Time passes so quickly when you are an adult. I remember being a child and thinking that the summer lasted forever, or that it was an eternity until I was in high school, or could drive. Even my 20’s seemed to linger nicely and not rush. I didn’t marry until I was 30 and from that point on the speed of my life took on a rocket booster.
Two children and ten years later, I find myself grasping for more time. That feeling sneaks up on me, unexpected, from the deepest parts of my brain. It happened just last night, in fact. My seven-year-old son came downstairs at bedtime, crying because he was “burning hot” and couldn’t sleep. I dutifully checked his temperature (totally normal) and felt around on him for hot spots. I suggested several solutions to his problem, each one resulting in a return of tears and frustration of not being able to sleep because he was hot. Finally, my husband put him in a cool bath to try to calm him. But back he came to me with tears in his eyes and asking me to “just help”.
I knew what was troubling him, he wasn’t so hot as he was in need of his mother but for whatever reason last night he couldn’t articulate it. Maybe he didn’t want to tell me because lately I have been frustrated and stressed, making me unapproachable. Whatever the reasons, his need for me manifested in a strange way. So, I climbed the stairs after him with the promise that I knew what precisely he needed.
Jake went right to his room where his curious father also waited to find out what this magical cure I had promised would be. I came in with a new top sheet for his bed, telling him that the best cure for hotness was certainly a cool sheet. I removed his blanket and spread out the sheet, singing him a little song. Jake started to yawn. I playfully put the sheet down on him; studying him intently for signs of sickness or fever – none appeared. He liked the sheet idea but what I did next in my two step program was the real cure. I laid down with him. I often lay down with him but last night he didn’t know how to ask me. I stroked his hair and sang him a lullaby and before I was finished with the second song he was asleep. Not more than two minutes after I laid down with him he was sound asleep. But that wasn’t my ‘a-ha’ moment.
These few minutes last night gave me pause. I studied my now-sleeping son. His face now peaceful and at rest had just moments ago been wrenched in distress. His little snore had replaced cries of “just help”. As I looked at him, I noticed how much he still resembles his infant-self; the baby I cradled in my arms just a few years ago. The same little mannerisms were there; his pursed lips as he drifted into a dream, his occasional crinkled nose. I must have studied his face for ten minutes, entranced by this moment of recollection. He is growing so fast, and I feel like I have missed so much. Before I knew it, I felt myself letting go of my crankiness that I’ve had for the past weeks (or is it months?). The crankiness was replaced by tears. Tears started shooting out of my eyes in big, fat drops. My sadness was for the time that had passed for Jake without me there, time spent at work or doing other things, time away from him.
I felt the hot wetness of my crying and tried to reason with myself that I was home every night and spent every possible moment but the tears kept coming because I realize that I only have a few short years of my children being children. Soon they’ll be teenagers and then young adults and while they may feel that time drags for them (as I did in my youth) I know that it passes quickly. I desperately want to keep these moments with my children and I worry endlessly that because I am a working mom, that I am missing that time with them. More to come on these thoughts….
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Moon Movies
As a child, my parents owned the house right next door to ours and rented it out. We had different neighbors every couple of years it seemed. When I was around six years old, a family moved in that, like ours, had only daughters. They had two young girls, and one was five years old; a perfect playmate for me. We got along well and my sister and I spent hours with them; they in our house, us in theirs. We explored the ravine behind our houses and ran through sprinklers. We created parades up and down the sidewalk on our bikes while playing recorders or a handmade drum or just simply singing and yelling while our mothers looked on. We danced together in the rain of the summer and embraced each day with open arms and hearts.
Their mother, Fran, was an interesting and influential part of my early life. Fran was not like my mother. My mother was very sweet and was a terrific mom, but she was not like Fran. At Fran’s house we learned about a completely different way of living. First of all, she listened to music, loudly, while she cleaned or cooked or played with us. I remember thinking how cool it was to listen to Steve Miller’s “Fly Like an Eagle” because my parents didn’t listen to a lot of music. Fran had a very bohemian lifestyle compared to my conservative parents.
