As Thoughts Turn Towards Summer

It is hardly unusual for there to be tears on our family vacations. My children, clever and inventive in most aspects of life, once confined to a car can  think of no other way to pass the time beyond fighting. And I mean the type of fighting one would typically see inside a cage. So with forehead smashed against the window, I stare longingly at the ditch that runs alongside the highway and imagine myself  lying blissfully in its sweet half-pipe embrace, serenely staring up at the blue sky.  A homey culvert calling me in when the rain hits. All of it seemingly a reasonable alternative to where I am at the moment. So yes, those vacation tears are often mine.

Such was the case a few years back. Unusually though, these tears were not borne out of frustration or fatigue but of tiny, bittersweet moments. Bittersweet moments bookending our vacation, bittersweet moments of my youngest and eldest, fittingly, my bookend children.So it was on one of our first nights we found ourselves lying on the beach under a spectacular starry sky. The Milky Way and shooting stars and satellites all at the ready to ponder. I overhear a conversation between my youngest, perfect in the way all six year olds are, and my husband. Constellations are being considered. My six year old proudly points up to the sky to name the one constellation he knows,  "Old Ryan's Belt!" he exclaims. I smile and say nothing but I feel a need to reach out and stop the moment, to let him think the belt is Old Ryan's. For whatever reason I need to let him hold onto that, to hold onto something that, for whatever reason, keeps him 6 for just a moment longer. But "Orion's Belt" is mentioned. And my chance is lost. I look away and sadly consider, and there goes the first of a string of childhood imaginings that will fall away, one by one.

Our week at the beach winds down and on one of our last nights my mother falls down a flight of stairs. She is fine, the flight of stairs short, thickly carpeted. She is quickly up and on her way, gravity's look-at-me moment gone . But curiously I notice my oldest quietly crying in the corner, obviously shaken. It strikes me as odd as she is, at that age, as happy-go-lucky as they come, as it is with those with no experience with the  harsher aspects of life.  I walk over to her and quickly reassure her that Grandma is fine, just fine. She continues to cry and tells me, "but someday she won't be" and I pause, realizing another bit of something is lost. I hold back the tears and reassure her with the only words I have, "but she's fine right now, just fine".

And now, years later, Grandma is not just fine. She is horribly, unfairly unfine. There is no reaching out and stopping this moment, there is no soothing away this sadness. There is no protecting my children from this part of innocence lost and that is the hardest thing of all. They look to me for answers and explanations and I have none, not a one. All I know is some time this summer I will be staring up at the sublime night sky along the shores of Lake Michigan and the tears will come again. And again they'll be mine.

Oh, I know you may have been called the meanest mom in the world, but unless you're one of those driving-your-kids-into-the-lake-mean-moms , I've got you beat. How I know-



1. With my first child, and those adorable first three months with colic, I realized I knew not a single lullaby. Instead of simply learning a few soothing tunes I improvised and sang something from the AC/DC catalog in hushed tones when needed. It worked. All together now, "She was a fast machine...."

2. A well -placed lie causes me no dissonance. "No honey, the toy store is closed today, I'm so sorry", "You want a cell phone, cell phones cause brain cancer, are you seriously asking me to buy you a brain tumor?, what kind of mother would do that ?"

3. The Wiggles, Radio Disney, Hannah Montana? Not in my car, now Eminem, that's another story, we have bass-thumping sing-alongs (the volume gets turned down with every profanity, I'm mean, not crazy!).."Two trailer park girls go 'round the outside , c'mon Joey, take that bottle out of your mouth and sing, baby" You are never too young to learn to appreciate talent and a mighty wit.

4. I've never subscribed to a single parenting magazine, nope, not "Family-with-too-much-time-on-their-hands-Fun" or "Overparenting" or "Today's Helicopter Parent". The last thing I need is a monthly reminder of what a crap parent I am for not collecting my empty toilet paper rolls and building a DNA double helix out of them, or an (admittedly kick-ass) pair of spy binoculars.

5. I barely volunteer at school. It was five long years getting them out of the house, now what sane person would doggedly shadow them through their day. Now really.

6. I refuse to buy them a Pretendo WHEEEEE! , a Staystation, an X-cess weight Box, all of those require the child to be in the house. That's where I am. See #5.

7. I have no problem with interference. Please, feel free to parent my child. Go ahead, tell me what I am doing wrong. This comes not from any "it-takes-a-village"mentality but more likely, an "I'm-a-very-lazy-mom, the-more-you-do-the-less-I-have-to" mentality.

8. Eight o'clock is an all-purpose bed-time, even for a thirteen year old. Once eight o'clock hits I can put a DVD of "The Wire" in, pour a glass of wine for Daddy-O and me, and settle in. "I don't care if your friends go to bed at midnight, their parents don't love them like I love you" (wink and a nudge to Daddy-O).

9. All the experts say "NO IDLE THREATS" --oh, but the look of shock and shear terror on a young one's face when you let loose with a particularly creative one is certainly worth all the corrective behavioral therapy you may need in the future!! And it can be surprisingly effective in the short-term (at least until you leave the grocery store).

10. I have no issue with my children seeing my bad behavior. My rants at the morons deigning to share the road with me are only teaching them how to best vent frustration at having to share the planet with the 50% of humans residing along the lower half of the bell curve.

There are more to come but it is well past 8:00pm.......................Cheers!