women have worked tirelessly to offer me the option of, “it all,” I am simply overwhelmed by the options. No, it isn't a matter of having it all. Frankly, it’s a matter of doing it all.

I drive to work, the few moments in the day when I am actually alone. Showers and restroom breaks don’t count. Nothing is sacred in our home. I drive and I think of all the things I must do. I don’t mean laundry and dishes, those are constants. I’m talking about the extracurricular necessities that consume this modern woman.

The preschool teacher needs recycling items for a classroom project. Yes! I can do that. Now, to remember to load the car on Friday when I take my oldest daughter to preschool. Perhaps I should just drive around all week with the items in tow so I don’t have to remember that task on Friday morning. They also need plastic eggs for the egg hunt, and don’t forget the Mommy breakfast coming up in a few weeks.

My daughter loves that new Disney princess but finding the dress is impossible. Supply and demand were grossly miscalculated. So, of course I buy a sewing machine and attempt to make her a princess dress. Let’s not even discuss the outcome. I worry that I’m not doing enough with her to help her progress in math and reading. She’s four but I’m sure her potential is boundless. What could she be and do if I invested more time in her learning? Do I yell at her too much? Is she always in trouble? Do I foster envy and frustration with her younger sister because I’m constantly trying to keep her from accidentally killing our two year old?

Will daddy always be the good guy? I know it isn't a competition but there is some irrepressible immaturity in me that permits a feeling of failure when she shows preference to him. I buy her a frilly skirt, wash it, and lay it out on Sunday for her to wear to school on Monday. I put away everyone’s clothes on Sunday and check the weather to ensure they have appropriate outfits to wear each day. Preferably something they won’t toss to the floor and refuse to wear. It’s a delicate talent I’m still honing. She loves the skirt, twirls and grins and assumes it was daddy’s work. Alas, it doesn't matter. I am thrilled that she likes it and I've got one more item that is toss-proof. I remind myself that I’m a genius for marrying this man, an excellent father and husband. Of course he is everyone’s favorite…even mine.

My youngest is two now. We have to rid her of the beloved binky soon, do I have the strength? Potty training is on the horizon. I've got to find a way to get her to let me brush her teeth at night. She screams and cups her mouth. It’s quite a scene. They watch too much television. No one else seems to have this crutch. Why are we so lenient with television? Oh yes, we’re staggering through each day packing lunches, fighting over getting dressed for school, begging them to stay out of the road, prompting them to take one more bite of dinner, chasing them down for bath time, surviving the screams as we gently brush out their hair, reading just one more book, and inevitably falling asleep on the floor beside their beds as we wait for them to fall asleep. Then comes the guilty crawl to freedom, the one where I hate the crunch of the carpet beneath my feet and the annoying springs in the door knob as I cautiously turn it and pray they don’t stir from all the “noise.” Yes, I've read the books on sleep training and I know all too well that I’m doing it wrong. Get in line.

Precious alone time! So, do I pick up the toys and pitch the dirty clothes into the hamper…the ones that are strewn about in every single room. Perhaps I should jump on the elliptical. We will discuss that momentarily. Better yet, I should seduce my husband and fan the flame, right? They say married couples are intimate twice a week on average. I call BS. He’s still asleep on the floor in my other daughter’s room. I wonder if I should wake him or allow him this nap, which I know he loves. We settle in comfortably and watch television until 10, 10:30 if we’re feeling crazy and careless.

It’s difficult to “do” it all. Mother and wife are my greatest titles. Yet, I am a woman who needs additional titles. I like to work. I like to be the best. Offering my commitment, my mind, my ideas to an organization and to the people I work with are a value for me. I have a need to achieve. I have tried to put it away. It won’t be put away. I've spent a lifetime wishing to squash my competitive nature, my shameful ambition. But it seems to be who I am and I struggle to understand any other way.

That might be okay if I didn't have additional…undying aspirations. There is something very important to me that I recently decided to pursue with renewed determination. It’s always been important to me and if I’d had more guts I would have studied it in college. I can’t let it go. It haunts me. I have a nagging feeling that I’m missing something when I’m not running after it. So, I've decided to practice this dusty old skill and put it to the test. I have encountered only rejection thus far. Yet, I don’t want to give up. Unfortunately, it’s a devouring process. It eats at my thoughts, my time, my attentions. When I’m in –I’m all in. But I am not sure I can be excellent and devoted to everything…and I truly hate to give way to that painful realization.

I want to be an outstanding mother. I want my daughters to have happy lives and to learn and grow and achieve. Gymnastics is growing old for us. We’re such wimps. Imagine the fun when we sign up for spring swim classes as well. How can we complain? We know that lurking just around the corner is a soccer commitment, maybe dance or cheer leading – god, help me. Surely, they should learn a musical instrument. And we must find time for civic duty, art exposure, and isn't it best to learn a foreign language when you’re very young? It’ll never happen, but my intentions are grand.

I don’t want to just show up at school events. I want to support them. I want the teacher to know she can count on me. I’ll stay up late with my hot glue gun, my mixing bowls, my markers, and my recycling. I am compelled to do so. I can do it all, right? I can go to every event, participate, bake cookies, bring a pasta salad, grab an extra bottle of foam soap for the classroom. It all seems pointless when I forget to bring snacks on our scheduled day. Fail.

And I just went to the store. I had to purchase my weekly lunch plan. You know, prepare a healthy lunch every night so I won’t be as tempted by the burger place down the street or the candy dish that sits outside my office door. Something changed and I don’t like it. I miss the days of Doritos and candy bars. I’m too young to have to worry about this, right? I smell chocolate and the buttons pop off my pants. How many times will I have to run up the stairs at work to burn off that m&m? Can I possibly count calories every day for the rest of my life? Absolutely…no way.

