Hope for the Best, Prepare for the Worst...

Thanks to this self-portrait he drew a few weeks back, my husband and I learned our son wants to be a police officer when he grows up. 

When asked why, he launched excitedly into an elaborate answer involving how he wants to catch bad guys using his excellent karate moves, how he will protect those he loves, and will also blow things up (for the greater good). 




Short version: He likes the idea of making the world safer. 

Of course, he's only six, so our brave hero is also prone to dramatic tears when asked to try on new pants, move his LEGOs off the dining table, or just (for once) flush the toilet.

He's my oldest, but I presume most of this is fairly typical. 




After all, when attempting to carry on even the simplest of conversations with any young kid they will ask the most outrageous questions, develop insanely illogical reasoning, wild theories of the universe, and generally keep you on your toes or send you into the depths of madness.




But hey, I'm no newbie at this parenthood gig. So often as a moment of humor or sudden thoughtfulness might surprise me, I thought nothing could really catch me off guard anymore. 




Then, as our children so often do, my sweet boy proved me wrong. With one simple question, in fact, he knocked the wind right out me.

"Mama? Do you know what a lockdown is?" 

If life were a movie, this would be the moment when I realize there is no background noise. In a vacuum of sound, every breath painfully loud, I would see these words, drop casually, almost playfully from my son's lips into the bath's bubbles.    

"I sure do, bud. Do you?"   

"Yeah. It's when the teachers have us all pile up in the back of our class. Not where the kitchen is, though. Back behind their desk."   

"Oh, yeah? And when do you do this?"  

"When they shut the lights and call out Lockdown,” his is eyes wide to mimic the importance of the command.  

Whispering now, he squeezes his shoulder up to his ears, and continues, "then we are supposed to be really really super quiet. So no one would guess we are still hiding in the room."   

"So, did you practice a lockdown today? Is that why you're asking about it?" 

Yep. They said we did a good job. But we need to work on being even quieter, and not moving at all." 

"Ok, um... Well, I bet you'll practice again..." 

Those last words are still stuck in my throat. I have no idea what I'm supposed to say to my 6 year old about having lockdown drills at school. I'm in no way prepared for this disturbingly innocent conversation.

Perhaps because there was such lightness to it, I'm still struggling to wrap my brain around this. 

My children are still so young, and we try to shield them from much of the ugliness and hatred in the world. I wouldn't think to begin a conversation about school shootings. 

So when my kid busted out the word lockdown it exposed my naiveté. When it comes to their safety, age is not a shield. Just as it would not protect them from a fire, their lack of years won't protect our children should someone decide to attack their school. 

Unlike the days when our parents learned to "duck and cover" (that wholly illogical method to protect yourself nuclear fallout), the sad truth is lockdown drills are teaching our children strategies that actually could save their lives if the unthinkable happens.

I hope they never have a reason to use this knowledge, and yet... How insane is it that I find myself relieved? Grateful, even. 

Maybe I should be feeling something different: Anger, sadness, I don't know. Instead, I find myself oddly reassured knowing the administrators and teachers at my kids' school are doing just what my mother always told me growing up: 

When you don't know what to expect, hope for the best, then prepare for the worst. 

Sweet Orange Memories

The day was overcast and rainy. Mom drove north to Maine, rather than driving south from New Hampshire toward home, because she just needed to see the ocean. Walking into the sand, she hung her bag on the tree that stood on the rocky edge of the beach. 

Like this photograph, there's not much to the story. Like hanging her purse on the tree, it was just a very “Mom” thing to do.  But I have never lost the feeling of this moment, even when I thought the photo itself had been lost to time.  

It took me a decade after mom died, and having 2 kids of my own, to get over my grudge against the month of May. The double whammy of her birthday coupled with Mother's Day, and May was as flat and grey as this photo. 

Learning to be a mother, without my own alive to talk to, I often focused on what was missing. Last year I realized I had to find my way back to what I was lucky enough to have. I also had to find a way to make that monumental task a bit less daunting. Since they say the way to tackle something difficult is to start small, I made a point of recalling the little things. 

Buttered Rum Lifesavers! I spotted a roll one day in a checkout line, and in a flash I was 6 years old, digging in my mommy’spurse. I could practically smell the Revlon lipstick blotted Kleenex. Then thatmoment of delight when she would say with a smile, “Sure baby. Here you go.”  Did mom know that 30 years later her words would be so much sweeter than the candy? 

As parents I think we all know those glittering, exceptional moments when the gauze slips over your vision and you want the world to just stop and let you soak in all the undeniable perfection. No one crying, everyone giggling, contentedly enjoying the same slice of time. I live for those moments. Or maybe it’s that I live in them? Either way. 

Do you ever stop to ponder if your kids recognize that same moment? Does it imprint on their brains the way it does ours? Lately I wonder more and more – what mental snapshots are they taking? 

I have vivid memories of watching rain splatter on the suburban streets of my youth. Sitting with my mom in the hatchback of our car, garage door open, waiting for the lightning flash so we could count until the thunderclap hit us. Sometimes we’d be snuggled in blankets, huddled close. Usually there was no real conversation. We were just listening. Together. 

My 5yo son also has a vivid memory. He loves to recount the adventures we’ve taken; he’s partial to the times we’ve checked out the vacancies in our apartment building. He and his little sister love tearing around the empty rooms, playing hide & seek in closets, their squeals bouncing off the bare walls. Twenty years from now will he still be delighted in this perk of being the Super’s kid?

