My Mother, My Best Friend

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From An Adult Daughter’s Perspective . . . Part I

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My mother, Helen

Whenever I hear so-called parenting “experts” parrot the opinion-du-jour regarding child rearing, my ears prick up -I have to stop and listen – to see if their profound advice matches my experience. I do this purely for entertainment purposes now that my two children are “off-the-teet and out the door” making their own way in this crazy world.

Dr. Phil often advises parents of troubled teens that they can not be their children’s best friends and their parents too. Obviously, this advice is situational and mainly targeted to those parents who lack basic parenting skills and have kids who are out of control. But way too often, that advice is taken out of context  by other child psychologists – relayed as a blanket statement – and the message people hear is black and white. “Parents, you should NEVER attempt to be your child’s best friend.”

Upon hearing this …my blood pressure goes up and the little hairs on the back of my neck rise up in protest! My visceral   reaction to this kind of one-size-fits-all psycho-speak is because – not only was my mother my parent and boundary setter, she was definitely my best friend. In fact, not only was she my best friend, but also the trusted confidant of many of my friends (unusual, I know). So, I surmise – perhaps, it is the child psychologist’s use and definition of the word “friend” that is lost in translation, when they actually mean buddy or pal. Truly, we all know  – as adults who have survived adolescence and beyond – a buddy is most definitely not always a friend.

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One of our few pictures together, I was 9

Since I lost my mom to cancer when I was only 19 years old, I have to do a bit of exploring to understand how she was able to accomplish that delicate balance. What I discovered upon delving into my earliest memories, was it was “safe” to tell my mother anything without fear of retribution, judgement or even worse….the brush-off. When I was only eight years old, a 13-year-old big sister of my neighborhood pal decided it was her duty to tell me all about the birds and bees (childhood equivalent of an earthquake). In shock and horror I ran home, tears streaming down my face and questioned my mom…”mommy is it true..is it true..is that how babies are made?” She sat me down and calmly explained, that was indeed how I was created, but (as she always did) she retold the story with tender precision, educating me with the proper medical terminology and context for which sex would be appropriate. Her answer both comforted me and helped me store that bit of info away for another day – just like that I was back outside riding my bicycle without a care in the world (…well maybe a few “aftershocks” of …gross..really? come on).

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Her last picture taken, just a few months before she passed away

The impromptu sex-ed talk would lead to many more provocative discussions between my mom and I over the next decade. Each confidential conversation sealed more deeply, my confidence in her wisdom as a parent and her “I’m here for you under any circumstances” attitude. She had been there..she had done that…she had inherent wisdom to share with me on the subject that my teenage girlfriends were clueless about. She listened without making me feel stupid for asking “silly” questions, she encouraged me to trust my own instincts and learn how to trust my gut in confusing situations, she loved me unconditionally.  Thank you Mom, for preparing me for the toughest job in life. I miss you today and every day.

I Got A New “Gratitude”

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My cup runneth over . . .

Today I woke up in a soft bed in a room heated to the perfect temperature. I walked down my front staircase into a beautiful and spacious kitchen and hit a button on a Kreurig coffee maker which delivered me a hot cup of gourmet coffee in less than a minute. As I sipped my coffee, I soaked up my surroundings beyond the portals of my eyes into my satisfied soul. My heart swelled with gratitude. I said “thank you” in my mind to whoever might be listening to my thoughts. Then I took it one step further.

My husband joined me on the couch to enjoy our morning coffee. He placed his hand over my knees. I reached out and took his hand in mine and began to share what I was enjoying in the moment. First, I pointed out all the beautiful material things surrounding us that make our daily lives more comfortable and enjoyable…the grand piano, the painting of Portifino above the hearth, the vaulted foyer with sunlight streaming through the windows. He agreed we were truly blessed. “Yes, we are blessed,” I said. “But what I really want you to know is how thankful I am for you and how hard you work to provide for all of us. I know how demanding your job can be and I just don’t want you to think I take it or you for granted.” His voice filled with emotion.

“You have NO idea how much that means to me for you to say that,” he said. “I certainly don’t get that kind of feedback in my job..if anything, the opposite. My daily life is filled with contentiousness – dealing with customers, pissed off employees, pressures from all sides…some days I feel like I’m just getting pummeled by the world. You telling me thank you is like an emotional oasis – a place of solace where I can just relax and enjoy the sunshine and be peaceful.” And..”you’re welcome,” he says with a smile.

