Final birthday for 2009
Happy birthday to me!
If I could tell myself anything and change the past, I would say to the young girl who had just moved to Denver Colorado in 1979: don’t be afraid of the life you find here. Life may not always be easy or happy or full of warm gushy feelings, but it can be full of adventure and fun… and ultimately, it is yours. You will make mistakes. You will stumble along the way but lack of perfection is human and it’s okay. You don’t need to live in shame and fear the rest of your life. You don’t need to worry about the Big Lightening Bolt of God’s wrath if you’re not a believer. You have questions and you need to follow those to find your own true path. Follow your bliss and don’t worry about making the people in your life happy. They never will be so it is a futile effort. Don’t take efforts (as defined by your overzealous parents- and grandparents) to be perfect. It’s not attainable and will only lead to your making decisions that have nothing to do with what is best for you.
Sound the Bugle!
Sound the bugle now – play it just for me
As the seasons change – remember how I used to be
Now I can’t go on – I can’t even start
I’ve got nothing left – just an empty heart
I’m a soldier – wounded so I must give up the fight
There’s nothing more for me – lead me away…
Or leave me lying here
Sound the bugle now – tell them I don’t care
There’s not a road I know – that leads to anywhere
Without a light I fear that I will – stumble in the dark
Lay right down – decide not to go on
Then from on high – somewhere in the distance
There’s a voice that calls:
Remember who you are!
If you lose yourself – your courage soon will follow
So be strong tonight – remember who you are
Yeah you’re a soldier now – fighting in abattle
To be free once more …
Yeah, that’s worth fighting for
Another birthday!
Twelve!
A young man.
Today is a beginning and ending for you. You are no longer a baby, no longer a toddler who needs mom and dad to help him over the rocks. Today I watched you figure out how you were going to get up and down the slope, through the bushes, and over the rocks to where a piece of garbage lay in the mud– it wasn’t a fun job but you did your part and I was glad to see you working at getting the task done. This small task is like life– it’s not always clean and it’s not always fun. You sometimes have to give up what you want or wanted to do in order to make your world a better place, but you’ll find at the end of the day, that it is very worth it. This is true in your relationships to others and to the earth.
Physically you will change whether you want to or not, or whether your dad and I have prepared you for it or not. You’re hormones will take you on a wild ride and you might find girls to be a bit of a distraction. Girls and sex and romance are all wonderful and great, but don’t let your hormones get the better of you. You have a life to live and if you get too distracted with your physical desires, you will miss out on the last bits and pieces of your childhood- pieces that you will cherish later. You might also sabotage your ability to have the life you want. (I’ll speak plainly that if you get a girl pregnant and she wants to have it, you will be ordered to pay child support. This means you might not be able to get the education you want. At the least it will make it much harder).
You will also feel constrained by the demands of my house or by your dad’s. It’s important for you to learn how to confront those rules that are unreasonable and to deal with those that are simply the result of living with adults that are looking out for your best interest whether you want them to or not. You may not always know the difference, but I can help you understand it if you speak up about your frustrations.
For my part, I will always insist that you are work hard in school and put forth your best work. I will restrict your behavior if you are blowing me off and doing only what you think you can get away with. I am not impressed with the education you are getting in school so I may ask for more than what your teacher is requiring of you. I would do this because I love you, because I want you to have a happy life and you’re not going to have a happy life if you’re not smart enough to make good decisions. You and your sisters have natural intelligence but when you don’t use it and strengthen it, then you won’t be able to make good decisions when the time comes. You might feel like you’re really accomplishing something by having other people do things for you be playing dumb or getting a sad face, but you are only hurting yourself by falling into that (really bad) habit. To manage your life with some sort of ease and enjoyment, you will be best off if you are strong, smart and honorable. You gain those qualities by working at them. None of them come easy.
So much to think about! So much to consider!
Fortunately you don’t have to learn it all today. You have the days in front of you to learn about life and who you want to be…And if you’re struggling with knowing who you want to be, look at the people around you who are truly happy and enjoying life. They cannot tell you who you are, but they can give you a clue about how you can figure it out for yourself.
