Transitions: A Perfect Night

Transitions are not always easy.Take childbirth, for example. For me, the transition was the worst part. Not back labor. Not pushing. Not even record-breaking head sizes or shoulders. With the birth of each of my three children, the transitions were the most unpleasant part. I mean literally and figuratively.

Most people that know me, and know that I'm a teacher, would be surprised to learn that I said I never wanted children while growing up. That is not cool to admit when you're a mom, but there you have it. I think it is because I was the fourth of four kids. I could see it was work.

I didn't want to get a Mrs. degree either. At least until I was old, like, you know, in my forties. 

I grew up in a very typical town at that time. Most of my peers married young. In my journey I found God and my faith and then wound up in love and married by the age of 22. I had become a teacher. I loved children. My husband I both came from big families and wanted one too, so by the age of 30 we had three kids. 

Now I'm in transition. 

My youngest daughter turned 21 yesterday. The weather was mild and lovely. There was a birthday tiara made of succulents, flowers and feathers and a "Birthday Girl" sash worn while we celebrated. We had brunch with her sister in San Francisco. We shared a beer with their childhood friend. There was a birthday cupcake for photos mixed with a little moodiness when one of us got tired or hungry. We were joined by her brother and the four of us went to a concert in Berkeley. It was a perfect day.

While the band was performing, I laid down on the grass and closed my eyes. My kids thought I was falling asleep and took turns putting their hands over my face. I was remembering a time in our past. It was almost as if we were lying back under the Magnolia tree, a pile of four bodies and quilts, pillows, stuffed animals, flashlights and picture books. And a small dog, he was there too. I could remember for a moment, what the chill in the air felt like if a foot poked out of the edge of the blanket, the kids nudging and bickering. The stars dotting the sky. It was a perfect day.

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As far as my parenting goes when my kids were very small, I don't have many regrets.  

I can say my kids went to bed at a too-early-for-them-but-kept-mom-sane hour. They had three meals a day with a protein, a vegetable and a starch. We did not always eat dessert but they would get woken up on occasion for their birthday and get to eat the corner piece of the birthday cake, a cookie or a slice of apple or pumpkin pie. They were always well-dressed and did some kind of exercise every day. As babies they were carried or biked or pushed in a stroller to concerts, museums, parks, sporting venues and shopping. This was replaced by family biking, swimming, walks and even dancing in the park for summer concerts. They talked about their highs and their lows of the day at the dinner table. They were read bedtime stories every night and said their prayers cuddled in bed. They played dress-up, make-believe, baked elaborate sugar cookies for every holiday and had tea parties, with real food. There were dolls and superheroes and fairytales. There was a co-op preschool with a mom and a dad who volunteered, as well as field trips with both. There were cousins, lots of them. And with the cousins came holidays, birthdays, many days in the park, playing at one another's houses and vacations mostly in Tahoe or Yosemite. They camped in tents and trailers and even in the backyard on a blue tarp with the stars overhead canopied by an old magnolia tree. There were special late nights to go to the midnight book sale parties for the latest Harry Potter edition. And there were more late nights involving movie releases as the clock struck 12 on several Thursdays. They had Survivor dinners of pineapple, rice and other island foods and there were forts in the family room left up overnight. As they grew older and expressed an interest they played soccer, basketball, lacrosse, baseball, competed in Irish dancing, bowling, scouting and 4-H. They debated. They sewed. There were crafts and kites and fishing. There were boo-boos and kisses and hugs and love.

I'd like to think it was a mostly-good childhood for all three kids, despite my shortcomings.

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As we were leaving the concert and headed to our car late last night we were reflecting on the evening.  "I know you thought I was falling asleep on the grass but I wasn't. I was pretending I was camping in the backyard with the three of you under the Mag-no-li-a," my voice stammered. "Under the Magnolia tree," I finished saying, while choking up.

My kids looked at me, concern on their faces. 

I smiled at them, wiping my tears. 

They started groaning and laughing. They weren't being mean. They were rolling their eyes and exchanging the oh-my-God-would-you-look-at-our-dorky-sappy-mom-but-we-love-her looks with one another.

I started laughing through my tears and we all kept walking.

I think the Head And The Heart song called "Let's Be Still" has one stanza that perfectly states how I felt while lying down at that concert:

The world's just spinning

A little too fast

If things don't slow down soon we might not last

So just for the moment, let's be still

I think, for me, transitions will continue to be one of my least favorite things. But I view last night's as a gift. It was a perfect night.

