Daily Prompt ~ Distance ~ #MondayBlogs

I found a terrific writing site (thanks to my friend Sugana) — The Daily Post: Daily Prompts provides a NEW daily prompt every day to give every writer a way to put a spark in her/his creativity. I decided to join this group every so often...

Today's Prompt is DISTANT

Definition of Distant: [adjective] far away in space or time, "distant parts of the world". synonyms: faraway, far off, far, far-flung, remote, out of the way, outlying, extrasolar, "distant parts of the world"; long ago, bygone, olden; ancient, prehistoric; literary of yore, olden, "the distant past"; away, off, apart, "half a mile distant".

What does the word DISTANT make me think of? Distant memories come to mind.

There’s the distant memory of a mother’s comforting kisses whenever a boo-boo made my child-self cry, or her comforting embrace when teenage angst seemed like the most tragic thing in the world. There’s also the distant memory of my father being able to fix anything in the world no matter how shattered the toy might be. As I reached my teenage years and entered adulthood my dad always managed to say exactly the things I needed to hear. I was just a newlywed when my parents passed away and I do miss those memories.

Now as an adult reaching my golden years with my own grown offspring I think back to every time I tried to sooth their aches, whether physical or in the heart, and wondered if my hugs and kisses were as magical as my parents’ were. And though they are now adults and more-or-less have no need of mom and dad to fix their problems, they are still my kids and always will be. Every time they make a turn that I want to give some advice about I go back to those distant memories and wonder what my dad would have said. Luckily most times I think at least twice and try to keep my mouth shut. I wonder if my children will one day have distant memories of those times that I didn’t meddle?

Life is made up of distant memories that influence all of our actions today and tomorrow. Distant memories can seem so sweet, some tug at the heart, and others that once felt so monumental now seem so insignificant. Our memories can sustain us and guide us and maybe sometimes embarrass us… but I wouldn’t trade those distant memories, those are my keepsakes forever.

When Do You Stop Being a Parent? ~ #MondayBlogs

When? For most of us the automatic response is NEVER!

But as our offspring grow from toddlers to teens and finally branch out on their own as adults, our roles do change drastically. So often it seems as if our children challenge everything from the moment they can say their first words so we should be used to it when they become rebellious teens. By the time they are young adults you are pretty much considered the cute but doddering old person who is now ready to switch out on who changes whose diaper.

Let’s begin with WHAT is a parent (mom or dad) — parents should do their best to ensure the health and safety of the child; parents teach by example; a parent sets rules, explains them with more than just “because”, and doles out appropriate consequences if they are not followed; parents help the child learn problem solving and decision making; parents help teach responsibility, assign chores and allow their child to deal with penalties when they shirk responsibilities; parents encourage goal setting; and a parent teaches that respect is a two-way street. Most of all parents need to provide unconditional love and constant emotional support without making a big deal of it.

The end-game is to teach our young to grow to become independent adults who can make their own decisions, take care of themselves, and pursue their own visions. Ideally, even while our child’s growth makes us (feel) obsolete and useless, we should continue living our own lives without guilt, without worry, and hopefully without having to “bail” our kids out of jams. IMPOSSIBLE.

We never stop worrying and wanting to be part of our children’s lives, and we should be content to live vicariously without stealing any of their glory. Sometimes it takes some of the burden off of our shoulders when we know they have someone to go through life with, to take care of AND be taken care of. And while we are not responsible for the mistakes they may make, it is inconceivable for us to stay silent and try, TRY, to guide them… besides they don’t want to listen anyway.

We never stop loving our children or feeling a “knife” twist in our hearts when we know they are hurting. Even when our offers of advice and help get turned down FLAT, we still push at least a little even when we have to suffer their wrath. If we have faith, we pray non-stop others, burn candles and fashion amulets, and still others may resort to bribes. A parent would do anything to make sure his or her child is happy, safe and accepted.

In addition to accepting the fact that we seem to be constant embarrassments to our offspring, we need to always be there just in case they do decide they want us. We live for the moments when they do seek our opinions.

A parent’s job is NEVER done.

Home is Where the Safety Net Is ~ #MondayBlogs

As we have now reached the time in our lives when we are facing empty-nest years, I can't help looking back and examining our parenting prowess and hoping that we did a decent job.

