During a conversation with my newly employed, recently minted college graduate, she shared an office observation. “The 30-year olds seem impossibly mature and together. How will I ever get there?”
This was precisely the same thought my husband and I had the day she was born. I lay against the pillow in my hospital gown; my husband sat gingerly cuddling our newborn daughter in his arms.
Into the room ran my 3-year old niece, a cracker in each hand excited squealing, “I hold the baby!”
Our eyes darted to this capable 3-year old who could walk and talk and eat crackers. Then we gazed at our swaddled infant and thought, “how will our daughter ever get there?”
So when our younger daughter turned 21 and could walk, talk and eat crackers as well as drive a car, use a debit card and even mow the lawn, we said to one another, “well done on the parenting!” with the emphasis on done, our children were now capable, self-sufficient adults.
When I was in college I took a number of complex math courses. The classes always seemed to be late in the afternoon, and as the low sun angled in the windows, a room full of 20-year olds frantically attempted to follow the instructor as he scribbled out a proof on the blackboard. Invariably he would run out of room on the chalkboard or run out of time in class or both, and so would quickly scrawl, QED. To the lecturer this meant the rest is obvious, I have demonstrated the hard part.
And now, 30 years later, the roles were reversed. It was as if I were the lecturer, and the time in my classroom had drawn to a close as my youngest child turned 21. From there to 30? QED, or so it seemed to me.
I could see my daughter turning over in her head the concept of 21 to 30 being obvious. Like me and my fellow classmates gathering our notebooks in math class so long ago, QED only meant one thing to her, how in the hell do you get there from here?
Showing posts with label a mom's life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label a mom's life. Show all posts
You Got This Mom!
“Vamos!”
While offered with a cheery inflection, “vamos!” none-the-less conveyed a command to resume planting one foot in front another as we climbed to the 15,200-foot pass. My footfalls were slow and consistent. With each step I repeated to myself one word of a four-word phrase: Step, “you”, step, “got”, step, “this”, step, “mom.” However, as I continued up the incline inching closer to our goal, my pace slowed dramatically. I adjusted my mantra to: right foot, “you… you,” left foot, “got.. got”, right foot, “this… this,” left foot, “mom… mom.”
I looked ahead hoping to spy horses coming down the trail. Turns out that the best course of action when meeting a horse train while trekking near Salkantay in Peru is to stop, move to the side of the trail and let the horses pass, which offered easily a minute’s rest. Unfortunately, no horses were in sight.
An alternative hope: perhaps our guide Dalmiro would spot a flower or snake or point out a butterfly to us. Any educational stop offered more than sufficient time to regain steady breathing and simultaneously gain insight into the flora and fauna of Peru. For instance, one morning Dalmiro actively poked a snake with his hiking poles as he informed us it was indeed poisonous.
“Why are you poking it then?” I questioned.
“To catch it so everyone can see it!” Dalmiro responded enthusiastically.
Fortunately, the snake escaped into the undergrowth neither poisoning someone in the group, nor having its head chopped off.
During our downhill walks, our group’s conversation would be filled with laughter and plenty of games of broken telephone.
Just yesterday as we returned to our lodge, I found myself defining prophylactic for our Peruvian guide, who offered an animated analysis of why sexual drive is much stronger among jungle inhabitants than up in the mountains. His analysis—it all comes down to the amount of skin showing.
However, as we slowly progressed uphill, no voices broke the still air. The only sound was heavy breathing and, wait? What was that? An avalanche?
I looked toward Salkantay Peak and pointed with my hiking pole. My husband stopped and looked in the direction I was pointing.
“What do you see?” he asked.
As his question wasn’t of the yes or no variety I was unable to answer, having absolutely no spare breath to form words.
He seemed to catch on and followed up with, “An avalanche?”
To this I was able to actively respond with a nod of my head.
By the time we had paused a minute looking for the telltale puff of snow on the peak, I had regained my ability to speak and even pulled out my water bottle for a few gulps.
Looking ahead, I could actually see our destination—we were nearly at the pass—and with a final bit of focus and a couple dozen repetitions of my mantra, I indeed did have this and soon was happily basking in the sunshine at the top of the pass.
An Amazing Race- Grocery Style
“You ladies have been randomly chosen…” Was that man with the balloons talking to me? Was I in a grocery store or at Disney World?
