Tag: Christmas

They Think They Can Do Better — Well So Can You

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“Prang’s Valentine cards”. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My single friends look at me with longing; they think as a mother of two, husband in residence, that my greatest life questions are resolved.

“Gal-pal” is such a casual label for these women whose worth is above gold. We have conversations I can only dream of with my friends who are also mothers. Unfettered by constraints of feeding, nap, or bedtime schedules, we can meet whenever work or sleep allows.

They sigh and bemoan their lonely futures; I urge them to pursue their passions rather than a man. They contest my advice as  invalid, offered from the safety of the ivory tower of matrimony.

“Pour that urge to nurture into a new hobby!” I cheer.

“Easy for you to say,” she grumbles. “You’re settled.”

“I’m going through the same struggles as you,” I protest. “In different ways.”

My dear friend would like to meet her life partner and have a baby. Yet, hours of conversations show that her thirst for intimacy is no different from mine — for female in friendships; I’d love to have more friends who were reliable and didn’t cancel at the last minute or move away after three years.

Often the heartbreak of ending a romantic relationship can feel like it will drag you under.

But again, from my parallel universe, in the week leading up to that most commercial of holidays, second perhaps only to Christmas, Valentine’s, I am reminded that many people can hurt us, not only our intimate partners.

People disappoint us. Often treat us other than we deserve.

But as with boyfriends or husbands, once I recovered from the shock, I steeled my resolve: if they think they can do better – then they should try.

After all, as I’m reminding myself, so can I.

Moral of the story? Don’t put up with sh#t from anyone. Not a lover or a friend or an employer.

After all, you’re worth more than they think — though they’ll never know unless you show them. How you let other people treat you says more than the words you use. This Valentine’s Day, remember: true love, begins at home.

 

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Why Being a Bad Mother Maybe What Your Kid Needs

McDonalds
 (Photo credit: K J Payne)

The holidays have come. Thankfully they have also gone. Maybe I’m getting older and the charm of exchanging gifts has worn off; maybe it was never really there to begin with. Growing up in an Hindu household, we did not celebrate Christmas, not even in the secular exchange of gifts as many families of different faiths do. As a child I didn’t notice the lack of tree or tinsel; for sure I knew Santa Claus was a hoax as he never found us. As a teenager, when friends called to see what I’d gotten for the holiday the long pause after answering “coffee cup” exposed the non-idyllic nature of my childhood.

Christmas was like any other day in our house; so was Thanksgiving. Most summers were spent reading in the bleachers reading Ken Follett during my younger brother’s T-ball games.

I’m not asking you to feel sorry for me. The festive deprivation may have been the greatest gift my parents ever gave me.

Treating me like a non-fragile, ordinary creature who was a burden (don’t let her get pregnant! or wind up working at McDonald’s!) rather than precious blessing may have been tough medicine at the time, but now as a parent, this distance is what allows me to be the best mother I can. Ironically having an imperfect childhood makes it easier to parent

I don’t feel pressure to create a bubble of idyll around my sons (or re-create as my friends do).

In my younger days I suffered many disappointments. Ordinary letdowns that are death to a teenager like missed slumber parties (mustn’t let the girl spend the night out. Remember she has a uterus!) or high school field trips to New York City (go to the library, read a book about that place, much cheaper!) meant I dealt with disappointments early on and often. The older I grew, the more sadness and conflict I encountered. My familiarity with the unsavory parts of life meant that as we grew older, my friends came to me for coping strategies. A close friend’s miscarriage crippled her emotionally; it was the hardest event in her life. I was one person she could talk to because I was no stranger to raw emotion or a sense of unfairness.

Now that I’m a mother, each and every one of those hard moments is a reminder that I’m doing darn well for my guys. Yes, I have a demanding schedule as a writer and professor; I’m often away from them and I may not do the things other mothers do. But by comparison, every day for my children is better than most of the ones I had.

I know they don’t need expensive toys (though they do have a Pinterest worthy playroom). I don’t shield them from the word no. If they fall over, in most cases, they pick themselves back up.

Some call this tough love. I call it preparation for life.

I am a typical Virgo and have perfectionist tendencies. But this is one area I’m happy to be mediocre. Rather than be plagued by guilt at what I’m not doing for them, I will celebrate what we do have together. And hopefully teach them some valuable lessons in the process.

What about you? Are you happy with your childhood memories or do you wish you’d had more of something? Any parenting wisdom to share?

 

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Givin' it to Yourself

photo(3)One of the (many) challenges about the holidays is they often mean you’re on your spouse’s turf. Whether staying in the house he grew up, visiting college friends, or smiling through the extended family dinner, you might feel the strain of not doing things your way. Even after 8 years of Christmas visits to the northern part of the US, I still long for the warmer temperatures of Florida, my own friends, and favorite haunts. These longings don’t need long to be fulfilled however, as my husband and I are part of the lucky few: every year we have enough vacation time to subject each other to this cycle. First we see his family, and then mine.

This year the cold, the second child, the jet lag were conspiring to make me particularly grumpy.

Needless to say I counted myself lucky when a friend let me crash her mommies night out. In place of the innocuous, “Oh, you live in the Middle East, that’s far,” comments and then blank stares I often get from people, this was a group of gorgeous, smart women. They all had two (several of them three children) were well within their target weight for their size, dressed fashionably, were wearing makeup, and didn’t interrupt if someone was speaking.

And they were all wondering if they were good mothers.

“I try to be a good mother,” one woman is completing a residency in psychiatry said. She described a seven day week where she cooks homemade meals for her children everyday, alternating her parenting challenges with stories of how people in her profession are routinely killed by their more disturbed patients.

Each of them had a version of this, wondering if they were doing their children justice, critiquing themselves on how they were doing in various areas: challenging the kids in extracurriculars, helping them with homework, doing the right thing in sleep training.

I had an Oprah moment.

“Tomorrow, I want us to wake up and the first thing we say when seeing ourselves in the mirror should be: I am a good mother.”

They looked at me blankly.

“Whatever they’re getting from you, they’re better off than if they didn’t have you in their lives,” I said.

I wanted them to give to themselves what they give to their children and husbands: acceptance. Love. Support.

There are so many cliches around the holidays which still fail to mitigate rampant commercialism.

The best things in life are free is perhaps the most flagrant one.

This Christmas I want to give to all mothers (and fathers, though I rarely hear men talk about their fears about parenting) a gift: the gift of confidence.

We are all doing the best we can. And relaxing into that truth make this your best Christmas ever.

I know it will for me.

What’s one gift you’d give someone this year that they really need?

 

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