I found this letter my dad wrote to me a while back. At the time, I was struggling with my teenage son, as most parents do. It was a very trying time for me. It was testing my devotion as a mother to the fullest. I felt weak for the first time as his mother and embarrassingly so. It's terrible to say, but it felt good to hear that I wasn't alone. It was a test of my commitment and loyalty, but we persevered.
My dad's letter helped me through it and I thought I would share it with you. Perhaps you can gain strength from it as I did and use it to your advantage.
He wrote:
"Just a note to say how much I love you........things may be overwhelming right now, but, somehow (and we don't know how or when) things always work themselves out.
When faced with hard times it is sometimes comforting to reflect on the beautiful occasion(s) that led to this time. For me it is always thinking back to that gorgeous 18 year old that I made a promise to so long ago at the altar of God. Maybe, in this case, it's that first time you held that beautiful baby boy.....for I'm sure that's all it took to dedicate you to a lifetime of devotion.
Reyna, you've faced tough obstacles before and always landed on your feet. It is important to recognize that the toughest obstacle you'll ever face is devotion.
Devotion tests you, it comes charging at you, it envelopes you and it tries to drown you. It will unnerve you, it will frighten you and it will confuse you. But, know that you'll feel pride when you pass the test, you'll gain strength to face it's charge, you'll learn to shed the paralyzing cocoon, and you'll learn what it takes to keep your head above water. You'll be more steadfast....you'll become valiant..... and you will become certain. True devotion will always make you a better person.
A wise man we all knew once told me your children are your life and your legacy. Lee didn't profess to know much about either, but, his life produced his legacy.
We all do our best to control our life, but, it's going to turn out the way destiny chooses. That leaves you with your legacy, and a new chapter is written every day. You are the author, so choose the words carefully.
I love you,
Dad"
Nuff said.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Why my grandmother is who I strive to be, and why I'll never be like her...
I don't know if this happened because she passed away, or if it's just my age, but perhaps it's just a little bit of both. My grandmother, Mary, was the kindest, softest, and most "put-together" women I have ever met. She cooked a meal the size of my Thanksgiving spread almost every single Sunday and the entire family of aunts, uncles and cousins would be there to enjoy it along with Grandpa's music under the fruitless mulberry tree. And as I recall, the small 2 bedroom 1 bath house was as clean as a whistle. She had obviously been cooking all morning, and somehow there were no dirty dishes and she didn't even have a dishwasher. When did she find the time to wash the dishes? Now don't get me wrong, I am fully aware that it was only Grandma and Grandpa living there, not making large messes and so on, but those images are engrained in my mind. I can remember vividly how perfectly the beds were made; even her sheets were ironed, or "pressed" as she would say. The kitchen floor and counters NEVER had a crumb on them and the toilet and tub were spotless. To boot, she was always happy, kind and not rushing or sweating in the kitchen to prepare the meal.
I recently had my son's 16th birthday party at my home. I prepared food and cleaned the house as well. I had actually been cleaning for almost a week prior. The day of the party, I enlisted each of my children to help me around the house with the remaining chores while my husband worked to prepare the yards. By the time the party started I was literally sweating, trying to make sure every chore was complete and done to my satisfaction. I also needed to make sure my hair and make-up were in place and that my food would be ready in time to eat. All the while, all I could think about was Grandma. She wouldn't be sweating, and her house wouldn't take 5 people to clean it. Why?
Well, for starters, I think my "vivid" memories are a tad skewed. I mean, they have to be right?!? I was a child for one, I can't have really paid THAT much attention to every detail. In fact, I was outside playing in the barn until we were called in to eat. How do I really know how she was acting inside? And perhaps my mom and aunt were inside helping her finish up everything, washing the dishes, putting things away etc. Now I know for a fact her house was immaculate. That part of my memories I don't doubt, but the calmness that I remember, how could it be?
Was it her genetic make-up, just the way she was born or raised? Could it be her old age, or even a tiny pill like valium? Or just my imagination?
But knowing what I "vividly" remember, I place more stress on myself to be just like her. Perfect! My sheets should be pressed, and my toilets should be spotless, and for God's sake, I have a dishwasher, I certainly shouldn't have dirty dishes. The pressure I put on myself is terrible, making the task at hand seem even harder to attain.
