40 Means Not Having to Say You're Sorry

Maybe it’s because the many commercials for Saving Mr. Banks remind me how the chipper, original Mary Poppins measured herself as, “Practically perfect in every way.”  Or maybe it’s because I keep vying for some Norman Rockwell picture perfect holiday moment with my kids.  And that hasn’t happened.  Or perhaps I felt it last week when I apologized to another elementary school mom for not going to my children’s winter school parties.  I mean—am I the only mother who opted out in lieu of lapping up some quiet before the 16-day school vacation?  Unlike Chicago sang in 1982-- it’s never been hard for me to say I’m sorry.  In fact, sometimes I find myself saying it too much.  It is one thing to say sorry if you do something wrong.  But at midlife I find people apologizing for unnecessary reasons: either to fit in, to not offend, or to explain for less than perfect lives—especially when it comes to decisions we make as parents.  Isn’t it time to just be true to yourself and let things be? 

Here’s an example: at a party this fall I was talking to parents of middle and high school-aged children. When asked whether my kids played sports, (they are in fourth grade and younger), I practically whispered with an apologetic shrug, “They play soccer, but it’s only rec,” as if I needed to make an excuse in this overly competitive kid culture.  Or maybe it’s more like we parents are the ones trying to fit into a perfect parental picture.

Looking back on that conversation I wonder what’s happening to society and people my age.  It seems my peers lament about our overcommitted schedules, the woebegone days of our youth when we didn’t play organized sports until third grade, and the lost days of three-letter high school athletes.  Yet here I am, proud of my kids, loving that they love to play sports, but I’m sipping rum punch and feeling guilty that I’m not spending the money and time to cart my kids all over just to play soccer. Should I feel bad that I’m not seeking college scholarships for my kids’ obvious athletic talents?  Am I less dedicated to my children?  Do I not believe in them?  Am I masking a part of me by apologizing?  My point is: why do I grapple with feeling guilty? 

And it’s not just travel vs. rec sports.  I find myself apologizing for not signing up my kids for karate because it’s a 10-month commitment, or not encouraging them to swim because I hate sitting in a natatorium and smelling chlorine, or not driving that long 25 minutes to a drama class even though it would be a terrific experience for my daughter.  The onslaught of opportunities gets caught in a web of confusion, resentment, and pressure.  And that’s all in our own minds.  

As we strive for perfection in our own families we mothers often feel the responsibility of making the right decisions.  Our insecurities bubble to the surface as “sorry” statements.  Instead our focus could be trying to do what is best at this time in our lives—not only for our kids, but for ourselves.  We need to keep our own sanity in check.  And by doing so we show our children that “only rec”—or whatever our newest qualifier is—is not an apology but a life choice allowing for balance.  Mary Poppins floated away with an umbrella and flawless red lips.  For the rest of us—(I’ll be Saving Mrs. Sheldon)—we can rise above by not making excuses and perfect the art of not fitting into some ideal, unattainable mommy mold.

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If you have time--here are some suggested articles:

Just Remember: Nobody’s Perfect article in Philadelphia Inquirer -- http://www.philly.com/philly/health/20131222_Just_remember__Nobody_s_perfect.html

http://www.phillymag.com/articles/travel-soccer-parents-nightmare/?all=1

and http://www.stltoday.com/news/local/metro/is-it-really-a-good-idea-for-kids-to-play/article_2e072908-c2d2-5616-8a77-69a1a88f2386.html

Even the Naughty People in Your Life Can Add a Nice Perspective

I grew up with my mother often retelling her view of friendship…that her mother always said to her, “You’re a lucky person if you can count five good friends on one hand.”  While I agree with this truth, and I’m blessed for my friendships, sometimes I get nostalgic for friends who once were in my life.  Or I get frustrated by the people who bring negativity, and I wonder if I should just cut ties.  At this age should we just maximize our time and only create memories with those who bring us joy?  After a holiday of giving thanks for the good I’m starting to realize that even the bad--including people who may be on Santa’s naughty list--have a purpose. 

If you think about it—the characters we bring into our lives help us shape our life story.  And every good story needs drama.  For interesting drama there needs to be conflict.  And for tension to exist these “bad” people have a role…but maybe it’s not so bad.  Any good novel or movie needs that character to spice up the storyline.  Remember—in life you’re the main character of your own best novel.  It would be boring if there were no villains.  The positives these individuals bring to my life: they add perspective, patience, and strength.

1—These negative people do offer a different perspective.  You can try walking in their shoes and understand where they’re coming from.  You can think about how you could help them.  Maybe they’re missing something from their lives.  By trying to appreciate their view your own mind gets stretched and maybe you’ll think of something you’ve never thought of before.  They don’t think or act like you would, but they’re not you. 

2—As a mother the most important virtue I’ve nurtured is patience.  And believe me, my volcano erupts more than I’d like it to.  The same applies when these folks drain me.  I feel my stress meter rise.  When irked by someone I find myself doing deep breathing, making more of an effort to listen, and trying to be as compassionate as possible.  It’s like I’m exercising a part of my soul that needs strengthening. 