In our home our children brought home school drawings and projects which were posted on the refrigerator and the kitchen walls. Our living room walls were filled with family pictures (predominantly the children) through the years, and even when they were "naughty" and being receiving just-punishment, they were never denied affirmations of love. As a mom I tended to be over-protective and it took a whole lot of will-power to learn to cut the apron-strings, but I wanted my children to feel and be safe from whatever forces I could control.  We wanted our children to know the real world, even the ugly side, but we never wanted them to feel they would have to face it alone.

I believe that a child's home should be the place they feel safe, secure, encouraged and loved.  I know that there are situations where children are cheated by abusive parents and that thought so totally angers me. I am talking about the "average" expectations of home life — the type of environment every child should be entitled to; I wish every child happiness, safety and love.

My 30-year-old just married son  and I had a recent conversation about parenting. His insights, as usual, left me thinking.

We talked his definition of a Safe Haven, a term I've used to try to describe my ideal of home life. To him a Safe Haven kept a child isolated from real-world problems, the parents would shelter their offspring and in the end, not because of any ill-will, deny them the ability to make hard decisions on their own. According to my son, parents need to allow their children to fail now and then, and to learn that they are not always the best. He was vehement that Participation Trophies are horrible life lessons that served as a reward for not even trying. But he did assure me that his childhood was filled with love and encouragement and that he wasn't complaining.

Even though we might have disagreed on some definitions, we did agree on the need to encourage children to try their best and that there were times they might not succeed. It is okay to fail IF YOU TRIED and that winning was never a requirement to be loved; however competition was healthy and winners should be acknowledged and rewarded. If you support the idea of Participation Trophies for very young children, they should never replace or be substituted for winning accolades. If someone (child or adult) is part of a winning team effort, you can acknowledge all of the players, but the reward for the MVP should stand out. Truth be told, if my effort and accomplishment is greater than another person's, it is a slight to receive the same recognition — why should I even bother?

Daughter and son are married adults with spouses who help to provide support and encouragement nowadays. Our daughter has constantly reminded us that we raised her to be independent and able to make her own decisions and when necessary they work their problems and decisions out as couples.. I am comforted by how capable they both are. I look forward to the day I get to see what kind of parents my offspring will be, which of our methods will be emulated and which will be avoided.

For now, I am learning to cook for two again, to make our own plans and to admire the adults our children have become. And I am hoping that I've done a decent job as mom.

Happy Father's Day!

Father's Day is a celebration honoring fathers and celebrating fatherhood, paternal bonds, and the influence of fathers in society (from Wikipedia)

A lot of men can be a "father" but it takes someone special to be a "Dad" - my cousin said that to me once when she was talking about her stepfather. It's so true.

My own father was my very first hero, more powerful than Superman, wiser than Solomon, and definitely more fun than a visit to an amusement park. He was very human and always owned up to the VERY FEW mistakes he ever made (he never pretended to be perfect), he was a fantastic role model, and was devoted with every fiber of his being to his wife and daughters. He was honored by a local civic group for being a community leader and always gave of himself selflessly.

In my romantic suspense novel Common Bond, Tangled Hearts, leading man Justin finds out that he is a father... and now he wants to meet the mother. The first time he sets his eyes on Layne he wishes he had known her before. But most importantly, Justin decides that he has to be a father that his son, Dennis, can be proud of.

(excerpt))

If he was reading her surprised expression right, she was expecting somebody else to be on the other side of the door when she swung it wide open. Cautiously, the willowy blonde pushed the door partly closed before politely inquiring if she could help him.

Justin took his time letting his eyes roam from her short, tousled hair down to her very long legs. He noticed, in typical male fashion, how very shapely those long legs were. She was wearing a loose fitting shirt and cut off jeans, her feet were bare.

Layne felt uncomfortable as the stranger's eyes made their leisurely excursion. She closed the door just a little bit more and then fortified her courage with the thought that her nosy neighbor, Mrs. Addamson, would open her door at the least little yell she might make.

"Is there something you want?" She impatiently asked him and then blushed when his eyes flew up to meet hers with an amused smile.

Oh baby, where have you been all my life? He thought and then smiled politely. "I was looking for…" he carefully checked a piece of paper he held in his hand. "…for Layne Gillette." Justin said 'Lane'.

