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.

Back to school ~ #MondayBlogs

Our local schools open next week. It's been several years since either of my offspring were students in the local school system... somehow though I still tend to feel a bit morose over the idea of summer being over.

As a child I remember my mom having tears in her eyes the first day of school EVERY YEAR. My sister and I were always filled with the excitement of new adventures, showing off new outfits which Mommy sewed for us, painstakingly printing our names on brand new marble composition books, and looking forward to the fun of the nights sitting with our parents cutting open brown paper grocery bags to cover our school textbooks. Yet Mommy still looked sad as she sent us off that early September morning.

While our offspring were in school, my sister and I would commiserate by phone every September even as our children headed off with the same wide-eyed anticipation my sister and I always had. We relived fun summertime family adventures and looked forward to weekends and holidays. Of course as the kids grew more and more of their out-of-school days were filled with their peers and numerous social activities.

For some reason I am still conditioned to face the beginning of the school year with dread, I don't know why. But then again I still haven't recovered from my daughter's first day of kindergarten when she marched off with a big smile and not even a look backwards.

Wishing everyone a productive school year!

An Open Note to My Offspring ~ #MondayBlogs

Just because you are grown, married and self-supporting adults does not mean that I, as your mother, the woman who raised you, will not stop worrying about you and caring about your welfare.

A mother's heart doesn't turn off after 18-years, it doesn't even turn off after 30 or 40. And if your mother is still around when you have your own charges to worry about, she will still experience frantic moments of concern, irrational fears, and shed tears whenever you are hurting.

When I hear of mayhem and connect it, correctly or not, to the place you might be, I can't describe the paralyzing fear that I feel suspended in. When you are ill I am perfectly ready to trade places with you if only you will be well. And when you have reason to cry, your tears slice right through me with pain almost too heavy to bear.

You are my child... forever. And it is my right, not obligation, to carry you in my heart. Ironically even the children I did not raise, who became my children after becoming your love, also get a healthy share of my concern and worry. This is all just a mother's love.

And now that you are adults and making your own way in this world I adore and chuckle when you show a similar anxiety for my well-being, when you worry about my driving home from your place, or when you call me on my cell and demand "Where are you?" simply because I didn't answer my phone at home. I love the concern you have for your dad and me and maybe you can understand a tiny bit how I feel.

So when I ask you to text me when you get home or call me when you're late arriving, or I express my worries about the distance you are driving in nasty weather — laugh at me if you want, but please don't ignore my pleas. This is the way I was programmed from the moment I heard your first heartbeat, I knew I loved you and would always care about you.

Call me neurotic...

Call me a worrywart...

Call me Mom.

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 Mother's Day Weekend

Just wanted to wish y'all a
Happy Mother's Day

There are always mixed feeling to such an observance for those of us who are blessed to be moms and for those of us who remember the gentle nurturing of our own mothers. 

So I say thank you to my mom who passed away in 1979, the lessons she taught have carried me through life and I only hope that I have been able to emulate some of her mommy-ness for my own offspring. ~  I also remember my husband's mom and want to say thank you to her for raising such a fine son. I am blessed with wonderful memories of strong and capable women who knew how to let their children know they were loved.

And speaking of blessings, I have the most beautiful of all - my daughter and my son and their chosen mates. I thrill each time one of them calls me Mom. And I marvel at the two babies I coddled and how they have grown to be absolutely fantastic adults. I love them for being my "babies" and I admire them for their accomplishments and talents.

But enough about my boasting...

This weekend also makes me think
"What is a mom?"

It isn't necessarily genetics or even gender anymore. A MOM is someone who nurtures and loves, a MOM is selfless and devoted, a MOM can give magical kisses and at least for a while is thought to know all the answers. Most of all, a MOM doesn't lose herself and yet her kids become her world. Being a mom is a great state of being.

So for all the nurturers, all the caregivers, all the huggers and all the confidants, I hope you enjoy your day with your little ones, with your fur-babies, and with the partner who helped make you a mom. (And if you are lucky enough to have your mom around, enjoy.)

Being a mom is one of the best feelings
in the world!

Mom mom mommy ma mom ma mommy mommy mom …"What!"

When I write, I fall in love with my heroes, I admire my heroines, and I try to humanize my villains. But the characters I have the most fun creating are the moms.

I had a terrific relationship with my mom, lost her far too many years ago, and have often wished I could be more like her as a parent. My mama was southern born and bred although she lost most of her thick southern drawl after living in NYC all of her married life, when she was upset, the SOUTHERN really came out. Which was really funny because my dad was Puerto Rican and spoke English at home except when he got mad, then he reverted to Spanish. If my folks had a dispute, I felt like I was being raised by Ricky Ricardo and Scarlett O’Hara.

But I digress…

When I write a mom into my stories she can be overprotective and manipulative, comical, almost always loving, sometimes pushy, usually young at heart, often opinionated and almost always adored by her offspring. In my latest WIP, the mom isn’t all that flattering, although she adores her son she is kind of a be-yotch to her daughter-in-law. None of the top TV moms have anything on my character moms.

My favorite mom in my novels has always been Sylvia Hughes from “His Lucky Charm” and “Within the Law”. Cousins Caitlyn Smythe and Tom Hughes were raised by Sylvia who Caitlyn calls Aunt Syl. Sylvia is loving and sometimes a little too involved in her kids’ lives. (and yes, she often uses the colloquialism “kids”, she’s just very down to earth.)

In this brief excerpt from “His Lucky Charm” Sylvia expresses concern for her son, his lost love and his solitary lifestyle:

“Tommy, you are a young man.” Sylvia continued. “You should not live alone.”

“Ma... please.” Tom laid his fork down next to his plate.

“You’re a good looking man.” She turned to Caitlyn. “Isn’t he good looking?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Brandon, you’re getting married. Isn’t it a nice feeling to be settling down?”

“Ma! Stop it.” Tom stood up from the table. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He left in a hurry. The back door slammed shut behind him.

Sylvia looked at the rest of the family at the table. “What did I say?” She looked at each of their faces. Caitlyn was studying her plate. “What did I say?”

Walter shook his head and kept eating. “Sylvie, you never learn. Leave the boy alone.”

“What? I’m not allowed to care about my kids?”

Caitlyn put her fork down on the table and leaned over to hug Sylvia. “Aunt Syl, we love you. Tommy just needs to set his own pace. It will happen. Don’t worry.”

Sylvia took Caitlyn’s face in her hands and looked at her eyes. “I just want you two to be happy. That’s all I want.”

Caitlyn smiled. “I know.”

“You hear that Brandon?” Sylvia’s voice cracked. “You better keep my baby happy.”

“Yes ma’am.” Brandon looked at Caitlyn and saw her smile at him. “I plan to work at that for the rest of my life.”

“Good. Very good.” Sylvia nodded and went back to eating.

I think Sylvia is a little bit like Kitty Foreman from “That 70’s Show”.

Some years back I was told by my offspring that I am most like Rosanne Barr. I’m not entirely sure that’s very complimentary, but they said it was. I’ve never been very traditional, have never hesitated to embarrass my daughter and son, and have always loved them fiercely. I’ll never be June Cleaver, or Donna Reed, Marion Cunningham or Clair Huxtable. At least they never claimed I should star in “Mommy Dearest”.

How would you describe yourself or your parents? Do you have a TV mom-type you may have been "raised" by?