Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Fiercely Letting it Shine


A few nights ago a friend reached out to me, dismayed that as Serendipity I am not shining a light on the real struggles many parents face every day. I fail to talk about the daily grind many face to put food on the table, to carve out quality time with their children, if they even have a chance to see their kids at all. 
For a moment, I admit, I felt like lashing out. Although I knew she was giving me her thoughts with and out of respect, I was really hurt. Frankly, I was also confused, because I certainly struggle with things beyond dropping my full Venti Starbucks Latte* all over the bathroom before Girl’s ballet class.

*Yes, that happened. Funnily enough, I don’t think I posted about it. Because it was a day that was full of highs and lows and in the end, there is no use crying over spilled coffee. 

Make no mistake, I know my life is pretty fecking amazing. I am married to a man I truly love (even when I'd like to throat punch him), who blessed me with two fantastic and outrageous children. We are lucky that he has a good job, which provides for us to be comfortable, and for me not to have to work outside of the home. He’s also in a union, which provides us affordable access to good health insurance. And that is truly fortunate, because I have been laid up with one broken/torn piece or another for the better part of a year. It also allows us to address the issues that have come up with The Rebels. 

But honestly, what took me by surprise was that whether or not I struggle, or what I struggle with isn’t really relevant. 

Jaime Grayson (TheBabyGuyNYC) often replies to comments he receives with "I don’t know your struggle." And while he often does so as a humorous response, it's honestly the most accurate thing anyone can say. 

Every day each of us will struggle. With what and how we chose to handle it, those are things that an outsider can never really speak to. 

I don't know your struggle. This doesn’t mean I don’t care about it. I am glad to listen, should you chose to tell me. What it means is, I don’t have the experience of your life to put this moment in context. Without meaning this to be dismissive, I frankly don't see "the struggle" as the total of your life's story. And while it may be real, my struggle isn’t all of my story. 

By way of example, SisterCat (who is like my sister & is cool with my referring to her by that name), is a single mom. I cannot imagine being in her shoes. Single parenthood is literally my worst nightmare. However, it's the only situation she's known as a mother. As it happens, she lives near her own parents, and has (in my view) an incredible support system of local friends. 

In contrast, neither Hubs' nor my families are remotely local. And because of his job, we have moved away from the family of friends that we have here in NYC. So for us, there's no one who can watch the kids in a pinch. Childcare is paid for, and not cheaply. This is not a complaint, it is the story of our normal life. I'm sure there are times SisterCat cannot imagine dealing with my circumstances. 

For all the similarities between SisterCat and I, for all the times we chat and laugh & bitch about our kids, motherhood is different for each of us. If she makes choices that I would not make, I can’t honestly say I understand or don’t, because I can never walk in her shoes. 

After some thought, this was my reply to my friend who called me out: "I would say that for the most part, I am not focusing on more than finding the bright spots. [I’m] looking for the humor in all of it. I'm blessed in lots of ways. But the fact is that I struggle with not crying my eyes out over [my pain] & over all the bad shite. [Instead] I truly try to shine out the light I want to find.

So if you think I’m all rainbows and kittens, let me drop some truth on you. I am not always nice. In person I am probably too loud, and I’m certain I yell too often and too loudly at my children. I swear like the sailor’s daughter I am, and I’m terrible about watching my language around my own children. The Rebels each have their own struggles, and they test my weaknesses, often without even meaning too. I pray every day for more patience. I cry, often, in frustration. I get mad & I vent & I do my best to let my anger go. I apologize. A lot. 

I’ve said before, I’m not trying to blow sunshine up your pipes. Well, maybe by sharing #SunriseInToddlerville/#SunriseInRebelshire photos all the time I am, actually. The thing is, each morning I wake up, I roll over, and I look outside. Every dawn is different. Every day is different. 

That IS my perspective. That is MY goal: To see each day new. It is my choice to not focus my energy and attention on the negatives. I cannot change what came before today. I can own my part. I can learn from it and move forward. Every day I try and be the smile in the crowd. I try to keep an open mind and an open heart. Each day I try, and when I fail, and when I fall, I take what I need to recover. Then I try again. 

If you follow me on social media you’ll probably know that EVERY week I post about my #OnWednesdaysWeWearPink campaign. What started as a reminder for myself that I am part of the fight against breast cancer has grown to something larger. I still want to call on everyone (guys and gals alike) to check their humps for lumps. But early on I recognized that it was a weekly reminder to empower myself. 