It was such a simple thing, so little in the grand scheme of things, but yet made such a huge impact on my husband’s psyche. I guess the “thank you’s” for the big things are expected, but not always that special. What I learned is that expressing gratitude to someone for what they do and who they are shows you are paying attention. I’m so happy I chose to speak my mind. ♥

Fruit Avatars for Friends?

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A Humorous Look at Personality Types

Somebody once said, “one can never have too many friends,” and generally speaking, I suppose that’s a pretty true sentiment. However, if you are like me, I tend to throw the word “friend” around rather loosely. After one brief encounter with someone, I tend to say ..”oh, ya I know Pam, she’s a friend of mine.” Most likely I bestow that label on mere acquaintances simply because I am a people person.

After a recent brush-off from someone I had spent considerable amount of time with (and I considered a close friend), I had a weird epiphany while introspectively having a stare down with the fruit bowl. It occurred to me that friends, like fruits, come in many shapes and sizes each possessing unique flavorful characteristics and diversity of appeal. Some are thick-skinned and can take anything you have to say, while others, like the banana, bruise at the mere touching of their sensitive egos. Some lose their initial attraction after a few days and other’s have a shelf life which will endure throughout a lifetime. Thus, the assigning of Friend Fruit Avatars began.

Fuzzy and warm, too kind for words, the peach is just soooooo sweet. Everyone knows a peach. Peaches never call you by your name, you are “sweetie” or “honey” or maybe even “sugar.” Conversation might center around such earth-shaking issues as which laundry detergent leaves your underwear smelling the freshest or a new fangled way to make chocolate chip cookies freshly torn from the most recent issue of Woman’s Day magazine. Try telling a peach about a problem you are experiencing with your job, husband or kids and you’ll find the subject quickly changed to something with lighter appeal. In fact, mid-sentence about your woes, be prepared to see a glazed eye response like . . .”uh huh…I see..well then…guess what, I just heard on Dr. Oz that hydrogen peroxide makes the greatest astringent!”  Peaches are awesome when you are in a happy-go-lucky mood, but don’t call on them when you are seeking deep soul-to-soul interaction. That superficial fuzz may leave you in the “pits.”

Next there is the beautiful orange. These friends are packed with juicy information about who is doing what with whom – and where and why – the doing has been done. Who cares if this unsolicited information is based on facts, oranges were born to make juice and they will invent it when there is no pulp left to squeeze.  So, be careful how much time you spend sharing your intimate thoughts with this friend, unless of course, you don’t mind your secrets being poured out over brunch tomorrow. Oranges are certainly delicious once in a while, but remember — their content is the main ingredient for a screwdriver!

Persimmons pack a punch. These are the ones that are so tempting to be around – they are fun and vivacious, constantly on the go, kinetic social party animals. However, if you wish to enjoy the persimmon’s company anytime in the near future, you will have to call way ahead so you can be pencilled in between the extremely important pedicure and the ‘no way I can miss it’ neighborhood game of Bunco. Somewhere down the road, after excitement wears off and you have gotten underneath the thin- skinnned pleasantries, you may come across a predictable “my time is more important than anything else” attitude that will probably leave an extremely bitter taste in your mouth. Several times puckered, you’ll most likely decide to leave these little dandies for less discerning taste buds.

One of the nicest surprises in fruitful bonding is that prickly looking fellow…the pineapple. At first glance, it is hard to believe that you and the pineapple could have anything in common.  But, don’t be too quick to judge. I have found that those sharp edges or politically incorrect social tendencies, are merely a rough covering for something truly wonderful.  Forget about first impressions (pineapples certainly do) and take the time to develop a deeper relationship. I love pineapples because they are loyal, and honest, willing to tell you the harsh truth in a sweet, sensitive way. Once you have acquired a taste for this tropical treat..you’ll be pals forever.

Lastly, I give you the red shiny apple.  You’ve heard “an apple a day helps keep the doctor away,” well that doesn’t just apply to your family doctor. If you are so lucky as to have an apple friend, you probably won’t have to spend too much time in a therapist’s office. Apples are long on love, short on judgementalism, avid listeners,  lifelong “solid to the core” friends. With an apple, what you see on the outside is just as palatable and delicious as the inside. Without apples in our lives, we might never know the true meaning of unconditional love. Just think, the All American  saying would go ..”baseball, hot dogs, and lemon meringue pie?” Stevie Wonder would sing, “you are the grapefruit of my eye…yeah…” See what I mean? Apples just seem to make rhyme and reason out of everything!