Sell It To Me

The term "Sell It To Me" came from a former boyfriend. His children were younger than mine and he had limits on their computer, video or gaming usage. This included other reasonable rules that were implemented.

In the name of compromise, every so often he would relent on various child-rearing restrictions by allowing his children the opportunity to do the following: They would have to "sell it to him" as to why they should be allowed to do the activity. Perhaps it was staying up a wee bit later, playing 15 minutes more on the trampoline, or a little bit more time on the computer. This was not a daily occurrence and to me seemed like a good lesson for children on the art of negotiation or compromise.

At the time two of my children were fairly independent, one in college and one in high school. My youngest was in middle school. I shared his parenting technique, "Sell It To Me" to my daughter Shelby and she said it sounded like a good idea.

That should have been a warning to me. If I had remembered when she had learned how to write persuasive letters and essays in elementary school I would have remembered how she convinced me to get her a feral kitten who single-hand-idly wreaked havoc upon our little home. I would have remembered how she persuaded her dad to get her a bunny, or Pottery Barn for Kids to makeover her bedroom or Christmas or birthday suggestions she had handwritten for both her dad and I, post-divorce.

But no, I did not remember any of it. I wish had remembered how, as a teacher, I am impressed with a well-crafted letter or essay and how I could succumb to the written word. I only thought it was an opportunity to hone in on her skills. Or her brother and sister could hone theirs too. 

If I had remembered Shelby's skills, perhaps I would have also remembered her brother or sister's. I would have remembered that Troy had attended Speech and Debate camp at Monte Vista before his freshman year. I might have remembered he had taken the course for several years. I'd know that although he didn't always choose to compete much, he was a natural. And he was naturally good at ad-libbing and making me laugh and using his humor.

My kids know I am a sucker for laughter and so I wish I had remembered how Troy used that to his full advantage. It would aggravate both his sisters when they saw me laughing instead of disciplining. I should have remembered the time he presented his defensive lacrosse coach with the team’s end of year gift. As he did so, he recited a well-crafted speech that moved grown mothers, fathers, players and the coach he so wonderfully paid tribute to, to tears.

Or I may have recalled the Monte Vista High Mr. Mustang contest, where he was the emcee. During the evening he was organized, smart, and witty with a great sense of timing and improvisation that impressed some of the fathers in the audience. In fact, he impressed them to the point that they came up and told me to have Troy see them after he had graduated from college. I should have remembered the vice principal coming up to me, telling me he was amazing. But no, I didn't think about any of it when I was first presented with the "Sell It To Me" method of child rearing. Sigh.

If I had, I would have remembered how my oldest daughter Morgan began her own version of "Sell It To Me" naturally and all of her own accord. She would ask me to go over to a neighbor's house when she was in elementary school. Around that time we had set up a computer station in our family room. As I was online designing a lesson for school or creating class lists she'd know it was not the best time to ask to do something.

She would come up and beginning rubbing my head, massaging my scalp. She used this successful methodology on her father too. She could de-stress us both to the point of near drooling. Our body language softened and we would be sliding down the chair in a pool of relaxation. At that point, she would pose the aforementioned request to go to a friend's house, or have one of hers over to ours.

Sadly, she knows her powers now and rarely, if ever uses them. Which brings me back to her sister Shelby ... just this past weekend she wielded her powers of persuasion from the "Sell It To Me" technique. It was hot. I was tired from running 12 miles earlier that morning. I envisioned relaxing at home. She needed something from Target.

After I had said no, she decided to try once more with this, "Mom, really, you know one year from now I will be away from home at college. You will need to run an errand at Target. You will miss me. You'll think back on this day and only wish that you could have the experience of being with me as we always have a good time together.

Mom, think, 'Gilmore Girls' and how Rory went off to college and left Lorelai all alone. I will even drive you there so you can relax some more. Now, don't you want to go to Target with me?"  Believe it or not, I still said no.  And then after my shower I got dressed, headed downstairs and into the garage. 
Shelby was waiting for me in the driver's seat, knowing full well that her "Sell It To Me “skills had been successful enough for a short trip to Target. And as I opened the passenger door I knew she was right. I am going to miss my little salesgirl. 

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