How can I push that stroller up the hill against the wind for a half hour and only burn 98 calories? How can I be so hungry all the time and the stupid scale relentlessly says, “Have another cupcake, chubs!” Why does it bother me so much? Why do I immediately check out women carrying infants to see if their midsections are as telling as mine? Moreover, how do they all look so good so fast? More time on the elliptical. I can do an hour and when I’m really motivated, I do an hour every day. I could go longer if my feet didn't hurt so badly. Thank you vanity, thank you stilettos. I simply can’t keep it all up. It takes forever to prepare the same healthy foods day in and day out. I really dislike exercise. I’d rather be eating popcorn and watching reality television. Strike that, I’d rather be eating ice cream and popcorn and watching reality television. Calorie restriction is for the birds. Nevertheless, there is some expectation that penetrates deeply – catapulting me along the miserable path to fitness.

All this while I see my face changing too. There are more lines and some of them don’t go away even when I make no expression. My hairdresser suggested that women my age often begin botox treatments. She always compares me to her mother. Doesn't that little nitwit know that she’s only five years younger than me? I’m not sure how it is that age has crept onto my radar. Perhaps it was my goofy hairdresser, maybe it’s because I NEVER get carded. I think everyone struggles with aging. But it’s especially difficult when your life long identity was partly as, “a pretty girl”. When it was or is too important, it’s hard to let go of it. I’m working to redefine that part of myself. I’m light years from who I once was…and yet, there are light years to go. I suppose it’s hard-wiring. Some things take time to overcome. Sometimes we have to accept that there are things we can’t overcome. I run from the same demons my mother ran from and hope to find a way to protect my daughters from the same fate. Insecurities are nearly genetic.

If I succeed, they’ll appreciate the healthy options, but never count calories. They’ll remember their sunscreen but skip the botox. They’ll stay active but they won’t loath a machine for it. If I succeed, they’ll do it all better than I did.

But in a world of Pinterest, PTA’s, and plastic smiles…will they too feel overcome by the need to do it all? Will they strive to keep neat little houses with magazine décor and weed-free flower beds? Will it be their mission to have good hair days, soft feet, and firm abs? Will they paint their nails every Monday on the drive to work because it’s the only time that no one needs their nose wiped, diaper changed, or boo-boo kissed? Will they surrender to the notion that even though they can have it all…they don’t have to do it all? I know I certainly haven’t, and I get the feeling that I’m not alone.

Happy Birthday Mattie Jewel!

Today my great-grandmother would have been 94 years old. When she passed away I found very few things about her funeral to be comforting. They say these ceremonies are for the living, not the dead. Supposedly they give us closure and an appropriate time and place to mourn. For me it was full of sadness and people telling me not to cry because she was in a better place. This only made me feel more isolated in my grief.

However, I remember a moment that offered such a spark of humor and fondness for me. Two of my granny's high school friends came to the service. They gave me a small glimpse of what she was like before she was someone's mother or grandmother. It was fascinating to hear them talk about her as a young, precocious woman with a lifetime ahead of her. Apparently, my grandmother's gift for straight shooting actually wasn't a product of her old age. According to these friends of hers, she always said exactly what she thought.

With a personality like my own, forever burdened by a need to be polite and pleasing, I could not help but admire my grandmother's simple, direct personality. She didn't fear anyone or anything. What I wouldn't give to have a dose of her tenacity.

Today, on her birthday I can't help but offer some kind of homage to her memory. I think of her often and today seemed like the proper occasion to ask the world around me to think about her for a moment as well. So what did I learn from my great granny? What lessons did she teach? What memories rise to the surface during this season of my life? Here are a few for my own indulgence...
Granny hated that I drank blue kool-aid. She didn't think it was natural. Sure, she bought it and made it for me regularly but she never served it without a lecture about how much she disliked blue liquid. Granny kept frozen burgers in the fridge and made me two small hamburgers almost every day. They were my favorite.

Granny would not have considered herself a feminist or approved of any burning brassieres. However, she was a strong, independent woman. She may not have explained the feminist ideals of Susan B. Anthony to me as a child...but did she ever live them for me. She worked hard and without complaining. She took care of herself, her child, her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren, and even her great-great grandchildren. She was a woman without fear. She held to strong convictions and was, at times, immovable in those convictions. She enjoyed laughter and company and always kept her door open.

I am not fearless or outspoken in the way that my Granny was but I learned what it looked like to step up to the world. In tough times I know that I can overcome my fear, because she did. When I am uncertain, I know that I will still take action, because she did. When I am tired I know that I will continue to work with diligence, because she did. When the truth is uncomfortable or inconvenient I know I will honor it, because she did. When people look to me for anything I will be there for them because she was there for me.

I love my Granny...Happy Birthday!

A Thought About Love

Many believe that love at first sight is a form of magic, perhaps the work of serendipity. I, however, feel that of all the many experiences of love; first sight is the most facetious. I have experienced it once or twice with a stranger whose appearance pleased me, and whose behaviors turned out to be much less satisfying to my taste.

Consider, however, that when one meets a soul mate, that true love and life partner, that he or she, at first, is completely naive to the fate at hand. I think of the moment I met my husband…how extraordinary a moment, one that would change my life forever. And yet, it passed as any other moment in time, seemingly without consequence.

I was not rendered dumb by his stature, his title, or his magnitude.   I was never more free to act, think, and speak as myself with no pretense or play to feign something more appealing to him. Perhaps the most gratifying love is not one born from the eye, but one created by the attraction of one soul to another. What brilliant, enduring love that stems from the truth of who we are and what we desire.