Posted in Fragile Life, Insight, Mid-Life Mama, Milestone Moments, Teens

Two Paths Diverged

I was relieved to find myself awake at 3:00 am in order to realize that the tragedy of what I had enacted was only a dream.  But that didn’t help me shake the trauma.

After checking to make sure that my son was safely asleep in his bed, I reluctantly woke my husband to soften the burden of my nightmare.  Even now, it hurts to retell it.

We had pimped our younger son so that we could attend some affair. It was only a single time and we were paid well for it, but the anguish on my ten year old’s face afterward was heartbreaking; and when I put him in the shower to wash away the disgrace, he complained of a sharp pain that felt like a knife in his buttocks.

What were we thinking,” I hissed to my husband.  “We could go to jail.  How could we do something like this?”

Larionov,visipix.com

This is so far from any reality that my husband and I would ever create, but that doesn’t matter.  The dream was that strong.

No one needed to interpret this one.  We both knew what it meant, right away.  I had a job interview in the morning, and I was afraid of what this new position would mean for our family–particularly my younger son.

I finally drifted back into a troubled sleep around 5:00 am; this time dreaming of my teen.

I had returned home to see him, realizing that I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to connect; but no matter how I tried I couldn’t find him in the house.

There were escalators and staircases and doors, but just as I arrived to the place where he would be, his friends told me that I had missed him.  He had left in the time that it took me to get here.

Isn’t it convenient when our dreams are so transparent? Isn’t it terrifying when we realize just how deeply we our connected to our kids–and how fragile that connection can be?

The funny thing is that I’ve always worked.  I’ve just never found a position that might capture my heart and soul in a way that has me looking toward the future–without them.

This is the tenth post that I’ve written in ten days around the tectonic shifts this consideration has evoked in me.  All of these are posted on my Life Path series, but this post distinctly belonged here.

Gaugin, visipix.com

This post is about saying goodbye to one rich role in exchange for another.  It’s not a goodbye that will happen today or next week or even next year; but the seed has been planted and the roots are digging deep, and I’ve always known, that this love story, of mother and son, would some day diverge on different paths.

Kelly Salasin, November 2010

Click: TWO OWLS CALLING, for my blog on my personal path.

Posted in Insight, Mid-Life Mama, Teens

The Wisdom of Fatigue

“It’s amazing how much ‘mature wisdom’ resembles being too tired.”

– Robert Heinlein

Rippl-Ronai/detail visipix.com

Having helped raise 7 siblings, I find my parenting energy petering out before my first born is out of the house. This, I realize, can be a good thing.  At least today.

Today, I ask my son to develop a proposal for media use during the school year.  It shows great wisdom that I let him make the plan rather than offer it myself because he is a teen who needs more and more autonomy.

But the truth is that the wisdom of my initiative-building request came by default. I was too tired of devising policy and policing it so I asked him to do it instead.

Another brilliant idea was to ask him to draft this proposal in writing because we always seem to argue later about what we agreed upon.

But once again, the wisdom of this request stemmed  from my inability to remember as well as I once could, and my weariness of doing all the work around it myself.

Sometimes it seems like it was a bad idea to wait to have children until my thirties.  Given the developing science around a woman’s brain at mid-life, it may not be wise to have children in the home just as a woman’s internal programming shifts from sacrifice to self.

But then again, maybe it’s a perfect fit for a mother of teens.

Kelly Salasin, August 2010

Posted in Fragile Life, Insight, Mid-Life Mama, Milestone Moments, Sexuality, Teens

Cool Mom (NOT!)

While I generally do not wear my heart on my sleeve, I’m definitely not the “cool” mom that I thought I would be.

My own mother ran “cool.”  I only saw her flinch–twice.  The second time was when I went back to college after Christmas break.   She stood there on the lawn with my young sisters in each hand.  I think she might have been crying.  Maybe it wasn’t about me.  Maybe she wanted to leave too.

My own son just finished his freshman year–at high school.  All along, I’ve enjoyed witnessing his growth–even those terrible twos–and even the turbulent tweens (most of the time.)

Modersohn (visipix.com)

As an added bonus to each new stage of his development is my gain of greater independence. (That’s a good thing for a mom who needs lots of time for thinking her own thoughts.)

But even an independence-loving mom like myself isn’t immune to the pangs of separation. Even if my brain says that it’s a beautiful thing to watch my son grow up, my body has its own interpretation–and my body apparently doesn’t know how to play it “cool.”

Boecklin/detail/visipix.com)

Like the other night when I witnessed my 15 year old move in toward a girl for the first time.

She was seated on a chair, and he sat down on the arm beside her–and then, (and this part was in slow motion) I watched him tilt his shoulder toward hers so that their bodies brushed as his arm dropped alongside her back.

This physical expression of affection blossomed from innocent days of swimming and tennis and talking (and in between, Facebooking.)  It was a nice thing.  It was sweet.  It was good.

Then why did my spine recoil?  Why did my face contort? Why did my breath catch?  And why did I so transparently shudder, turning away to steady myself, that I caught the attention of her uncle who observed my whole internal drama which was meant to be private?

Schiele (visipix.com)

Not “cool.”  Not cool at all.

And now I understand:

The mind, in its linear fashion, can appreciate change–but the body is timeless inside.

That 15 year old young man is still the baby that grew within, and the infant who suckled at my breast, and the boy who held my hand and beamed up at my eyes–promising to live with me forever.

This folding of time makes me dizzy.

Dizzy and transparent.

And that’s so not cool.

Kelly Salasin