3—Lately I’ve been focusing on one word when dealing with extra difficult people, and that’s “fortitude.”  For some reason when I recite this word it brings me peace that I can have the strength to withstand someone’s judging statement, someone’s passive aggressive behavior, or some action that just cuts to my core.  I know if I have the strength to get over it, to let it slide, I’m a better person for it.  And then I use that memory of strength to get me through the next time it happens.  And I feel calmer and surer of myself.

I’m not saying that my mother and grandmother would start counting “bad” people as blessings on their fingers, but maybe it’s time to be thankful for these people in our lives.  Just a simple shift in how we think about these relationships.  As we learn to live with them our own character further develops. We should appreciate that they help give our life meaning, playing a role in our life story. 

Give Someone--or Yourself--a Lift

I felt brave on the lift.

Anybody else afraid of chair lifts?  Even though I’m not a skier I’ve been on some, and they just feel so open, which is probably purposefully designed for the thrill seekers who attach their feet to snowboards or skis.  This past summer we took the kids to Jiminy Peak in Massachusetts, and my heart flipped when I saw my two older kids inch their way up the mountain to the alpine slide entrance.  Their bodies looked incredibly exposed on those lifts, like they could just fall down from the sky towards an injury.  Sure, the ride up the mountain—in snow or summer—is relatively easy, and the ride down is heavily charged with joy, tinged with terrifying terror at times. 

When does the going get easy?  During my twenties and thirties most of living focused on building a life.  It would seem, at this perch of plenty, that we should be able to enjoy the view, not work as doggedly tired, and relish the ride down--savor what we’ve created—even for a short while.  But I’m starting to feel like that’s not the course.  Lately my heart has been heavy for friends who are grieving for sick or recently deceased loved ones or who are depressed and scared about their own illnesses.  Sometimes I feel-- at this point in life-- we are dodging fateful health blows, periodically looking up to see what will shower on us.

Work hard.  Make decent decisions.  Live by a moral code.  Do good for others.  How do we lift ourselves up when we try our best, yet destiny has a way of striking our hearts so that we are forever changed?

I don’t have the answers; there’s so much that happens on Earth that is inexplicable.  All I do know is that when times get tough it helps to rely on friendship, spend time with the people who comfort you, and acknowledge that the open air, vulnerable chairs will keep rounding the bend and pick us up.  We need to have faith that we will fall back into the seat to be taken for another ride.  The chair lift on Jiminy Peak doesn’t stop—even in summer--and as long as we’re here on Earth we might as well be calmed by the soothing repetition, the scenic views, and the sometimes quiet of the ride.  For who knows how bumpy the run down the mountain will be?  Those sky rides can be scary, and if you know someone who has been shaken reach out and give them a lift of love.  That’s the ticket.

If I’m an Old Soul…at 40 Does that Mean I’m Really 80?

I’m eagerly awaiting the premier of Anchorman 2, simply because Will Ferrell’s humor makes me laugh.  Just the thought of him streaking down the street in his skivvies in Old School makes me smirk…because, even though I love to have fun, that would never have been me in college.  Maybe if there had been a movie entitled Old Soul I could have made a cameo appearance.  Yes, I was that fifth grader who begged my mother to buy me my first corduroy blazer—purple, by the way—that would go perfectly with my gray sweater vest and pearls.  I always attributed my affinity to suits and grown-up attire to sneaking glimpses of LA Law and Family Ties and thinking that Alex P. Keaton and I would someday marry.

Point is…I’ve always been an old soul.  If the essence of an old soul means thinking too much about the future without enjoying the present, then yes, throughout my life I have been guilty of that.  Naturally I’m a planner and a worrier.  But at this point in my life I don’t want to skip ahead.  At almost 40…would that make me almost 60? 80?  How do I remain true to my current age without letting the future get in the way?

As a kid I appreciated my childhood, but a part of me couldn’t wait to get older.  Now, though, I don’t feel that way.  I hesitate to even think ahead a decade.  I wonder if this is the best time of my life, and if so, am I grateful enough for my blessings?  Instead of reminiscing about the past and anticipating the future---maybe during this weekend of gratitude I should focus on what’s great about being 40.

Forty is fabulous because:

• I won’t become a cliché this year buying a cool sports car, (wait…would that be so bad?)
• I can have fun embarrassing my kids
• I always knew fluorescent colors would make a comeback
• I have tons of great memories and photos to make me smile
• I can justify going to bed early because I’m worn out
• I love feeling settled
• My children are kids before their teenage years-- I still have some control over them, and everyone isn’t going their separate ways
• There has been tons of time to build some expertise, to learn much, to gain life perspective
• The oldies station plays music from my childhood, not just my parents’ generation
• There are plenty of people I can rely on for advice and friendship
• Madonna will always be older, and she looks pretty good
• I’m still young enough to dream about the next chapters in life

I fully realize I'm not 80, and when/if that time comes I hope I'll be scribing many more life lessons and gratitude lists.  But even now--if I could whisper advice to a younger version of old soul me I would say, “Savor the moment and don’t worry so much about the future.”  Because I’m here now, and the present really is a gift.  And I’d add a reminder to thank my mom for that blazer.