I Hope You Laugh

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No doubt we are all familiar with the old adage “laughter is the best medicine.”  After 31 years of waking up next to my chosen one, I have also come to recognize laughter as one of the key ingredients for keeping the love flame burning.  In fact for me, I would say laughter is the oil in my lamp of love (corny I know.)

As Scott Peck provocatively stated in the first line of his New York Times Best Seller “The Road Less Traveled” …Life is difficult.  It only stands to reason that included under the stormy sky of life – lies the often tumultuous shifting sands of love.  Sometimes when the whole “relationship thing” feels like one big sink hole, the best thing you can do is literally laugh your butt off.

So, you ask, “am I just up shizola creek without a paddle” if my partner has the sense of humor of a tree stump?  I think not! Everyone has a funny bone, some people just have theirs buried under layers of other “not so adorable” personality traits. Get creative and go on a discovery mission. Your lover may not moon you in the middle of the day just to get you to laugh, but he may sit and laugh at a rerun of Seinfeld or an episode of Modern Family. The point is, I think in order to keep our love life vibrant, we need to find ways to laugh together — even if you have to sit and watch Airplane the Movie for the 25th time and feign laughter at “what’s your vector Victor?”

Comments welcome..funny preferred.

New Beginnings

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It is the beginning of a new year, which brings a sense of renewal, reflection and of course,   resolutions involving personal change, commitments and conquests. For years, friends have requested that my husband and I write a book about relationships — mainly because they have observed that not only are we “still” married after 30 years but we actually still “like” each other — and tend to behave a lot like infatuated newlyweds.

LuvYa.com presents the perfect forum to share the little nuggets of wisdom we have collected along our life’s path, as well as to create a community where all can share from their life experiences.

My hope is that my few little drops of water from my heart’s wellspring, will inspire a river of life’s lessons which will lead us all to a better understanding of the vast ocean we call “life.”

Love, Romance and Horse Sense

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My lovely friend Janet, who also happens to be my (much needed) editor for LuvYa.com, shared this wonderful love essay with me. Fortunately, she is allowing me to share it with you – my beloved LuvYa.com readers. I found it to be honest, uplifting, inspiring and heart-warming.  Enjoy!!

Romantic? Gestures

When I was young, romance was Fred Astaire dancing with Ginger Rogers or Roy Rogers riding alongside and singing to Dale Evans. It was moonlig207572_1896088275496_5939561_n[1]ht and stars, music and grand gestures by the boy. Once I was older and married, this mental image didn’t translate into my life of working and raising a child. Like many others I’m sure, I became frustrated that these kinds of things weren’t happening in my married life. Luckily, I realized that frustration borne of romantic images was no way to produce a long and happy marriage, and I started to look for actions that I could “translate” into romantic moves. His closing closet doors became high on my list of romantic offerings from my husband – and, because those “translations” were of my own creation, I found myself very satisfied, romantically–speaking. It became easier and easier to see romance in what might otherwise have been mundane daily activities.

Dog, Horse . .Husband

We are now closing in on 44 years of marriage. So what’s left to consider romantic after all this time? Depending on how you care to look at it, quite a lot. For the past nine years, we have lived on a small farm of our creation to provide a home for ourselves, t380211_3832591526867_843807401_n[1]wo horses and a dog. A lot of work (and money) goes into caring for just two horses: hay to buy and stack, stalls and pastures to keep clean, spur of the moment trips that cannot be taken. When you are the “horse person” and your husband is not, his major indulgences in your passion are so much more romantic than flowers or candlelit meals. It’s 365 days a year times nine years of accommodating your need to be the best horse “mom” there is. That translates into being third in line for dinner (first the dog and then the horses and then the husband) even though he’s the cook most nights. It means driving the horse trailer 90 miles each way to pick up a load of hay because the local hay just isn’t good enough for her horses. Instead of being able to get by with a little trinket for her birthday, it means spending five figures for a front-loading tractor that he won’t even get to drive much. And then, when she decides she wants to start a business selling the horse feed that she loves to ensure she can still have access to it, he supports her desire plus he gets out of bed every Monday morning to load 50-lb bags to take to the customers.

Off Into the Sunset . . .

Other women may sport jewelry or tell of romantic cruises with their men, but for me, there is nothing more romantic than his making my lifelong dream of having horses in my backyard a reality – and supporting that dream for nine years. Soon we will be embarking on a new chapter in our lives – I wonder what romance will look like then, for I’m sure it will continue to exist for us in our own unique way.

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Janet, Her Beloved, and their First Grandchild

I think the SWEETEST is to come!!!