by advicefrommarta | Jan 28, 2016 | Random Stories
To be honest, I didn’t realize it was the anniversary of the Challenger Disaster until a friend mentioned it on Facebook. It happened when she was 12 and she said that for her it symbolized an end of childhood.
I was 17, a senior in high school, and if you had asked me at the time, long past childhood. I knew all there was to know about sex, drugs, love, and death. I knew all there was to know about the hypocrisy of adults. I had lived in the Third World. I knew!
I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now
We were supposed to be in English class, but we were in the library watching the launch on TV. Our beloved senior English teacher, Ms. Hay, had recently won an award as a top teacher in the state, and then was promoted out of the classroom and in to the district office. We spent about a week in the library, waiting for a replacement.
Because, as I knew, adults mess everything up.
When our replacement came it was a woman named Jane Norman. It seems absurd now, but within weeks we all learned one fact about Jane Norman: She shared a husband with Playwright Marsha Norman.
Today I can’t remember if she was the first wife of a man who went on to marry Marsha Norman or if she was his second wife, after Marsha Norman.
I knew there were a few true teachers, people like Ms. Hay, who wanted to be English teachers. But I also knew that most English teachers were failed writers who either hadn’t taken a chance or had taken a chance and failed. (Or, in the case of our high school, sometimes they were former college basketball stars who were mainly needed to coach the high school team, but that’s a different story).
I knew, that Jane Norman must be miserable. To share a husband with a famous playwright when you yourself were nothing but a high school English teacher teaching Advanced Placement, clearly a class of geniuses destined to do great things? I knew there could be nothing worse.
I remember watching the explosion on TV and I don’t remember anything else that happened that day. Did the school leave the TV on? What period was it? Did we go to other classes? Did we take it as an excuse to leave and go get stoned at Big Rock?
I remember knowing everything there was to know about what life was like and what my future life would be like. I remember knowing that the worst things that could happen to me had already happened to me. I remember knowing that the people I was watching TV with at that moment would always be my best friends, but I also knew that soon all of us would blow off Louisville, KY and never look back. I remember knowing that my own life would be fabulous and one day, I too would touch the sky.
I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.
by advicefrommarta | Oct 8, 2015 | Family Life, Humor
Going to the zoo on a beautiful day.
How a trip to the library could be a full day’s activity.
Only working part-time.
The feeling of giddy joy and unlimited possibility that came just from them both being at a birthday party at the same time.
The look of joy on their faces when I came home, or out of the bathroom.
How easy they were to distract from uncomfortable conversations.
Your backyard friends, the Backyardigans. Also, the Kratt Brothers. And the cute Wiggle.
The heavy ache of someone a little too big falling asleep in my arms.
7:30 bedtime.
Toys and the toystore.
Stopping for a muffin or a cookie on the way home from a class.
The park.
The excuse to never have to go out.
Wondering what it would be like when they were older.
by advicefrommarta | May 27, 2014 | Advice I'd Like to Give, Family Life
The Fall that my daughter was five, after recovering from the flu, she lost her lovey. It was horrible. As the Fall wore on and got worse and worse in so many ways, the loss of her beloved Cow became more and more important and more and more a symbol for my struggles as a parent and her struggles to grow up.
Now ten years old, she has had her replacement Cow for about as long, if not longer, as original Cow. Sometimes though, she and I still think about Cow. This weekend my girl and I had some unexpected mother/daughter time, and even better, some unexpected mother/daughter time where she wanted to go do something. Lately my tween is more likely to want to listen to music or watch TV. Last weekend, when faced with a whole night to ourselves she wanted to invite over friends. Suddenly, movie night is better with friends than with Mommy.
But, on this beautiful Sunday, she really wanted to go to the bookstore. So we set off to walk to the bookstore, lunch, ice cream, and possible mani/pedis. In between the bookstore and the ice cream store across the street we saw the guy above resting on a concrete planter. Clearly some child had dropped him out of a stroller and a thoughtful passerby had placed him where he could be found. But it seemed as though perhaps he had been there for a while.
“Maybe we should take him home and see if we can find his owner?” I suggested.
“How would you do that?” She asked.”Well, I’d put it on Facebook and Twitter and Mom Mail and maybe someone would know the person who lost it.”
