Friday, April 10, 2009

Awful and Great

I met a new person yesterday, Justin Hackworth, who took pictures of my mom, my daughter, and me. He's pretty cool and interesting so I checked him out on Facebook--you know, like you do--and perused his blog. There are tons of photos to look at on his website which is, I suppose, not at all surprising. I clicked on the photos of his own two boys. The pictures are accompanied by simple captions which reminded me of how I felt about my children when they were little. I still have little children, but also bigger ones. They are in grade school. They can be cruel to each other and to me. Sometimes I am harsh and critical of them. Today in particular was a horrible day because I really tried to have fun with them. It's so much worse to try and fail than to not try at all, don't you think?

When I'm laying flat on my bed letting the covers puff up around me in hopes that my kids won't see me and will just go away and leave me alone I suppose there is some kind of subconscious thought that reassures me, "Yes, but if you WANTED to. . . if you had enough energy you would create and execute a scavenger hunt, shoot baskets, make homemade pizza and hello dollies for them and everything would be great!" Well, I did all of that today and it sucked. They fought. They sulked. They fell and got hurt and whined and threw fits. I was a sport and took the dog out into the creek with the kids and then I had to wash her off and she scratched me. I put cloth diapers on Ellen because she's allergic to disposables and she pooped all over and wiped it on the stairs. I should say, prior to that I got Spicy Cheetos for them as a prize for our basketball-shooting contest. Everything I did came back to bite me--including the Spicy Cheetos. It's so hard. It's tiring when they are little and you have to carry them everywhere and it's tiring when they're ages 2-11 and you have to do stuff like make dinner. And if Friday Night Lights is any indication of what it's going to be like when they are in high school, I'm not sure I can take it. It's awful. And it's also great. My kids are much better than most other kids and it is still awful and great.

When they are little, you wash them and dress them and they're just like little extensions of yourself. But by the time they are 11 they are totally separate. You never see them naked. Remember when you were 11? That's 6th grade, man. I know I still influence and take care of my son, but he's his own little dude. I was too. I rarely thought of myself as my mom's daughter even though I loved her. And yet I'm so hung up on my son still--what he wears, what he eats, who he's friends with, how he acts. Meanwhile I'm becoming more and more peripheral to him. It's OK though--on days like today I'm glad and can't wait for them to be gone--but it's not a very equitable relationship. And they'll never know until they have kids.

Look. Here's the photograph Justin took of me and my mom. I'm sure she agonized over me at times--you know, like you do--and I probably just blew her off. It almost seems like that even in this picture. I'm not even looking at her! I should be bowing down before her saying, "Thank you! Thank you for cleaning up the orange poop that leaked out of my cloth diaper onto the stairs after I ate those delicious Spicy Cheetos!" But I'm not. And I don't. And I probably won't. And my kids won't either.
Perhaps you are wondering, "What are hello dollies?" Well, you might know them as 7 layer bars. They have a graham cracker crust with nuts, chocolate chips, and coconut on top. My mom always made them for us and called them hello dollies. I love them. Do you know how I made them today? I looked up the recipe in a cookbook. That's right. Because I never helped my mom make them or paid any attention to how she made them. I've certainly never made any for her.

25 comments:

  1. I think you captured the frustrations and joys of parenting so well. It is 'great and awful' all rolled into one, but that is what makes it such a powerful experience. I'm glad you were able to give yourself the grace to write this post so truthfully. If only we could all give ourselves the same grace in telling our own stories.

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  2. I love this. Now, as a parent, I get chills more often when I read things like this. I used to get mad when my mom cried when things made her so happy she cried. (Where the Red Fern Grows did it every time). I get it now.

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  3. Yes, yes, yes. I ADORE my children, but sometimes I hide behind the piano so no one will talk to me. Just for a little while. Or an hour.

    And I didn't appreciate my mother either. At the time, I think I felt she didn't appreciate me either.

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  4. It's true.

    Every word.


    I should go call my mom.

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  5. Yeah. It's awful and great. And my mom even told me she thought I didn't like her (on my 20th birthday). I was like "what do you mean, you're my Mom!" Now I get it because I have a 15 yr. old.