When I walk into my home, my eyes are immediately drawn to the crumbs on the kitchen floor, like Crumb Radar. Then my eyes scan in horror as I notice the pillows out of place on the sofa and the kids afternoon snack wrappers on the table. And it all gets worse when I notice the shoes, socks, backpacks and homework tossed all around the dining area. By then, I am sweating, my mouth is foaming and steam is coming out of my ears. To resolve, the issue, I either start shouting orders, or my attentive husband notices the dripping steam from my head and starts shouting them himself, trying to avoid his wife's inner demon from escaping.
As each evening wears on, I shout between 20 and 30 more orders to any given person. Pick up your shoes, take a shower, where's your homework, brush your teeth, what were you thinking…etc. etc. etc. By the time I go to bed, I often think, WWGD? What would Grandma do?
I can't honestly say. But just the pressure of knowing how perfect her home was makes it that much more important to me.
I recently told my husband that I honestly feel guilty that I don't make everyone's bed each morning. He thought I was nuts. And yes, I am a working mother, not a stay at home mom, but I feel brainwashed by my grandmother and possibly television, that mom's are supposed to make their kids beds. Yes, I know, we have to teach our children how to be independent and self-sufficient. But I still have that guilty feeling.
So I asked myself today, what if I just stopped trying to be like Grandma? What if I my memories of her were skewed and she were less perfect than I remember? And my answer is that I don't think I would be the women I am today, if I at least didn't try. I know times are different, and I know I work full-time and have twice as many children as she, but if I didn't try, my carpet would be permanently stained, and we would never have a clean spoon and their shoes would still be in the living room.
If I didn't give orders, or make them clean up their own messes, they would never learn to clean up after themselves.
I recently went into my step-daughter's bedroom to find a mess far beyond my wildest imagination. While she was gone, I decided to tackle it myself. I was crying, angry, and sweating. After three and a half hours I decided to stop and wait until she returned to finish the job. At first, I was going to scold her for not keeping it up to my standards. But after a 24 hour cooling off period, I came to my senses. I realized that everyday, the kids learn from me how to keep the kitchen swept, the shoes put away, the pillows neatly placed and the dishes clean. But we never had daily lessons of keeping our bedrooms organized. When she returned, I decided to show her how to organize, how to plan ahead and how everything in your room has a place. It's been almost a week and she's already invited several friends over after school to play in her room, which she hasn't done for quite sometime. She's obviously proud of what her room looks like now. And she told me that she made sure to clean the mess up before her friends left. And since she is our princess, I hope I made a good impression on her, giving her good advice instead of it being a terrible memory of when her evil step-mother made her scrub the floors, and polish the glass slipper.
About two weeks ago, I started placing little note cards around my house. Little reminders to the family members, a.k.a CHILDREN, about how to take care of certain things. Here's a sample of my reminders:
On the microwave –
"If you make a mess in the microwave, please CLEAN IT!!!"
On the toilet –
"If you just used this toilet, please flush it. And courtesy flush the pooh please!"
Over the kitchen sink –
"Rinse your dish off COMPLETELY"
So far, the little reminders are working!
Perhaps it's all in my head. I call it "shouting orders", because that's how it feels, I feel like a drill sergeant. But I am probably just teaching lessons and being a mom. I know in my heart, I will never be that "vivid" memory of my grandmother, but I strive each day to be that woman. And maybe one day, when I am 65 and have no children at home, retired, and baking, I will get there.
Until then, please put your shoes away!!!!
I recently had my son's 16th birthday party at my home. I prepared food and cleaned the house as well. I had actually been cleaning for almost a week prior. The day of the party, I enlisted each of my children to help me around the house with the remaining chores while my husband worked to prepare the yards. By the time the party started I was literally sweating, trying to make sure every chore was complete and done to my satisfaction. I also needed to make sure my hair and make-up were in place and that my food would be ready in time to eat. All the while, all I could think about was Grandma. She wouldn't be sweating, and her house wouldn't take 5 people to clean it. Why?