My first visit to the new Stop and Shop was rather disconcerting with the amount of attention lavished upon all of the shoppers as we wandered the brightly shining aisles attempting to find a favorite brand of cocoa or dried apricots. Even before I entered the store, I was greeted not by one or even two friendly employees, but by a veritable cheering line—not much different than the finale of the reality show The Amazing Race without having raced around the world first. And like a race around the world, we had our own Passport—this one issued by Stop and Shop, not the United States government. In lieu of visiting exotic foreign destinations, we stopped by tables laden with carrots and ranch dressing or shrimp with cocktail sauce or fresh rotisserie chicken. At each station our passport was stamped in pursuit of the ultimate prize—a reusable grocery bag. We weren’t going to win a million dollars in this race, but then again we had only come to purchase a few groceries and see the new store.
I had brought in plastic bags to recycle and when I didn’t see a recycle bin by the entrance, I asked one of the freshly scrubbed employees where the plastic bags could be recycled. Before I even finished my question, she had efficiently extracted the bags from my grip and cheerily offered to deposit them for me. Guess I would have to wait for my next visit to find where the bin was hidden.
In every aisle a shining, smiling employee was posted to assist in all manner of needs—finding an item was only the beginning of the magic these grinning employees offered. It was as if I were in a distant country that was working hard to impress the recently arrived tourists. An employee nearly snatched the shopping list from a customer as she gazed across the endless rows of cereal boxes. I honestly thought he was going to fill up her shopping cart for her. As another bent down next to me, I checked to see if my shoe was untied. Turned out she was restocking the bottom shelf.
So it was with a sense of relief of having successfully navigated the gauntlet of supportive employees that I found myself at the checkout line, my purchases being pleasantly scanned by a smiling cashier. Then came the balloon man. Holding one yellow and one purple balloon, he approached us and happily informed us that we had been randomly selected as winners. We would receive $10 for every Stop and Shop brand item purchased. Seeing as I had only run into the store to pick up a handful of groceries, I knew I was not a million dollar winner. Fortunately, though two Stop and Shop brand items had made their way from my short list to the conveyor belt. Balloons aloft, the magical moment guide led us out to the front of the store to present us with Stop and Shop gift cards and gave us the two balloons. It wasn’t a million dollar check, and our balloon man hardly resembled Phil from The Amazing Race, but yet I still felt a sense of victory at having completed my own personal grocery store competition.
My first visit to the new Stop and Shop was rather disconcerting with the amount of attention lavished upon all of the shoppers as we wandered the brightly shining aisles attempting to find a favorite brand of cocoa or dried apricots. Even before I entered the store, I was greeted not by one or even two friendly employees, but by a veritable cheering line—not much different than the finale of the reality show The Amazing Race without having raced around the world first. And like a race around the world, we had our own Passport—this one issued by Stop and Shop, not the United States government. In lieu of visiting exotic foreign destinations, we stopped by tables laden with carrots and ranch dressing or shrimp with cocktail sauce or fresh rotisserie chicken. At each station our passport was stamped in pursuit of the ultimate prize—a reusable grocery bag. We weren’t going to win a million dollars in this race, but then again we had only come to purchase a few groceries and see the new store.
I had brought in plastic bags to recycle and when I didn’t see a recycle bin by the entrance, I asked one of the freshly scrubbed employees where the plastic bags could be recycled. Before I even finished my question, she had efficiently extracted the bags from my grip and cheerily offered to deposit them for me. Guess I would have to wait for my next visit to find where the bin was hidden.
In every aisle a shining, smiling employee was posted to assist in all manner of needs—finding an item was only the beginning of the magic these grinning employees offered. It was as if I were in a distant country that was working hard to impress the recently arrived tourists. An employee nearly snatched the shopping list from a customer as she gazed across the endless rows of cereal boxes. I honestly thought he was going to fill up her shopping cart for her. As another bent down next to me, I checked to see if my shoe was untied. Turned out she was restocking the bottom shelf.
So it was with a sense of relief of having successfully navigated the gauntlet of supportive employees that I found myself at the checkout line, my purchases being pleasantly scanned by a smiling cashier. Then came the balloon man. Holding one yellow and one purple balloon, he approached us and happily informed us that we had been randomly selected as winners. We would receive $10 for every Stop and Shop brand item purchased. Seeing as I had only run into the store to pick up a handful of groceries, I knew I was not a million dollar winner. Fortunately, though two Stop and Shop brand items had made their way from my short list to the conveyor belt. Balloons aloft, the magical moment guide led us out to the front of the store to present us with Stop and Shop gift cards and gave us the two balloons. It wasn’t a million dollar check, and our balloon man hardly resembled Phil from The Amazing Race, but yet I still felt a sense of victory at having completed my own personal grocery store competition.
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