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  6. I really needed to read this today. Thanks.

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  7. So, so true. Have you read this poem by Billy Collins about making a lanyard for his mom (a lanyard!)? This post reminds me of it...

    http://tinyurl.com/dae2zw

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  8. I loved this. I know exactly how you feel. Except for the part about older kids - but I can imagine how that will be.

    This was so real and true. And I have often thought about how hard it will be to watch my children pull away as my need for them remains the same. It's almost like He's Just Not that Into You - except "he" eventually had his own kids and comes back to mama for support!

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  9. I love this post- but I'm dying to hear more about Justin Hackworth (I admire him from afar). Was your session amazing? I bet it was. Let's see some more photos!

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  10. I'm not a great Mom. I would never play ball with my kids in a million years.

    They all think I poop a lot because I'm always in the bathroom with the fan on. I'm really just sitting in there looking at the internet, but it works for me.

    Your 11-year old could definitely make those 7 layer bars for you. My son loves to make those because there is almost no way to screw them up. My 10 year old loves to do stuff in the kitchen too. He made an entire casserole by himself last week, including browning the beef. He thinks its so cool. You need to get those kids cooking for you and then you'll like to have them around more!

    I still don't like my mom all that much, though.

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  11. Life and motherhood are like a circle of love and hate! I loved this post almost as much as I love hello dollies.

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  12. Was Justin Hackworth amazing? Sure. But please--everyone--remember, he's just a man.

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  13. I love that poem by Billy Collins. Thanks for the link, Annie. I made a lanyard at 5th grade camp. But we called it a boondoggle. And I kept it for myself.

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  14. I figure that is what the teen years are about...your kids are such jerks that any love you had for them is conveniently gone, just in time to kick them out to college.
    Your mom always made the best desserts. I stayed active in YW's just so I could eat what she brought.

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  15. I figure if my kids put up with THEIR kids someday, that will be thanks enough. =)

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  16. Just today I was feeling guilty because it seems like I spend most of my time during the day trying to get a break from my kids. So then I tried to manufacture fun and memories by coloring eggs... it ended in me screaming and them running to their rooms.

    Thanks for the post-- I needed it.

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  17. Love the picture. You are two very beautiful ladies!

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  18. Tremendous shot. Just look at those two shafts of light pouring into the room, explaining everything.

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  19. I prefer to remember mostly the good stuff - and I'm doing a pretty good job of suppressing the other stuff in my memory bank.

    Selective forgetting is how I survive!

    But your post and others like it sometimes dredge up a memory or two that I'm not proud of.

    But you're forgiven!!

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  20. I misread and thought you wrote "hello doilies". I love hello dollies, truly I do, but I also think something amusing could result from making "hello doilies" too.

    In conclusion, I hope you are not referring to those Flaming Hot Cheetohs.

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  21. I always feel guilty for what I didn't do with my kids while they were growing up---but I had to be the sole parent, as their Dad was AWOL---but thats another story...

    So---I try to just dwell on the little things that I CAN do---like great birthdays and Christmas's, and dressing up and good food ONCE in a while, and dancing, music, etc.

    You just keep hoping that THEY remember only those good things---and that the rest is a blur!

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  22. If there were an American Idol for personal essayists, you'd win. Every season. Ten years in a row. And Simon would stalk you and Paula would be a puddle everytime you walked into the room. And Randy would turn into a real dog that you'd then have to find a home for.

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  23. I can relate, we try and try and fail. It is endless at times, and yet I have never stopped in those defeated moments to say geez this might be what my mom felt. Thanks, your blog is a great reminder.
    Courtnee

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  24. I was going to try to say something clever, but why bother?

    A friend of mine doesn't have any children, and after I told a particular story of my little angels* she commented that maybe she's glad she doesn't have children. To which I said: "Oh, having children is great. Except for when it isn't." Much like you said here. Excep you said it better.

    *and by "angels" I mean "trolls".

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  25. Jim F.9:16 PM

    Great picture! I'm jealous.

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