My Boy. Most days he wakes up before the Sun, the sound of his heavy footfalls on the bunk bed steps are amplified by the monitor that still sits by my bedside. Truly, he sounds like a small elephant crashing through any dream world I might be in.

Although I curse his complete inability to sleep until after dawn, I already miss the way he used to barrel into our bedroom, bounding onto my side of the bed. “Look Mom! It’s the sunrise! The Sun is rising!” Grabbing my phone to check the time, I got into a habit of taking a photo to post on Instagram later, even as I’d whisper, “Yes! Isn’t it a beautiful start to the day?” Then I’d try to coax him to lie down for a few more minutes.

Now, avoiding Mommy trying to get him to rest more, he heads to the living room; I find myself reluctantly rising to joining him on the couch, hoping to play the scene out there instead.

Let’s be honest, as this kid gets older I am learning I need to take my cuddles when & where I can get them.

So as we sit quietly in the dark, our sleepy eyes dazzled by the Sun’s bright orange light rising over the skyline, I can’t help but wonder if all these mornings of cuddling up will blend together. Leaving only the gauzy memory of a picture perfect sunrise.

Things I Learned From My Mom

This post first appeared on my MySpace page back in June of 2007 under the title "Things Mom Taught Me".  It was one of two posts I wrote to honor my mom on the third anniversary of her death. 

Some of these pearls were passed along as advice. Most are just the kernels I gleaned from the 30 years I had with her.  That sounds like such a long time, but it was far too short.  

As Mother's Day is Sunday, and my mother's birthday is the following week, I thought it would be fitting to repost. I considered trying to organize it more concisely, or add new commentary. But I think, for now, I will leave it as written.  

From growing up in a military life where cocktail parties and wives' clubs never went out of fashion, along with a mix of common sense and southern hospitality, my mom passed along this wisdom, which I present in no way in full, and entirely at random...

• Family and friendship come before all else. She'd say "you may not always like them, but you don't stop loving people just because they are sometimes jerks."
• Always expect the very best, and be prepared for the very worst. This was true for everything, including people. This has always served me well.
• It was fine not to like something, but only if I'd actually tried it first.
• The importance of family history.
• The importance & fine art of good conversation.
• Not to be with someone just because everyone else liked them.
• Everyone deserves a second and even third chance. That doesn't mean they get a free pass, however. She might forgive, but she never really forgot. However, there was always another chance to earn back her trust and respect if you wanted to.
• The beauty of thunderstorms.
• That a power nap (also known as a sinking spell) really can be just the thing to get you going again.
• There is nothing wrong with being cute, just back it up with the ability to be serious.
• To shop for bargains, but also to know what things are worth paying full price for.
• Always have "mad money" tucked away.
• Anytime is a good time to go to a beach.
• If you want to sing, then go right ahead and sing (maybe she got this from Sesame Street).
• The best quality a friend or lover can have is the ability to make you laugh.
• It is important to know your own body & it's always ok to question your doctor - the doctor's not in your skin, after all.
• There is nothing finer than popping off your shoes and sticking your feet on the dash.
• Any time you can take off your shoes, you should.
• To always go upstairs on my toes, because it would make my calves strong (it did).
• My mother never did yoga, or pilates, or anything like that. But there were exercises she'd learned as a girl, and she passed these along to me. Mostly, it boiled down to the value of stretching out the limbs, and the back. Because being limber is as important as being strong. (Maybe more so, really)
• How to shop for clothes without trying them on - and have them fit when I get them home.
• Buying clothing basics that flatter your figure & never goes out of style will always give you the best value. Then you can add pieces or accessories that make a look more "trendy" and "in fashion". This way you have a more "timeless" style.
• Birthdays are important. Everyone's birthday is their day; on that day they get to do what they want, watch what they want, eat what they want & be celebrated.
• There is absolutely nothing wrong with being silly, no matter how old you are. How else does one stay young at heart?
• There are certain things everyone should know, even if they don't honestly care. The important thing being that other people would care and would be talking about it. A well-rounded individual should at least know the outcome - and thus not be lost in the conversation. These things included:
  • Who won each of the Triple Crown horse races
  • Who won the Super Bowl, the World Series, the NBA playoffs, etc.
  • Who won pop-culture events (like American Idol)

• Learning to wash your own clothes, basic sewing, change a tire, cook a good steak, make yourself eggs the way you like them (particularly when you are sick) - such things are essential to growing up.
• You can be the most beautiful or the smartest or the most accomplished - but if you are ugly to people, it won't matter. Pretty is as pretty does.
• If you never start wearing foundation makeup, you may never need it. Seriously, I wasn't allowed to wear more than powder, eyeliner & blush as a young teenager, and 20 years later, I rarely wear more than that now.
• On Christmas morning everyone should take turns opening gifts, because it really should be more fun to give than it is to receive.
• Basic Yiddish phrases. Although I haven't figured out why she ever knew them to begin with.
• The value of a B-horror movie, whether it's new or old, in English or over-dubbed.
• That "pet people" belong with other "pet people".
• Any occasion can be a "special" occasion and you should use the good china, the good linen, and the good silver for it. Otherwise, why have that stuff taking up space?

• Blood may be thicker than water, but it is love that defines a family.