I want you to take the naming ceremony seriously. You can choose a name that will really reflect who you want to be or what you to do someday (For example: “Flyboy” might be a name for a kid who wanted to be a pilot). You could use it as your middle name if you want to.
Happy Birthday
You were the only one of my children who was “planned”. I wanted to have two children- well, your dad and I had always talked about three or four but I knew I didn’t want to only have one. I felt and feel only children are spoiled and have way too much attention. I was very convinced your sister was going to be a girl but never had a solid idea of your gender. To be truthful, I was a little scared of having two girls because I knew that sisters have a different relationship to each other and to their mother. I could try to kid myself that the reason yours and my relationship went awry was because of this dynamic, but that would be to lie about all the really wrong things that did happen during your growing up and I am determined not to lie to myself or you anymore (whether intentionally or unintentionally)
You didn’t come with all the drama that accompanied my previous pregnancy and it was nice to feel more relaxed about it. (Well, as relaxed as I ever am which to be honest, is difficult for me sometimes. Too much of my life was feeling guilty about… well, you name it. I felt guilty for nearly everything!) At any rate, I was excited about having a new baby. Excited about you.
I went into labor on Tuesday and on Wednesday I went to the hospital convinced you were going to be born soon only to have the doctor send me home. By the time I got back to the hospital on Thursday, I was determined I was not going to be sent home again. In fact, when the doctor said I was not in full blown labor yet, I said “I’m not going home. This baby is going to be born today.” He shrugged (probably accustomed to cranky women in labor) and said “You can walk around for a bit but it could be several days before you dilate enough to be admitted into the hospital to deliver.”
Dumb doctor.
Your dad and I walked up and down the halls for perhaps an hour, maybe two. Perhaps you knew I was tired and you were ready too to be born. Or perhaps the shear determination I felt that I wasn’t going to go through another day of labor brought events to a head. Whatever the case may be, I didn’t walk too terribly long before I was ready to have the doctor check again.
The doctor, on the other hand, was not convinced that I knew what I was talking about. He half-heartedly checked me again, all set to tell me to just go home and rest. His eyes widened a bit and he said, “Well, you’re dilated to a four. You are going to have this baby!!” (It actually seems like he said “seven” but that seems like a labor induced exaggeration so I am modifying to reflect what is more likely the truth).
From there, things happened pretty quickly. I wanted to have an epidural (they are lovely drugs!) which I didn’t get until I was pretty far along. In fact it seems like it was around 11 before the anesthesiologist got his butt in gear to get to me. By the time the pain killer kicked in, I was ready to push. Your nanny was in the delivery room and of course you have the heard the story of her dumb pronouncement “You have your boy!” I don’t really remember why she was there, frankly. I think she just wanted to be and neither your dad nor I had the courage to tell her that she needed to do what other grandparents (including your nanna) did- wait in the waiting room.
And that all happened 19 years ago! My how time flies!!!
Most of what I long for you to hear, you would not, do not listen to. I have many things that I would like you to know– how to have a HAPPY life,
not just surviving…
not just getting by…
not just having a nice car or a big house…
Life is about far more than that.
Your birthday is your day to reflect on who you are- on what the past year brought you or took away, on what you gained and what you lost. (It really takes more than one day for most of us- we could probably all use more like a month) It is good to reflect, because when we reflect we can weight the things that are truly good and those things that we need to set aside. At nineteen, you are so fortunate that you have so much time ahead of you to create a good life for yourself.
And you truly can create a good life for yourself if can extract yourself from the muck you’ve inherited. Religion is not going to have any answers for you and it is not going to give you any direction. That’s the erroneous shit that you inherited from me.
You have inside you the potentially fatal problem of loving people who have no right to your love and loyalty- this is probably also something you inherited from me. Part of growing up is choosing to have people in your life people who support you but DON’T always give you what you want just because you want it. Part of growing up is learning to take care of yourself and not loving indiscriminately. You aren’t going to save them and they are going to leave you eventually anyway. And, importantly, it does not make you a better person to love people who abuse you.
