BABYJUICE

Tags

raising kids, Rob Lowe, Slate Magazine

Recently, my husband dug up a video from 2010.  Our youngest son was eight months old and in a walker, and you could hear me in the background repeating words, trying to get him to talk.

He was SOOOOO cute and little and bright-eyed and excited to blurt out each word on command: “da-da” and “bruh-bruh” (meaning brother).  Seeing this video again, I literally cried with joy when I watched it, so I watched it over and over in disbelief. My little boy is now four years old, and he’s reading, writing his name, talking up a storm, and loving Michael Jackson music!

Where did the time go?

How I wish for that baby again and that yummy baby smell! To kiss and snuggle him endlessly and to hold him in my arms!  When our kids were little, we rushed them along, pushing them to the next stage–and we were always sure the next stage had to be better than the one we were in! But when I looked at that video, here’s what I thought:

I want my baby back!

I don’t want him to grow up, go off to college and leave me.

Our older son is now approaching ten. DOUBLE DIGITS. Mercy! When he was younger, I would sometimes tell him that I wanted to give him “Baby Juice” a fantasy drink that would make him go back to being a baby. Whenever I’d mention “Baby Juice”, he would ask, “What color is Baby Juice? What does it taste like?” My imagination would ignite and I would indulge him with all kinds of descriptions, “It’s purple and yummy!” and so on. But as he got older he started to question, “Mom, I don’t think “Baby Juice” is real. I can’t go back to being a baby, can I?” Then one day he said, “Mom, there is no “Baby Juice.” I’m getting older. I won’t forget you, I promise.”

Womp! Womp!

Now, “Baby Juice” is just a funny story that we sometimes laugh about.  But whether I like it or not, our eldest son is growing up and maturing day by day.

Last week I went to his end-of-year party at school and when I pulled out my phone to take photos of him and his friends, he threw up his hand and said, “Please, Mom, not now.”

Whoa!

I wasn’t ready for that!  Until now he’s always loved it when I would come to his school; and when I’d walk in, he’d smile. But now he’s beginning to want his independence; his focus is on his friends, and I get that. But it still makes me sad. I’m beginning to feel that the waves of time are moving so swiftly that in no time at all years will blow by.

Time flies, and my little boy is growing up SO fast.

If you haven’t yet, you must read Rob Lowe’s amazing and perfectly titled article “Unprepared” about his oldest son’s departure for college that just appeared in Slate Magazine. I’m having difficulty imagining my kids growing up beyond the age they are now–let alone going off to college! So I literally cried buckets reading Lowe’s beautiful and moving article in which he explains the sadness and emotional roller coaster that every parent must experience to a certain degree when their kids are leaving for college.  And as I read, I could see myself reflected in his words–and that when it comes time to send my first son off to college I’ll feel the way Rob feels now; as if someone is ripping away a piece of my heart.

So if you haven’t picked up on it yet, I’m a really emotional Mom!

I love to dote, snuggle, kiss, and call my kids tons of silly nicknames.  I take thousands of photos and videos. I save everything they’ve made; every single piece of paper, every piece of artwork they bring home I consider it a masterpiece because “my baby made this!” I don’t want to miss anything – milestones, events at school, games, recitals. You name it; I’m there.  I’ve even peeled back my career significantly so I can be home with my boys to shuttle them to activities and to be available when they want or need me. For now it works, and I never regret that I’m there when my oldest needs to talk to me about something that happened at school or when he has a pressing question (“Mom, what is puberty?” “Is “gay” a bad word?”).  And at the end of the day when I pick up my 4 year old from school and walk in his classroom and hear him squeal “MOOOOOOOM” followed by his little bear hugs, my heart immediately starts to sing and do a little dance.

Now, lest you think I’m just a total softie, I still reap significant joy from watching my kids grow, progress and meet milestones. I’m a big advocate of my children becoming independent as soon as possible. And because I am the mother of boys, I am well aware that my job is to prepare them to fly and soar so they’ll become strong, happy, dedicated and successful fathers like my husband and my dad.  I know I can’t over coddle or spoil my sons and impede their march to manhood. I don’t want to create Mama’s Boys; I want my sons to one day enjoy healthy relationships with their girlfriends, and then their wives. So I take great pride in pouring my all into them so that they can be their very best.  Being a parent is extremely gratifying especially when you can start to see the trees bear fruit.

So for now, I’m enjoying my “trees” being small, but growing sprouts that I’m still watering and loving and caring for daily–even when I’m frustrated, running low on patience and it feels as if my precious boys are tap dancing on my last good nerve!

But when I look at the big picture, the takeaway for me is this: slow down and savor every precious, yet fleeting moment of our lives.

As our sons grow up and college approaches, maybe I will find myself counting down the seconds to F-R-E-E-D-O-M (WOOO HOOO!) but for now, I’m super attached to these little rascals who on some days drive me crazy. I wouldn’t have it any other way…

But I confess that on some days, I just want to pour two big glasses of “Baby Juice”, wave the magic wand, and turn back time!

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Then: Oldest son!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here he is now! (Oldest)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Then: Youngest son!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here he is now! (Youngest)

SHOWTIME!

Tags

personal greatness, raising kids, recital

Youngest son in his school show performing Annie’s Hard Knock Life

Recital season is my favorite time of the year! This weekend, both of my boys performed on stage––the youngest in his school’s annual show, and the oldest in a drum recital and a citywide poetry festival.

I live for such moments!  Not just for the cuteness factor, the pictures, the videos etc., but recitals represent a crowning moment. The glorious culmination of  the Herculean effort exerted every single day starting at 6:30 am when I awake naturally without fail to get my boys fed, dressed, motivated, washed, brushed, moisturized, loved, hugged and off to school for another day.