She agreed, and we decided that if he was still waiting when we were done with our ice cream, we’d take him home. After ice cream we decided to cross the street for nails, but the wait was too long. It was my daughter who reminded me to cross back over and see if the bunny was still there. He was and we scooped him in to our bag, setting off for home holding hands. On the way home my daughter wondered what we would do if no one claimed him and came up with the idea of taking him to the library, since they have a display case of lost and found items.
While my son will tell me everything he is thinking and feeling in exquisite and excuciating detail, my daughter is quiet. I am never 100% sure what she is thinking or feeling and I am sometimes a little nervous about raising upsetting topics with her. If she is not thinking about something sad, do I want to be the one to put it on the table, to start the tears? So it was with some trepidation that after a few minutes of quiet walking and hand holding I asked, “Is this making you think of Cow, do you wish someone had done this for you?”
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “Me, too” I said.
When we got home, she turned on “Austin and Ally” and I went upstairs to start finding the rightful owner of Bunny. I posted the bunny on Facebook and Twitter and within minutes discovered that in fact, someone had put a missing notice on MomMail for him. In her message she said that this bunny, lost in the exact location where we found him, had been with them “since birth.” I eagerly replied and sent a photo, my mind filled with images of my daughter returning this beloved stuffie to a five year old girl. The cycle becoming complete, her hard-learned lessons about love and loss tempered after all these years with lessons about love and return and the generosity of strangers.
My first inkling that the story did not quite have the happy ending I was anticipating was when the mother wrote me back an hour later saying she wasn’t sure if this was hers, because hers was pink and had a pacifier attached. It is irrational, but her potential denial of this bunny made me angry. Did she not know what a stroke of luck she had been given? I have no doubt that if Cow turned up now, five years later, ripped to shreds and stained a different color from dirt, I would still recognize him and instantly claim him.
I assured her that on close inspection you could see the bunny had once been pink. I asked if she could pick him up today, before five so that my daughter could have a chance to return the bunny to its owner before leaving for a sleepover. It took several hours for her to write me back. In the meantime, my daughter lovingly washed the bunny so that its owner would not be shocked by the filth.
When the reply came the woman explained that Bunny belonged to her six-month-old baby who was happily cuddling the backup Bunny, that mainly, she was the one who wanted it for sentimental reasons, and could she come some time this week.
It is Tuesday, and Bunny is still keeping me company at my desk. In her emails this woman was sweet and kind and full of gratitude, but still part of me, the part of me that was angered by her initial doubt about Bunny, is disappointed with this loving mother. I know that some of my disappointment is my own ridiculousness. My own bizarre and unhealthy desire to still, five years later, find a way of fixing my daughter’s loss. Although in some ways small, my daughter’s loss of Cow was real and like all true loss, is is unfixable.
But part of it is me wanting to reach out to this mother, to warn her that five or ten years from now, when she has had a chance to see how quickly daughters change, how quickly we lose their childhood, she will be angry at herself for waiting even two hours to reclaim even a tiny, stained piece of it.
UPDATE: The mother and her perfect, pink bundle of a baby girl came by tonight (Wednesday) to claim the bunny. My daughter was excited and happy to be able to give the bunny back. The mother was genuinely grateful, she brought my daughter a box of pink Peeps (pink bunnies for a pink bunny) and wrote us a lovely thank-you note. So, we did get our happy ending after all.
by advicefrommarta | Feb 25, 2014 | Family Life
This post is part of the Donna Day blogging event to raise money for St. Baldrick’s.
Last November the country was swept up in Batkid Fever! Everybody loved Batkid, a San Francisco five year old in remission from Leukemia. The Make a Wish Foundation had made his “wish” come true and involved the entire city of San Francisco in an elaborate scheme that allowed this kid to be a super hero for the day. The entire country got on board, even President Obama sent a message of support.
My Facebook feed was full of videos of Batkid and instructions that no one was allowed to be cynical about Batkid, that Batkid had saved the day and restored people’s faith in humanity.
Did you know that Batkid went out of remission and died a month later?
OK, I made that up, and it was a little cruel. But, do you have any doubt that as much as we all reveled in Batkid, we would all overlook the sad reality of a child dying of cancer? I have nothing against Batkid or the Make a Wish Foundation or anyone who found hope and joy in the idea that the country would come together to make a good thing happen for a sick little boy.