In turn, it has become my weekly reminder to everyone: #BeFierce, #BeKind, #BePositive. #BeTheLight or #BeTheLightYouWantToSee.  The last week in thinking about all the ways we each battle through our days I decided to add  #YouAreWorthFightingFor to my list of reminders. 

So do I hope that I’m creating a space that brings joy or humor or in some small way is a bright spot in your day? Absolutely. 
Do I think I need to enumerate all the things that could be holding you down, making you want to hide under your covers and give in? Nope. 
Just know that someone believes You Are Worth Fighting For


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Monday, May 4, 2015

Lifesavers & Lipsticks: Starting Small

Somewhere I have a black and white photo of my mother’s purse, hanging off a tree limb, on the edge of a beach in Maine. It’s not a particularly great photo. But I still remember the moment I took it, thinking it looked odd and a bit lonesome. 

We’d been at my cousin’s wedding in New Hampshire. The day after the wedding was overcast and rainy. Instead of driving south to head home, Mom first drove north. Just so we could stop for a while at a beach. She needed to see the ocean; walk in the sand. Like the photograph, there's not much to the story. It was just a very “Mom” thing to do. Like hanging her purse on the tree. 

As parents I think we all know those glittering, undeniably exceptional moments when you want to stop time. People often talk about that split second when the gauze slips over your vision & you want the world to just stop so you can soak in all the perfection. No crying, kiddos giggling, everyone content & enjoying the same slice of time? 

I live for those moments. Or maybe it’s that I live in them. I’m not sure, but they rock. 

My hair combed flat with a wet comb, stretched tight into a section and then “snap!” Over an over, Mom dipping the comb in the water glass, rolling my hair in those pink foam Goody curlers. Then she’d tuck my little head into the 60s bonnet hair dryer. You know, the kind that was like a big shower cap that inflated with warm air. It was so loud, but the air always felt as wonderful and warm as my mommy’s smile. 

Do you ever wonder if your kids see that moment? Recognize that perfection? Does it imprint on their brains the way it does ours? 
Lately I wonder more & more - are my children holding on to the same moments? 

Sitting in the open back end of the car, with the garage door open, watching the rain splatter in the suburban streets. Hoping for lightning so we could count until the thunder clap hit us. Sometimes we’d have to snuggle in jackets, or blankets, or huddle together. Usually there was no real conversation. We were just listening. Together. 

As the calendar turns to May I have no choice but to think almost constantly of my mom. As a child the month of May was Mommy’s month. Not only is there mother’s day, but my mom’s birthday is the 19th. Often we would end up celebrating her on back to back weekends. But after she died, well, I’m sorry, May, you officially became My Least Favorite Month.

I have decided that a decade of holding a grudge against 1/12 of the calendar is probably long enough. So this year I’m working hard at shifting my focus off of what is missing, to what I was lucky enough to have. 

Which, by the way, is monumentally hard. 

With all hard things the advice is to start small, right? So I’m making a point to recall all the small moments. 

Lifesavers. Along with the usual tissues, lipsticks, combs, and whatnots, as a child it seemed Mom's purse was almost certain to have Lifesavers. She liked all kinds of hard candy, but those little fruity rings were second only to dried out gummy bears. The oddity of gummy bears that had been purposefully left out to harden didn’t start until I was much older, though. 

As a kid, I could dig through the tissues and probably find a few linty orange Lifesavers to swipe. Actually, Mom was pretty liberal with handing out the orange ones. (Naturally, I thought it was a treat, until I realized that she just didn’t like orange candy.) The absolute best was when she had a whole role of cherry or butter rum. 

I spotted a roll the other day in a checkout line, and in a flash I was 6 years old, digging in my mommy’s purse. I could practically smell the Revlon lipstick blotted Kleenex. Then that moment of delight when she would say, “Sure baby. Here you go.” 


So much sweeter than the candy. 


Do you have a favorite moment with your mother, grandmother, aunt, etc? What moments with you are you hoping the children in your life will remember when they are grown? 

I would love you to share them with me! 

One lucky reader already won a copy of I Still Just Want To Pee Alone! 
Just in time for Mother’s Day! 
**Contest Closed**



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