Selfishness is not going to take you anywhere– in fact it will ruin any potential for you to have a loving and lasting relationship with anyone who truly loves you. That’s the erroneous (and dangerous) lesson you learned from your father. You have to learn to make decisions that are best for you in the long run. You are not a baby anymore who has an empty stomach that needs to be filled right now! And one day, when you do find someone, you will have to learn how to think about what is best for him. Your needs can’t be the only ones that are considered.
Take the time on your birthday to reflect. It’s been a difficult couple of months and it will continue to be difficult if you don’t find a way to make better choices for yourself in the long run. But if want to have a good life– and really, it’s ridiculous to tell yourself you don’t want to have a good life– you take responsibility for your life. Don’t wait around for someone to give it to you or to save you. It’s all there in front of you–
I love you and want the best for you! Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday
Your Nana was sure you would be born in the pool or at least come out swimming. It had been a long hot summer and I felt like I made a whale look slim and fit. And I was positive that an elephant could pirouette me under the table. I didn’t carry those last months with grace…
I was sure you would be born early, but as I would learn every first mother thinks that. I was also positive that you would be the smartest, prettiest and most creative child on the face of the earth. Once again, I wasn’t the first new mother to think that although you certainly showed an incredible amount of acumen early on and you were (and still are!) a gorgeous girl. Well, and creativity doesn’t always display itself in paintings. Sometimes it’s revealed in the various ways one child could find trouble (lest you ever forget the Curious case of the Naked Child in a Suitcase Incident!).
Twenty-two years ago, I was naive enough to think that I had what it took to be a good mother. If I’d been a little older and a little more experienced, perhaps I would have understood that I did not yet have all that I needed…
Nevertheless, on August 18. when my water broke and I had no doubt that you were going to be in my arms soon, I was thrilled. I was also terrified of the tearing and breaking that was sure to come when an 8 lb. infant descends through a body part that is– well, generally too small for a head that is 9″ in circumference to get through! But I survived your entrance and you survived me, I guess.
What I hoped when you were born– well, perhaps one of the greatest mistakes a parent can make is to cast all their hopes and dreams onto their child. So what I hoped for when you were born that morning (at 3:30 a.m.! Now that was a long day!!!) is perhaps of little consequence. Perhaps what you should know now is what I hope for you now…
I hope that you are happy. I hope that you find joy in sunsets and contentment in a quiet moment with yourself. I hope that you are your BEST self. That you love well and are well loved in return. That you give knowing that giving is a gift to yourself, recalling you to the greater humanity to which we are all a part. I hope that you are awed by the vastness of the universe and curious about the intricacies of a honeybee hive or a spider’s web. I hope that you find things that so enthrall you that the day slips away and you go to your night’s sleep still entranced by the day’s adventures, and that you slip past the entrapments that can bog you down and chain you to earth. I hope that you have magic in life and…
I hope that you are happy.
Tenderheart
For some children, a wounded bird is cause for poking and prodding– science experiments without the science– or at least guided science. Children do learn about the interior workings of the body, life… death… from observing wounded animals and, occasionally, inflecting a modicum of insult to injury to the injured. Yet this child had a marshmallow heart that immediately led her to create an impromptu animal rescue center in the backyard. Not a few times, a flailing robin or sparrow was carried tenderly into the house to be viewed by the mother and for ministration, but little to be done for the bundle of feathers in her little hand which was, alas, finally, taken to the backyard for burial. Tiny headstones occasionally commemorated the Glorious Dead of feathered foundlings.
It was on just one such day, wounded bird carefully in tow, that the five year-old met the Birdlady.
“I just wanted to take care of the bird, mommy.” The child sobbed when she came in the door of the meandering house that the family lived in, chubby fingers achingly empty of her little patient.
The Birdlady, the neighborhood character, who gathered birds the way some people gather flowers or knicknacks on the shelf, drove a car that seemed to tilt as it waddled down the street that she used to crate her rescuees to and fro (which certainly appalled some of the healthier friends of the weak and weary she taxiid). She viewed herself as “The Protectorate” of birdlife in Denver and with fervor of a missionary, she cared for her charges, duck and green heron alike.
