Raising Jack

Raising Jack:

He bounded into the house on Saturday morning filled with glee, “Mom, Mom, Mom! Look what I got from Diane’s garage sale!” Without a hint of any self-consciousness he proudly and carefully laid out his dollar and 2 dollar purchases and treasures from the free bin. His treasures included: cat-style reading glasses (sadly without rhinestones), a Mary Kay make-up mirror with case, a black velvet spaghetti strap cocktail dress and a pair of black slide mule medium heels. He immediately disrobed and slipped the dress on and was a tad disappointed to see that the straps were too long and needed to be shortened in order to make it a perfect fit. The begging for instant alterations commenced. I promised to fix it and his smile returned. Jack has worn the shoes every day since getting them at the garage sale and asks me is the dress done yet?

As a Mom I am torn.  I am so happy and so proud that Jack has the confidence and courage to be who he is. He is my Jack, my wild imagination boy who has always preferred girl toys and dress up. I am also grateful that he knows he is loved and perfect just the way he is and is safe. I have done my job giving him personal security, love and support. What worries me is how others will see my sweet, highly imaginative, intelligent and creative child. Jack knows he is different. He is no fool to criticism and stings from others that do not accept him for Jack. Even at the tender age of 10, he has to check the crowd before he speaks and this breaks my heart. I am so saddened by the lack of support and understanding and the narrow-minded people that believe it is okay to pass judgment so freely on my son and myself.  

Jack is who he is. He has always been Jack, always will be and was born with a gifted mind and engaging personality. He is talented, bright and true gift to our family as all children are to their parents and families. Raising gay, lesbian or transgendered children today is by far a much easier job than in years past. Many people are more accepting and can offer insight helping us as parents raise confident, caring, productive, and happy members of society. Even with all the advancements, it is still a heart wrenching process. I struggle with worry about Jack being accepted and finding love and a partner more than I do about my other son who is straight. I want the same things for both my wonderful boys but know Jack’s road although easier than in years past will be harder. He will face scorn, bullying and teasing at a higher rate than my eldest. He will be a target at school just for who he is and will face a higher chance of depression and suicide rate in his coming years. He will be the object of hate and distain from overtly religious groups including our own church and faith. He will be faced with legal issues for partnerships his married brother will not have to face. His life at 10 is already different and a bit lonelier than his older brother. He at 10 has been the object of hate, threats, bullying and the object of ridicule and distain from his classmates, teachers and from his own grandparents. He already although loved by my Mother has been ridiculed for his choices of clothing, toys or Disney movies to watch. When he tries to show his Grammy something he thinks is wonderful but highly feminine she will with her words be supportive but with her facial expression be somewhat filled with distain and a bit disgusted. He notices and feels the rejection and I can see the hurt in his eyes. Believe it or not she has come a long way. In the beginning she accused me of being too accepting and being a bad mother because I needed to remove or discourage any thing feminine with him and change him.   (this is another blog for another day I digress )

So as I struggle to be a better parent, teacher and member of the society, I make this wish in the vapors of the blogosphere. Be kind, be aware and remember judge not least you be judged because it is from loving and acceptance in others we find love and acceptance for our own self. How you treat others is a reflection of what you think about yourself.

Am I a better parent?

Am I a better parent?

I guess I believed with each generation we gain more experience and education. Learning from our collective past is supposed to be an evolutionary advantage of our species. This I hope has lead me to a deeper and more enlightened parenting style. I can dream. I hear stories from my Mom how she was treated as a child and how my Gram was treated and how my Great grandmother sacrificed all for her son’s future and I wonder am I doing the best I can?

When my Mom was growing up she dreamed of college and being more. My Gram worked hard and raised my Mom to have confidence and educated her at good private schools for elementary and high school. When it came time for my Mom to go to college she was accepted into a wonderful Catholic College called Mundelein in Chicago. She worked hard for a years to afford the tuition and put every cent she made into a savings account. Being the trusting daughter and needing a second name on the account she placed her mother’s name on her account. She was filled with hope and promise for her bright future. She heard stories from her Grandmother Anna of how Anna had been hand picked by a local doctor to be a nurse but her parents pulled her out of school and said that she was needed to be the cook for all the farm hands and the family. Anna’s hopes of a less subservient life were dashed and she never graduated from High School and was trapped. She instilled in my mother the desire to educate one’s self. 

