I’ve found it more and more difficult to blog these last few years – for several reasons. At first it was because the internet began to feel scary. Expressing opinions – even ones gently uttered in the context of anecdote seemed open to every form of attack.
Then it was about my kids being older and I recognized I didn’t have permission to tell their stories in the same way.
But lastly, once you stop writing, stop telling your story – it’s hard to start again.
And so, I’ve narrowed by online presence to one of observation and hopefully, some snarky humor and lots of pictures of my dog.
I’ve missed being here. So, I’m going to take a little shaky step here and write a little bit about what’s rattling around in my heart these days.
As most of you know, we have 2, almost 3 teenagers in our home right now. They are an interesting bunch – these teens. They are the reason I sigh in grocery stores when I hear tender and caring mothers gently correcting their young ones…
“Sweetie. Don’t drop that 2 liter of soda. It will explode later when we try and open it.”
“That’s sounds awesome, Mom!” (…and the 2 liter hits the floor.)
The kinds of conversations, warnings and advice my kids need feel heavy, important, sometimes dire.
“Babe. I’m so sorry they won’t let you cheer at the pep rally now because you felt uncomfortable performing a hyper-sexualized dance they choreographed. Yes, I expected the coach to lead out differently in this. Yes, you were right to take a stand. Yes, it hurts to be punished for doing what’s right. Do you want me to step into this further? No? You know I will. You know I want to. It’s OK? You’ll figure this out? I know you will. I am proud of you.”
“You’re right. I haven’t really thought through my perspective on this issue. Yes, I have been towing the Christian party line on this a little mindlessly. Let’s add this to the growing list of things you’d like me to consider from a different point of view.”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, but you have completely and utterly surpassed my knowledge in this area. You literally cannot ask me for help because I don’t even know what you are talking about.”
So, there’s that.
I can’t protect my kids from the world to the same degree I once did.
Many of the things they are facing, I have never faced myself.
Their perspective on issues often stretches my own.
Um, I never actually took any math beyond Algebra.
My default mode is to strain toward peace – bending myself completely out of shape to catch whatever is headed toward a fall, to smooth over every hard feeling, and to carry the heaviest load when we face obstacles.
It pains me, that even when I do all of this, my external world remains filled with loose ends and chaos. There are moments of peace, but fewer and fewer nights that remind me of the Christmas poem…
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads…
I’m on a journey in figuring out how to live in this new land. I’m not doing it super well just yet. There seem to be moms who really thrive in this territory – who maybe didn’t when the kiddos were drooling and wearing diapers. I think I’m a more natural fit for drool and poop – but natural or not – I’m where I am.
I’m looking for new mentors and new resources. I’ve read some great books and several bad ones. I’m on my knees a lot – or more accurately – praying while cuddling with my comforting purr factories.