Further inquiry led mother and child down the wandering path of understanding– She’d taken her recent rescue to the Birdlady because she wanted to know what she could do to help it. Unhappy with the little one’s inept attempt at following her footsteps, the Birdlady had taken the wounded warbler and sent the child away a few harsh words. The rescuer was no doubt right that the bird needed to be cared for by someone who knew what she was doing, the mother explained to the youngster. If the bird can be helped, then someone who knows what they’re doing is the one who you should give them to– she should not try and do it herself.
Some moments passed and the mother hoped the child had let the memory of the wounded sparrow in her wake and was off on another adventure of childhood after she left the kitchen and wandered back outside. But this was not the way of the child.
Apparently, concern for the bird overtaking her hurt at the rebuke, she caught up with the Birdlady again and asked her how the little seed-eater was doing. Having gotten her protective reaction out of her system, the Birdlady’s mood lightened and she invited the child to come and help her care for the little bird until it was healthy enough to give wing to flight.
From that day on, the Birdlady became a friend to the child, teaching her to love and care for the winged creatures in her care and it was a sad day for the child when the Birdlady moved and took her bird rescue with her.
In a word… Precocious
She toddled about, looking for adventure in a way that might be described as suicidal. As a young mother, I was too addled and “adult” to always see the potentiality for high sea piracy and daring charges on the castle, but she clearly was not.
One fine day, a Sunday to be exact, and not unlike any other Sunday, one that had been complete with rushing and bustling and harrassment. But we made it to church nevertheless, intact in our Sunday fineries. She was always dressed in a frilly frock that would have appalled the mother at the age but seemed not to agitate the toddler so the frills went on uncontested. The totlet was taken to Sunday school, this not without protest, and was left in the care of the Sunday nanny who was well versed in the care of the church’s tiniest minds. (Never mind that tots should not be subjected to the ideas that are implanted there before they have the wits to contest them… that was not at issue this day…)
I rounded the corner to bump into my little one, fresh from an excursion and being closely followed by the church’s personal brood mare, one Zora Darrow who wanted to have as many children as her body could stand- never mind that the little christian community could barely stand the first two of her ultimate eight. The little face turned up to me, her generally happy and mischevious eyes sad and ashamed.
“What’s the matter with you?” It was no doubt an angst that came with dealing with said adult and I sympathized momentarily for her plight.
“I had an accident.” She whispered quietly.
“An accident…” With this simple phrase, the child immediately tapped into the Battle of Eau de Toilette– a battle that had been going on for some time between the child and the mother of her parent’s desire that the tot no longer have her bottom padded with costly two inch thick padding for excrement collection. “Did you pee or…”
“poop” was the sheepish response.
“You pooped your pants? At church?” Outcries of disgust and plugged noses filled my mother’s mind as I imagined the reaction of the all too close pew sitters. There was no backup of underclothing, let alone a dress. Washing and wearing weren’t going to work if the mess were in any way runny or even smeared.I bent down and none too gently patted the bottom and met the soft mass with my hand.
I sniffed with anticipation.
No odor.
Hmmm…
The Sting
So there is a lump in the back of the little one’s britches… but no odor.
Odd!!! It’s the rare child that can poop their pants without punishing all who are nearby with the stench of their diminutive body’s daily B.M. (And why is it that little people can smell up a large space so effortlessly???)
So I lean over and look inside, thinking that I might be able to clean her little britches out without having to abandon the morning’s activities, pull the pants back and find…
Oh, my GOD! It is unbelievable! Completely mind boggling.
Nestled into the toddler’s underwear is…
a pile of…
a big wad of…
tissue paper.
The child had not pooped at all but had played a fantastic prank on her mother worthy of a Calvin and Hobbes strip without Hobbes to egg her on!
Learning from mistakes…
One way to look at things is to ignore mistakes and never look for anything better. It would mean always feeling like you were just okay but it would also mean you (or I) were always subject to making the same mistakes over and over again. Looking critically at what was bad or wrong about the past means I can make decisions that are in my best interest and will help me have a life that is good and positive as opposed to a scratch-and-sniff survival…
One of the huge mistakes I made was to have children and raise them with the same belief system I was raised with.