The never-ending energy–the patience, the organizing, the monitoring and overseeing that I engage in day in and day out is mind blowing, but always gratifying. Staying on top of my sons to be nice, kind, well-mannered gentlemen; respectful to their teachers; friendly to their peers; to put their very best foot forward everyday; to strive academically and unleash their potential is a constant effort. Encouraging (some days forcing!) them to follow the house rules; to be humble and grateful; to complete their chores without reminders (WHEW! Can’t wait for this to happen!); and have my boys adhere to the values my husband and I are laying as their foundation.

On and on!

It seems endless.

Oldest son performing Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe” with his all kid band, The Unshushables

Raising kids is the toughest job in the world. We parents don’t always know what to do. [Correction: A great deal of the time we don’t!]  But we do our best! We learn on the job, we figure it out, we make mistakes, we drop the ball, we stink it up, we forget things, we miss deadlines, we teach a bad habit, we show our worst selves in front of them, we don’t always walk the walk. We are human; but we constantly strive to be better, and do better so our children can be the best versions of themselves. As parents we push our kids on to their own personal greatness–just as we are in the midst of our own crazy and imperfect lives, desperately trying to figure it all out.

Most of the time we parents are stretched!  I’m exhausting myself just writing about it! Phew!

But in recital season, when the curtains go back, and those little faces are up on stage and it’s SHOWTIME, we moms and dads are finally redeemed! All  the hard work: the prayers; the worries; the tears; the fears; the frustrations; the hopes; the doubts and the angst are worth it!

At SHOWTIME, all the “practice” has paid off– not just for our kids performing in their recitals, but for us—for every mom and dad, and everything we did to get them to that point.  During recital season we realize we’ve done something right! Our kids have reached a milestone that reveals their potential to themselves, and we parents can celebrate our huge part in that. Our babies, who we love more than life itself, are up on the stage of life, growing before our eyes, becoming the people they are destined to be. And we are in tears, clapping like crazy, recording every bit of it on our devices but most of all, recording it in our hearts. Our children are on the stage called life and we are the producers, directors, cast, audience, promoters and their most loyal and exuberant fans.

At SHOWTIME, when it all comes together, I’ve come to realize that we should stand for a bow, too. So all you parents, guardians, grandparents and caretakers, take a bow!

Standing O!

Encore!

We did it!!!!!

A Mother’s Day Gift

Tags

Mother's Day, mother's love

Today is my thirty-fourth Mother’s Day without my mom. She was forty when she passed away; I was eight.

When you lose your mom at such a young age, you spend the rest of your life wondering. What would she be like now? What would she look like? How would she talk? Act? What kind of advice would she give? How would we get along? How would we share special moments like my wedding day and the births of my sons?

For most of those thirty-four years, I dreaded Mother’s Day and as it approached I experienced a dark cloud of sadness and a looming loneliness. Gratefully, though since the birth of my first child, Mother’s Day has become a happier time for me because I have been blessed enough to experience God’s greatest gift: being a Mom myself. Yet and still, for many years the ever-present unanswered questions remained.

Some of my questions were answered last year when my very dear and special friend Barbra bravely faced her mortality in the form of a terminal breast cancer diagnosis. In our countless heart to heart conversations about her battle, and the inevitable, the central theme was always her precious eleven year old daughter. Barbra was as strong as steel in every aspect of her cancer battle, but when it came to her daughter, that’s where all of her worry, angst, sadness and pain lay. Over and over Barbra expressed her deep desire for her daughter to be ok…and not just ok, but she wanted her daughter to thrive and be happy. To be strong and self-sufficient; she wanted her daughter to know how to do her own hair; make herself a meal and have a professional makeup lesson for her sixteenth birthday!

Listening to Barbra was heart-wrenching, but the more I listened to Barbra, the more I realized that the way Barbra felt must have been EXACTLY the way my own mom had felt. Barbra’s concerns were my mother’s concerns.

As Barbra talked, I heard my mother telling me that she would’ve have given anything to still be here with me, my dad and my brother, but since she couldn’t, she just wanted us all to be ok. She wanted me to be happy and to live a great life and do my very best.

Barbra didn’t realize it, but she was giving me a parting gift, and I soon realized that I was able to help her by sharing my insight about growing up as a girl without a mom. We were able bless each other.

Barbra’s insights have given me new peace for Mother’s Day. And in talking to her daughter leading up to her first Mother’s Day without her mom, I assured her that Barb is in heaven smiling down on her, and is soooo proud of her and the beautiful young lady she is becoming. I have been able to tell Barb’s daughter that her mother still loves her more than anything else in the world, and always will.

And each time I encourage and comfort Barbra’s daughter, I am reminded of my mother who still wants the very best for me. This is what mothers do. We make everything ok. We pour every fiber of our being into our children, their welfare, happiness and productivity. We lay the foundation, instill the values, make a path and then encourage our kids down it, root them on, catch them when they fall, apply a band-aid and a kiss and then push them back out there. We dole out invaluable insight, advice and guidance as well as lectures, scoldings and finger-wags. We love unconditionally. And a mother’s love is boundless, timeless and endless. My mother’s love continues. Barb’s love for her daughter continues. All mothers in heaven continue to love. Our moms are always with us; they are very much alive in the deepest parts of our hearts.

So today, if you’re blessed to be a mom, cheers to you! You are the core from which your seed(s) are blossoming beautifully. Happy Mother’s Day to each of you, and lots of love and gratitude to my dear mom and my dear Barbra.

 

Barb & I having a blast together at the BET Awards in LA last June

My mom and I circa 1976

My mom, my brother & I heading to church circa 1974