When the time came to enroll for classes, she filled out the forms and quit her position at the Johnson and Johnson factory where she measured the circumferences of cotton balls monitoring quality control and the machines. This must have been a mind-numbing task. First day of classes rolled around and she got her text books, paid the first installment of the tuition with her hard earned saving and set off for a new path and a bright future. Classes exceeded her hopes. New doors were being opened everyday for this blue-collar working class woman. She would not only be the first woman to graduate from High School but the first woman to graduate from College. All the new ideas and knowledge not only fed her mind but her soul. She loved learning and still does. After the first month, the second installment of her tuition was due. She went to the bank to get the money and was horrified by the sight of her account balance. Apparently her mother went to the bank and cleaned out the account except for a measly 10 dollars required to keep the account open. Panic filled her heart. How was she going to pay for school and how could her mother do this?

Scared and confused she retuned home and confronted her mother with the passbook. My Gram a good woman on many levels but a selfish small person on more, responded with indignation. “Why are you angry? You live in this house rent-free, eat my food and have for 18 years. It is only fair you contribute. I needed the money and my name was on the account.” My Mother was shocked and dumbstruck by the cold calculation dash to her dreams of a better future. Then the final blow which still stings her today, my Gram delivered the final stake in her heart, “You are probably going to just get married and have kids and stay home anyway, what do you need a college education for? What!?! You think you are better than me?”

My Mother was wounded beyond belief. Not only did her mother not believe in her enough to ask her for the money, which she would have given open heart if it was needed, but her Mother was in competition with her and thought by educating her daughter beyond her, she would somehow disintegrate her own self worth. It was a devastating blow to my mother who continued to attend classes until the administration had to pull her out of one of her classes and ask her to leave since she could no longer afford the tuition. I asked my Mother why she did not explain it to the monks and ask for assistance, she told me she was too embarrassed by her poverty and betrayal of her mother.

My Mother did after some hard work and odd jobs and transfer to 2 more colleges manage to get her bachelors degree and become a teacher. Yes, she did get married and stay home to have 6 kids and raise us all to become productive members of society but most importantly she taught all of us that an education is a valuable asset to have and no matter what the road blocks. She instilled the desire to fight for your dream. They may betray you, leave you, take your job/money and your house but no one can ever remove a good education from your heart and soul.

This story haunts me as a parent and I use this lesson and story sometimes to my own detriment. I may sacrifice a bit of my own self for the hopes and dreams of my children but in a completely stage mom way I love watching both of them soar higher and shine brighter than I ever could.

Boy I need a joke!

Okay so after the somewhat more serious notes I have written lately I am feeling the need for a joke. I feel like the grandfather in the movie "Moonstruck" when he is sitting at the table and everyone is gathered waiting for the return of Johnny Cammareri and says, "Someone tell a joke." 


So in true Irish form,  let's have a drink and tell a joke about it... here goes with a Joke story. (I don't as you will find, do jokes but stories. Hey I'm Irish and a bit of a black hearted poet. )


When I was graduating from college in 1985 my Mom threw a massive party for family and friends in our basement. In true form of a Chicago basement, we had a bar area and a game area. My Grandma Bernice was a real character. She was until her death a true believer that if she came to this earth with dark brown hair she was aiming to keep it no matter who it looks on an 85 year old. She believed in her classic red lips and red nails. She was a tough woman who buried three husbands, smoked for 60 years and liked her drink like her men strong and with not a whole lot of fuss. She did however love her manhattans. So as she was known to do she parked herself with one of the other Grandmas at the bar and settled in for a long evening of drink, cigarettes and chat. My friend Todd was our bartender for the evening and was making the drinks fast and furious for all the guests including Gram and Mrs. O'Brien. My Dad came over to the bar area and pulled Todd aside under the guise of getting more wine and informed him Gram was meeting her limit of 5 manhattans and maybe he should try to quietly and cautiously cut her drinks with a little cherry juice. Now Todd was and is a marvelous bartender with skills, so when he cut her manhattans we had all thought she had not noticed  since she did not immediately send it back. After she polished off the altered drink,  she put the empty glass back toward Todd who walked back to her and she placed her arthritic hand on his and said, "Well sweetie that was a great drink but next time a little less cherry juice and more whiskey." His mouth dropped and quickly made her next drink to order. 


Todd had mad bartender skills but Gram had mad drinking skills. She was to say the least a true character. They do not make them like Bernice anymore. 

,

Zen life moment in a sea of Choas

I wrote this 3 years ago after I attended my first "band concert"for my son Tom. My day today was very similar to this same day 3 years ago. Tonight he is performing in the Jazz band and concert band after a terrible bout of the stomach flu over the last 2 days. The show must go on. So here is to my wonderful 15 year old developing musician. Break a leg.

