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When I was born, Gerald Ford was president. John Denver, James Taylor, Barry Manilow, and the Bee Gees were standards on the radio. A gallon of gas cost $.44. [Feel free to pick your jaw up off of the floor now. I can wait.] The Vietnam War officially ended. Jaws was the most popular film of the year. The VHS tape (now obsolete) was introduced and Bill Gates created Microsoft.
Me. Today. On my 36th Birthday
Turning thirty-six insists that I’ve officially moved into the “next age bracket”. This means that when I fill out forms, I’m no longer grouped in with the 20-somethings (see Wiki: US Census - Middle Age). I’m starting to be called Ma’am instead of Miss. The gray hairs which I’ve been sporting for the last 10 years are starting to accumulate (which, to be frank, I actually like, and am doing nothing about, so take that, Time). The “oldies” station on the radio plays 80’s music now. But I’m not complaining; I loved eighties music.
This year was awesome. I started running. Back on April 12th, I got up off my bum, and got on the treadmill. (I only lasted about ¼ mile). I got up the next day and did it again (& the next day...). Next week, (almost exactly 6 months after starting running), I will be running a 10k event! I’m feeling healthier than I have in a long time. I’m reading much more often again. I travelled a lot this year with my family. I’m writing on my blog with greater frequency (and I think people might actually be reading it? Anyone? Anyone? Beuller…). Adam and I have gone to see real movies in the theatre recently. AND? I started back roller skating! So my 36th year was a darned good one.
But, here’s the thing. I’ve noticed that my hollywood contemporaries are aging, and… I don’t recognize the new ones. The 20-somethings of the world look so young to me. The teenagers I see in are babies. Heck, my own children will BOTH be teenagers in less than 6 years. What…WHAT?! Jane’s Addiction is about to release a new album and I remember when their first one came out. My friend from college said about the new album, “I may have to get that for my Geriatric Lollapalooza mix”. Which… Exactly. (Sigh.) See, Kurt Cobain has been nearly 20 years gone, but when I listen to Nevermind, it sounds fresh to me! Time is passing, things are aging, but I’m still feeling young, and my memories of youth are still bright.
I don’t have a problem with aging, really (really, really). Age really is just a number, blah-di-blah. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the passing of time weirds me out just a little. My kids (no longer babies) have never not known a cell phone (my youngest hasn’t ever not known a smart phone), and have no idea what it’s like to carry change around for a payphone. What’s a payphone, Mom? We sold the last of our VHS tapes at a garage sale this year, and we converted our CD collection to digital six years ago. My mother’s generation? They went to the moon. My generation? They’ve discontinued NASA and downgraded Pluto from planet status. Time passes, things change, time continues on, etc., etc....
I’ve got a lot of time left. (89 years, actually, since I plan on seeing the next century.) So I guess I’d better get used the fact that my kids are currently better on computers than I was in high school. It’s just the way it is. I embrace the passing of time as each moment shows me something new. So, hello middle age (ha!)… what can you show me?
Sunday Spark: Oh River Rise From Your Sleep
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This entire album is wonderful, but this song in particular is quite touching. Hope it gives you a little spark to start your week. Enjoy!
The Maker – Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds
(Live at Radio City, April 22, 2007)
Oh, oh deep water, black and cold like the night
I stand with arms wide open; I’ve run a twisted mile
I’m a stranger in the eyes of the maker
I could not see for the fog in my eyes
I could not feel for the fear in my life
From across the great divide, in the distance I saw a light
John Baptist walking to me with the maker
My body is bent and broken by long and dangerous sleep
But I can’t work the fields of Abraham and turn my head away
I’m not a stranger in the hands of the maker.
Brother John, have you seen the homeless daughters
Standing there with broken wings?
I have seen the flaming swords there over east of Eden
Burning in the eyes of the maker
Oh, river rise from your sleep
~ Daniel Lanois (The Maker)
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On this September 11th, I wish deep peace to everyone on our earth.
Libera singing one of my favorite sacred chorale songs (it's beautiful, take a moment to listen):
Deep peace of the running wave to you
Deep peace of the flowing air to you
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you
Deep peace of the shining stars to you
Deep peace of the gentle night to you
Moon and stars pour their healing light on you
Deep peace of Christ the light of the world to you
Deep peace of Christ to you
~Gaelic Blessing (John Rutter)
Navigating the Rough Seas of Parenting
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If you are confused check with the sun
Carry a compass to help you along
Your feet are going to be on the ground
Your head is there to move you around
~Michael Stipe
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Parenting is a hard voyage. It is all-consuming, frequently painful, and often unfair journey involving reluctant captains, mutinous crewmembers, and wonky compasses.
I frequently find my map torn in two: one side wanting to do it right and the other side wanting to enjoy it. I know this should be a pleasure trip I’ve taken myself on, yet I realize I can’t just sit back & relax; I’ve got to be actively engaged, even when the journey starts to wear on me. The crew so often demands it.
Still, while I try my hardest to ensure that my children are friendly, polite, don’t get hurt, don’t hurt each other or someone else, are educated, clean, healthy, and able to entertain themselves, I am confronted – in spite of my very best efforts – with grumpy, rude scallywags who are loudly complaining of boredness while hitting one another.
Sigh.
Now, their outcome isn't all in our hands, I realize. Our children are their own people. They make their own choices. They have their individual DNA. So I should be able to step back, and just let it be, right? Surely if it were any other task, I might walk away for a bit. Take some time off. Let the ship steer itself. But here, in parenting there’s no walking away. We’re all on this trip together… and I’m their captain. Can’t maroon the ship, or the crew.
In fits and starts of inspiration – some deep well of patience and creativity (which I frequently have no idea where to find and when I do find it, is often fairly dry) I sometimes find a way to correct with gentleness in spite of anger I might feel, guide with an end goal of peacefulness in spite of feeling that I’d like them to walk the plank, discipline with fairness, teach through example, talk to them – even when I’d rather yell, listen – even when I feel like… well, jumping ship. But other times, I’m barely hanging in there; feeling rather seasick at my lack of creativity and patience and direction as the perfect storm is brewing. Where’s my navigator to guide me through the storm?
I find my ability to guide their day in synch with my own is oftimes off-course. I’m tired from work. They’re tired from school. I want to teach, to guide. And yet I still crave some freedom and space – for myself, and them. It’s an awkward dance. Sort of like R.E.M’s Stand. As performed by a 13-year-old. (trust me on this one, I have some experience here. 1989 was sort of an awesome year.). Sometimes my impromptu navigation serves us all well: A little correction here, a little freedom there. Realizing it’s okay if they’re facing North some (most?) of the time when I’m facing South. Sometimes we’re in synch.
And sometimes there’s smooth sailing. We have moments of sweetness, a lightness that touches my heart. Moments when I’m pretty sure Adam and I are doing the right thing, and that we’re on the right path and mutiny isn’t waiting around the corner (okay, just sticking with the theme, folks).
Much of the time I’m a little lost – realizing this journey is the most challenging and most important one I’ve ever taken in my life; knowing it’s something I must continue to do for the rest of their lives, and wondering – all the time wondering – whether I’m doing it right. It's a trip at once daunting and inspiring. I am encouraged, though, as mostly, I think we’re headed in the right direction.