She refrained from correcting his pronunciation. For the last few years, Layne had explained to people that it was pronounced like Janie except with an L.

"Who's asking?" No matter that he seemed to fit the exact description of tall, dark and handsome that she and her friends always joked about, she was wary of any stranger who came looking for her.

"My name is Justin Ross…" He waited just a moment to see if there was any recognition, he was disappointed. "I was told that Layne Gillette lives here."

"It's Lay-nee…" She was expressionless.

"Hi, I take it you're Lay-nee?" His eyebrows arched as he emphasized the proper pronunciation.

"What do you want?" Layne inconspicuously braced herself against the door so she could slam it forcefully in his face if need be.

"It's… uh… personal. May I come in?" He was mesmerized by her golden eyes.

"No." She was firm.

It took a moment before her refusal totally sunk in. Not many dared to refuse Justin Ross anything. He took a deep breath in and started to patiently explain to her that he needed to speak with her privately. "Look, I just came a long way… and we really need to talk…"

"Hey Mom, is that Rita?" The childlike voice startled the both of them. Layne turned her head to answer when Justin pushed on the door with his hand and knocked her off-balance. The door swung open and Justin got his first look at the little boy who had his mother's golden eyes. Like his own hair, the boy had jet-black curly locks and the contrast was extraordinary.

"Is that him?" Justin pushed his way past Layne and went to the boy. "Are you Dennis?"

The little boy stared at the stranger who had pushed past his mother. Justin didn’t mean to scare him and started to smile.

She was ready to physically tackle him as she shouted at her son. "Go to your room… now!"

"But Mom…" The boy looked between the stranger and his mother.

"And close your door!" She put herself between the stranger and her child. The door to the hallway swung wide open.

"Mommmm…" He did his best to hide his trembling lower lip.

"Now!" Layne stared at him until he obeyed. She stood with her hands against Justin's firm chest to block his advance. She swung her gaze back to Justin, he could have sworn her eyes glowed with rage. "Did Charlie send you?"

He was puzzled by her strange behavior. She seemed overly melodramatic. All he wanted to do was see the boy. "Who's Charlie?" He was annoyed when he heard the click of the boy's bedroom door.

"Just answer the damn question!" Layne had tried to mentally prepare herself for just this kind of confrontation for the last six years, but she never thought her anger or her fear would be so great.

"I don't know… who the hell… Charlie is!" He forcefully brushed her hands off of him. "Look, I came to speak to you because…"

"If Charlie didn't send you, who did?" She cut him off.

Justin tried to control his own frustration. He understood this woman's need to protect the boy from someone she didn't know, but he needed desperately to see the boy. He resented her refusal.

"No one sent me!" He made sure not to yell.

"Then why are you here?" She wouldn't trust him.

"Because… we need to talk." It was harder to say it than he realized.

Layne was prepared to defend her son with her life if she had to. "…about what?"

"You and I need to talk. I'd really like to do this calmly." Justin knew she wasn't going to react very well. She was being too overprotective without knowing the reason for his visit. Once she found out…

"What do you and I have to talk about? There’s nothing for us to talk about." She wasn't letting her guard down for anything. And if he thought he could just come in here and shove her around, he'd soon learn differently.

"Layne…" He tried to reach out for her, she sidestepped him. "We need to talk about… our son." He saw her look of shock. "We need to talk about Dennis."

She slowly turned her head to look at a photograph of Dennis that was sitting on the top of her television set and made the comparison to the man standing in front of her.

Suddenly she screamed at him and began to beat at his chest with her clenched fists. "Get out! Get out of here! Get the hell out of my home!"

"Layne, calm down." Justin tried to defend himself from her blows. He grabbed at her hands and tried to hold the struggling woman away from him. “Stop struggling. Just calm down!” That's when he heard a door open.

"Should I call the police, Layne?" Mrs. Addamson called across the hallway from the protection of her own doorway.

Justin wanted to see the boy again. He wanted this beautiful lunatic to stop attacking him. He didn't want to have to call his lawyer to get him out of jail. "I'll be back." Justin turned on his heel and left. Mrs. Addamson slammed her door as he entered the hallway.