She was a strict vegetarian and exposed my sister and I to her diet in a laid back and fun way. She made her own applesauce out of freshly picked apples that we helped to peel. She fed us lunches of fruits, vegetables and vegelinks – the vegetarian hotdog. Fran also would sit with us in the backyard and taught us how to make necklaces out of clover and other flowers. She was an active Hindu and she taught us how to meditate, how to be calm and breathe and then look for our spiritual inner eye. I spent such wonderful moments in her meditation room; at her shrine with the scent of spicy incense wafting through the warm room. It was so powerful that 34 years later, I remember it like it was yesterday. At that time in my life, I loved being with Fran, she was like another mother for me.
Though the mediation was powerful for me, another defining experience with Fran and her daughters stays with me to this day. On clear, warm summer nights, Fran would gather all of us girls around her, like our own personal Mother Earth and say, “Grab a blanket, it is time for Moon Movies!”. We would all scamper in to our respective houses and grab a blanket and pillow to then head outside with our parents’ blessing and some snacks. There, Fran would be waiting for us and she would take us on a guided tour of the stars, moon and planets. We would start by simply counting the stars as they appeared in the darkening sky and then begin calling out the constellations of Orion’s belt or the big or little dipper. Fran would explain how they got their names and talk about the movement of the earth and how we’re all tied to it. I relished those moments with Fran, and took them with me into adulthood.
So many years later, I often recollect those times with Fran and I am struck by how many of her lessons I have shared with my own children. We stop outside and look up at the stars and I ask them to find Orion and they know just where he is. They look forward to our nights of star gazing, and will be happy to remind me that we are long overdue for those moments. And when my children are angry or sad, we do deep breathing to calm ourselves; the basics of meditation.
I smile when I look at my parents and my sister, knowing that I am – by a long shot – the most bohemian of all of them. As I have grown and matured, I have come to love that part of me, that connection to the earth and the moon and nature. I know that Fran and her simple teachings had a profound impact on me; one that I carry with me and give to my children. I thank her for that.
Their mother, Fran, was an interesting and influential part of my early life. Fran was not like my mother. My mother was very sweet and was a terrific mom, but she was not like Fran. At Fran’s house we learned about a completely different way of living. First of all, she listened to music, loudly, while she cleaned or cooked or played with us. I remember thinking how cool it was to listen to Steve Miller’s “Fly Like an Eagle” because my parents didn’t listen to a lot of music. Fran had a very bohemian lifestyle compared to my conservative parents.
She was a strict vegetarian and exposed my sister and I to her diet in a laid back and fun way. She made her own applesauce out of freshly picked apples that we helped to peel. She fed us lunches of fruits, vegetables and vegelinks – the vegetarian hotdog. Fran also would sit with us in the backyard and taught us how to make necklaces out of clover and other flowers. She was an active Hindu and she taught us how to meditate, how to be calm and breathe and then look for our spiritual inner eye. I spent such wonderful moments in her meditation room; at her shrine with the scent of spicy incense wafting through the warm room. It was so powerful that 34 years later, I remember it like it was yesterday. At that time in my life, I loved being with Fran, she was like another mother for me.
Though the mediation was powerful for me, another defining experience with Fran and her daughters stays with me to this day. On clear, warm summer nights, Fran would gather all of us girls around her, like our own personal Mother Earth and say, “Grab a blanket, it is time for Moon Movies!”. We would all scamper in to our respective houses and grab a blanket and pillow to then head outside with our parents’ blessing and some snacks. There, Fran would be waiting for us and she would take us on a guided tour of the stars, moon and planets. We would start by simply counting the stars as they appeared in the darkening sky and then begin calling out the constellations of Orion’s belt or the big or little dipper. Fran would explain how they got their names and talk about the movement of the earth and how we’re all tied to it. I relished those moments with Fran, and took them with me into adulthood.
So many years later, I often recollect those times with Fran and I am struck by how many of her lessons I have shared with my own children. We stop outside and look up at the stars and I ask them to find Orion and they know just where he is. They look forward to our nights of star gazing, and will be happy to remind me that we are long overdue for those moments. And when my children are angry or sad, we do deep breathing to calm ourselves; the basics of meditation.
I smile when I look at my parents and my sister, knowing that I am – by a long shot – the most bohemian of all of them. As I have grown and matured, I have come to love that part of me, that connection to the earth and the moon and nature. I know that Fran and her simple teachings had a profound impact on me; one that I carry with me and give to my children. I thank her for that.
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