Well, for starters, I think my "vivid" memories are a tad skewed. I mean, they have to be right?!? I was a child for one, I can't have really paid THAT much attention to every detail. In fact, I was outside playing in the barn until we were called in to eat. How do I really know how she was acting inside? And perhaps my mom and aunt were inside helping her finish up everything, washing the dishes, putting things away etc. Now I know for a fact her house was immaculate. That part of my memories I don't doubt, but the calmness that I remember, how could it be?
Was it her genetic make-up, just the way she was born or raised? Could it be her old age, or even a tiny pill like valium? Or just my imagination?
But knowing what I "vividly" remember, I place more stress on myself to be just like her. Perfect! My sheets should be pressed, and my toilets should be spotless, and for God's sake, I have a dishwasher, I certainly shouldn't have dirty dishes. The pressure I put on myself is terrible, making the task at hand seem even harder to attain.
When I walk into my home, my eyes are immediately drawn to the crumbs on the kitchen floor, like Crumb Radar. Then my eyes scan in horror as I notice the pillows out of place on the sofa and the kids afternoon snack wrappers on the table. And it all gets worse when I notice the shoes, socks, backpacks and homework tossed all around the dining area. By then, I am sweating, my mouth is foaming and steam is coming out of my ears. To resolve, the issue, I either start shouting orders, or my attentive husband notices the dripping steam from my head and starts shouting them himself, trying to avoid his wife's inner demon from escaping.
As each evening wears on, I shout between 20 and 30 more orders to any given person. Pick up your shoes, take a shower, where's your homework, brush your teeth, what were you thinking…etc. etc. etc. By the time I go to bed, I often think, WWGD? What would Grandma do?
I can't honestly say. But just the pressure of knowing how perfect her home was makes it that much more important to me.
I recently told my husband that I honestly feel guilty that I don't make everyone's bed each morning. He thought I was nuts. And yes, I am a working mother, not a stay at home mom, but I feel brainwashed by my grandmother and possibly television, that mom's are supposed to make their kids beds. Yes, I know, we have to teach our children how to be independent and self-sufficient. But I still have that guilty feeling.
So I asked myself today, what if I just stopped trying to be like Grandma? What if I my memories of her were skewed and she were less perfect than I remember? And my answer is that I don't think I would be the women I am today, if I at least didn't try. I know times are different, and I know I work full-time and have twice as many children as she, but if I didn't try, my carpet would be permanently stained, and we would never have a clean spoon and their shoes would still be in the living room.
If I didn't give orders, or make them clean up their own messes, they would never learn to clean up after themselves.
I recently went into my step-daughter's bedroom to find a mess far beyond my wildest imagination. While she was gone, I decided to tackle it myself. I was crying, angry, and sweating. After three and a half hours I decided to stop and wait until she returned to finish the job. At first, I was going to scold her for not keeping it up to my standards. But after a 24 hour cooling off period, I came to my senses. I realized that everyday, the kids learn from me how to keep the kitchen swept, the shoes put away, the pillows neatly placed and the dishes clean. But we never had daily lessons of keeping our bedrooms organized. When she returned, I decided to show her how to organize, how to plan ahead and how everything in your room has a place. It's been almost a week and she's already invited several friends over after school to play in her room, which she hasn't done for quite sometime. She's obviously proud of what her room looks like now. And she told me that she made sure to clean the mess up before her friends left. And since she is our princess, I hope I made a good impression on her, giving her good advice instead of it being a terrible memory of when her evil step-mother made her scrub the floors, and polish the glass slipper.
About two weeks ago, I started placing little note cards around my house. Little reminders to the family members, a.k.a CHILDREN, about how to take care of certain things. Here's a sample of my reminders:
On the microwave –
"If you make a mess in the microwave, please CLEAN IT!!!"
On the toilet –
"If you just used this toilet, please flush it. And courtesy flush the pooh please!"
Over the kitchen sink –
"Rinse your dish off COMPLETELY"
So far, the little reminders are working!
Perhaps it's all in my head. I call it "shouting orders", because that's how it feels, I feel like a drill sergeant. But I am probably just teaching lessons and being a mom. I know in my heart, I will never be that "vivid" memory of my grandmother, but I strive each day to be that woman. And maybe one day, when I am 65 and have no children at home, retired, and baking, I will get there.
Until then, please put your shoes away!!!!
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