What I do have a problem with is the way the cancer industry markets cancer in this country. Breast cancer is all about women taking long walks together and wearing pink shirts while holding pink teddy bears. Childhood cancers (the primary disease-related cause of death among children) is all about cute, smiling, bald kids having their wishes come true. If the kids aren’t cute and smiling then they are heroic and teaching us all important lessons about the true meaning of courage and life. Their funerals are all attended by police officers and fire fighters, and we miraculously never see parents grieving over a too-small casket.
I don’t deny that Batkid and other children with cancer are courageous and cute. But they are also scared and scarred and desperately ill. The picture above is so rare because on the few occasions when we talk about childhood cancer, we never talk about a child in pain and suffering.
You know what those kids’ real wish is? It isn’t to go to Disney World, it’s to not die. Not to be sick. Not to watch their families crumble. Not to be scarred for life if they survive.
This is the third year that I’ve participated in “Donna Day.” Donna Day is a day where bloggers around the Internet come together to try and bring awareness to the real horrors of childhood cancer. Not to depress you, but to get you to act and frankly to get you to donate money. If you want to donate money to the Make a Wish Foundation and help create more feel-good events like Batkid, that’s great, I fully support you and think you’re doing a good thing. The world needs all sorts of help, and that is certainly one way to help.
But, if you’d like to support children and families with cancer and make their dearest wishes really come true, may I suggest you donate to St. Baldrick’s instead (or hey, how about in addition to, in addition is always good).
Donna Day is organized by Jeremy and Sheila, Donna’s loving parents who continue to parent Donna by raising awareness of and funds for childhood cancer. You can contribute directly to their annual St. Baldrick’s Fundraising event here.
You can learn more about St. Baldrick’s and the pitiful state of funding for childhood cancer here.
And to prove that I have nothing against super heroes, pint sized or otherwise, may I also suggest you purchase this adorable superhero/cancer themed tshirt.
Here’s the link to do so: http://shop.stbaldricks.org/products/super-heroes-t-shirt
If you know someone that you think this message will resonate with, please share this post. If this message doesn’t resonate with you, that’s fine. Check out the Mary Tyler Mom blog or FB page (MTM is also Donna’s mother) or the Donna’s Good Things Facebook Page. She’ll have a list of other blogs participating, maybe one of their posts will hit the spot for you.
by advicefrommarta | Dec 13, 2013 | Family Life
One of the things I remember about the Newtown shootings last year is that I was going that afternoon to my daughter’s Girl Scout Troop. I could not wait to get to school and see my then six-year-old son, a boy the same age as most of the victims. I could not wait to surround myself with joyous Girl Scouts, only slightly older, and tell them all about the wonders of cookie sales.
I promised myself that I would not waste a single minute of the time I have with my children on being aggravated or annoyed. I would cherish their childishness, not “consequence” it out of them.
About ten minutes in to the Girl Scout Meeting I was ready to tie most of the girls to a chair. They had not heard about the tragedy and were being their normal selves. A group of 14 eight-year-old girls is, although very cute and fun, also pretty obnoxious.
I’m sure it wasn’t more than a day after that horrible day that my children were in trouble.
Whenever we, as parents, hear about a child who has died or is gravely ill, or a parent who has died, or a horrible tragedy like Newtown we make these vows to ourselves. We promise ourselves that we will not be so rushed or hurried, that we will treasure every moment.
But, then real life comes in to play. Our children are loud, they talk back. They are disrespectful and messy. They dawdle when we have a schedule to keep, they hit each other and will not leave us alone for five minutes to pee (yes, still).
So, we do not treasure every minute. We do not let things slide. We impose consequences and have serious discussions with dos and don’ts. When we hear about a child who has died too soon we feel so much guilt about sending our own child to his room. We think about how if today were our daughter’s last day we would want it to be filled only with hugs.
But, today, almost exactly a year after the Newtown massacre I went back to my daughter’s Girl Scout Troop to talk about cookies. They listened and took notes. They remembered things from previous years, they were polite and worked well with each other. They are now mainly nine and ten, and they are still just as cute, but less obnoxious.
The reason they have grown and are growing in to reasonable human beings is because we parents have gone about our lives. We have imposed consequences along with hugs and kisses. Our children have grown up.
The children of Newtown were not allowed to grow up. So, yes, remembering that horror I’ll give a few extra hugs and kisses. But I won’t feel guilty for not living each day with my children as though it could be their last.
I’ve been given the gift of time with my children, and I will treasure it, and use it, even if that means sometimes acting like I’m not.
