Mom in the Mirror

LifeFiles #2

Here's another bunch of columns:

To all mothers, male and female

Dog lovers meet cat woman

A bittersweet birthday

Me & my Sidekick

Gambling on life

LifeFiles #1

I'm in the process of moving my previously-published columns to this blog. Here's the first group:

Refusing help a weakness, not a strength

Marking time or making a mark?

Reuniting with my younger self

An affair to forgive?

In the works

I'm working on two longer pieces right now and would love your thoughts. The first is on couples: why is one partner almost always more interesting than the other? The second is a column on tips for the newly-engaged: what makes a marriage work? (I'm looking for humor as well as truth.) Please share your thoughts in the comments area. Meanwhile, for today's insights on parenting, check out: daddy blog, being daddy, blog daddy, java mommy, and moody mama.

Flipping over girls

Colter has managed to convince Gary that he is to blame for Colter flipping a girl (who was wearing a cast, by the way!) at "walk and talk" yesterday. It turns out that when Colter got a yellow last week for running at "walk and talk," he was running away from this girl. So, Gary told him not to run. Yesterday, instead of running (which he knew would get him in trouble), Colter flipped her body onto the ground. Definitively proving that kids understand school culture, Colter was right. He didn't get a yellow! His teacher still gave him a green, and didn't send home his agenda because she didn't finish writing a note to us about the incident (a lot of good it'll do us tonight). At least one of us is now the wiser. Gary's advice to Colter this morning about what to do when someone's bothering him: Find an adult. Sometimes I think Colter is 45 and Gary is 7.

The Eye of God

Colter's been going to temple since he was 2 or 3 and to religious school since he was 4. He loves the music and being Jewish, so it's not uncommon for him to talk about God. Tonight, we went for a late swim and shortly after Gary agreed to go get us a dozen fresh Krispy Kreme donuts (original, glazed with chocolate and sprinkles), Colter said we needed to go in because there was a dark cloud headed our way. As we were walking back to the apartment, he started telling me that the cloud was "Dark God" who was angry. After we established that there was just one God (that contained darkness, light and all shades of gray), I asked Colter what he thought made God angry.

He said, "When people chop down trees, because trees are God."

I said, "Do you mean that all of nature is part of God?"

"Yes," he said. "We're all part of God. I'm God's eye. You're his other eye."

If only I could see so clearly.

Do your kids talk about God? What do they say?

It costs a village...

If you're a parent who hasn't seen the current double issue (8/18/03 & 8/25/03) of "The New Yorker," you must. There are a host of interesting pieces in this special family issue. My favorite, so far, is "Leave no Parent Behind" which deconstructs why "having a child is now the best indicator of whether someone will end up in 'financial collapse.'" The most significant contributing factors are the cost of housing (bidding wars for the best neighborhoods with the best public schools) and education (college tuition). The kicker: "It may not take a village to raise a child, but these days it seems to take a village to pay for one."

The best sandwich ever

The best bologna sandwich I ever had was the one Gary brought me a few hours after Colter was born. Labor had lasted about 17 hours once we were at the hospital, and shortly after it resulted in a beautiful baby boy I released my parents and husband to go get a nice dinner at one of our favorite restaurants. I stayed behind, of course, to be dinner for our newborn. When Gary returned to spend the night on a cot next to my hospital bed, he brought me a bologna sandwich on white bread with mayonnaise (and for dessert, a piece of chocolate cake). That was the best meal I've ever had. We've had more elegant ones, more elaborate and expensive ones. But nothing that was better suited to the occasion and my new feelings of comfort and softness.

Today's lunch was a distant second. We had been swimming at the pool when Colter suddenly wanted a snack. I walked back to the apartment and got him some Cheez-Its and Capri Sun. A few minutes later, he wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Gary walked back to the apartment, made him one, and brought it to the pool. Then, I wanted a peanut butter sandwich. When Colter wanted seconds, Gary brought each of us what we wanted. The sweet and salty mushiness was perfect in the hot sun (along with a root beer), but it was my husband's sweet and saltiness that made the meal.

Peeing in private

When is it time to stop letting my son see me naked? When he suddenly wants to. Today, I was in my bedroom changing into my bathing suit so we could go for an afternoon swim, when Colter came in the room. He looked absolutely giddy about having walked in on me with a naked chest. I quickly covered it up and headed to the bathroom to change in private, with some help from my husband. Colter did his best to persuade us that it was ok for him to see, which is how I knew, after 7 years, that it wasn't. Frankly, I don't think he'd ever noticed my nakedness before or cared. The fact that he did was a definite sign. And it was the end of a new double standard. A week earlier, I was washing my face when he came in the bathroom and said, "Get out." After all those years of wiping his ass, and oohing and aaahing over every potty accomplishment, he suddenly wanted privacy to pee. I can only hope he'll finally extend me the same courtesy.

What color was your day?

For the second day in a row, Colter had a "yellow day" at school, which means that he did something that required a warning. The kids all start out at green every morning (think stoplight), then move their cards to yellow if they do something objectionable. From yellow they move to red, then orange, then black (think mourning). Yesterday, Colter's card was moved to yellow for talking when he should have been quiet. Today, he was running during "walk and talk," which is the recess that follows lunch. Imagine that, a kid wanting to run around outside. So, he got a yellow, plus he doesn't get to go outside for "walk and talk" for the next three days. I'm a huge believer in education, but not in schools.

Repeat after me: Life sucks

Frederick Busch's short story "The Talking Cure" begins: "Love is unspeakable." In our marriage, that's exactly right. The love is in the silences.

When my husband, Gary, is upset, he wants me to say, "Life sucks," then move on. But, I prefer to dwell on discomfort. I want to verbally poke and prod – probing emotions gently but firmly.

It’s unnatural for me to leave anything unexplored, even -- especially -- someone else’s misery; then, the play-by-play analysis has all the additional thrills of a spectator sport.

This difference in our styles is more obvious now than ever, because I’ve been afraid Gary has been suffering silently since we moved, eight months ago, away from his family and friends.

Here’s the pattern: I push him to tell me how he feels. He says “I’m fine” or “Life sucks,” and that’s all.

To Gary, the talking cure is worse than the sickness. Detailing the downside of every disaster only deepens the damage. Instead, he finds it therapeutic to watch TV, play solitaire, do anything but categorize and catalog his feelings so I can inventory them later.

So is he right or am I? It turns out we both are.

While there is some scientific validity to the idea that the truth shall set you free, the liberation isn’t in the power of the words you share, it’s in the power of the bond you create by sharing them.

According to one website, “Therapy has often been called the ‘talking cure,’ since the exchange of words between the client and therapist can appear to be the most obvious form of communication that is going on. In reality, therapy can offer a much richer experience than the simple exchange of words and advice. The thoughts and feelings you share and the professional techniques the therapist uses are not nearly as important as the relationship you build together.”

And so it is for the less formal techniques used by spouses. If it makes me feel better -- more grounded, able to take the long view or discover another perspective -- to talk, then it works for our marriage. And if Gary is done after a cursory review of the facts, then that’s OK too.

When things aren’t going the way he hopes, Gary wants only to feel he has an ally. A simple nod, and my silence, assures him that I’m on his side and can see the world through his eyes. And sometimes, it sucks.

I’ve learned from him that a little understanding does indeed go a long way, and that sometimes it’s better to just hold my tongue and hold his hand.

This LifeFiles column originally appeared on about 70 TV station websites managed by Internet Broadcasting Systems.