Okay so I survived the 7th grade band concert. There are times in your life that are true Zen in the moment kind of episodes. Last night was one of them.

Typical rat race kind of day, whiny kids in the am, sick coughing hacking spouse, work stress  and then…

the end of the day shuffle begins…

(Tap to any square dance music.)

Pack up the office

make the calls

pick up the kids

pacify the kids

make the supper

check on the kids and homework

(refrain: )

gather the spawn

pacify the spawn

pacify the husband

run circles around the mommy.

Feed the dog

Feed the spawn

Feed the Hubby

Clean up the dishes

Start a load of laundry

Ready the troops for outing. (repeat refrain)

gather the spawn

pacify the spawn

pacify the husband

run circles around the mommy.

Okay so the Zen moment after the running of the day. I sat for the first time in the evening. There I sat in a school auditorium and saw my 12 year old enter the stage right sit down and play the cornet. His adolescent long fingers moved seamless over the instrument. The music was like millions of other band concerts around the world uneven but filled with pride and earnest abilities. He was focused and looked good and more importantly sounded good. I had a self-realization. This was my kid. My spawn. If I had done anything I did this good thing. I was there. I was tired Mom watching her child perform in his first real band concert, I was in the moment. Nothing else mattered: the other spawn fidgeting next to me, the coughing hacking anxiety riddled spouse, the job, the dirty house, the bills, the bad choices in my life and the good ones. It was all here, all now focused on my curly haired little man who is now my curly haired bigger little man. To me this boy will forever be the little naked baby running through the house with his cowboy boots and Stetson. Tonight though he was my star, my reason for being and my joy and my true life Zen moment.

I am the Axis and it is killing my back.

Atlas Farnase: Museo Archeologico Nazionale in Naples, Italy

So I have been meaning to do this for sometime now and have to say I have taken advantage of staying home with a sick son to begin my what I hope is a daily activity.

So my ramblings for the day ... mom spotlight.

Much of my days I realize I am not the center of the universe but I am an integral part of my universe. I found this out this week in 2 major ways.

Example 1:

Background givens: I am the time keeper and the gatekeeper of all that happens in this house for the most part. I have sadly enabled my husband 2 boys and my students.

I have always been under the assumption (some say delusion) that if I am hit by a truck some how the males in my house and my students could cope and get the basic daily things accomplished. WRONG! This Tuesday I had to be in the classroom to prep a huge lab I was teaching so off I went after I tried to wake the sleeping family before 7am. I fed the dog, laid out clothes for the youngest and went to school with a sinking feeling something was going to go wrong and no one would get out of bed without the Motherly nagging. Well I was 1/2 right. Somehow my youngest got up; bless his sweet little Jackie heart and got his dad to take him to school. Sadly the 15 year old was not so lucky. While I finally sat down after prepping the lab in the classroom at 9 am I decided to call the 15 year old to make sure he was walking to school for the late arrival day. His voice told the whole story. His groggy stunned, "Hello" instantly clued me into this was not his are you walking to school call but his wake up call. Nice! Apparently his dad just thought the lump of covers in his bed were just a lump and he was already at school so while he blissfully read his papers on the sofa drinking his coffee he was unaware of the slumbering teen who will either have to use light speed to make it on time to school or be late and end up with a detention. Happy end ... the 15 year old has superpower light speed and made his stunned father drive him at warp speed to school.

example 2: My sweet Jackie greeted my on Thursday morning before 6 am with the dreaded phrase that sends chills into a mother's soul, "I don't feel good, Mom, my stomach feels weird..." As I rush him into the bathroom removing the thermometer with the speed of a Ninja the stomach acid bile reverse mechanism we all know and dread kicks into gear. After cleaning up (I'll save the details to your imagination) I had to kick into super speed. Not only do I have to call in sick to work but since I am a teacher I have to make sure my 125 students have something to do so they are not wandering the halls of the high school causing chaos without my supervision. I hand the mantle and lysol to my second in command the hubby and drive to school before 6:30am. I make plans and set up for the substitute in record time and make it back home in time to help Jack one more time.

So lesson learned from the last week just in case I do get hit by the Mack Truck/Bus or Lightening. I better make back up lesson plans for the classroom and have it on my desk in an in case of emergency break glass case and buy the boys their own alarm clocks and show them how to program it. Also and most importantly maybe for short periods my little universe does revolve around me but I am the axis on which it pivots.