Musings of a Midlife Mama and Other Stories

“The question remains: Is Michelle Zive going to cry every time she reads the part about Molly’s ruptured appendix?”  –David, Michelle’s husband

“I’m really proud of  Zive.  Her book is going to help a lot of people.”–Jack, age 6 (but really a 40-year-old man inside), Michelle’s son

“After reading Zive’s memoir, I recommend she get on anti-depressants and get herself into psychotherapy.” –John, clinical psychologist, Taos Summer Writers’ Conference, Advanced Memoir Workshop

“I think Michelle should let go already.” –Donna, Michelle’s friend

“I read the memoir in one sitting.  I found the story compelling.  What was amazing was how Zive captured the nuances as well as the heart of the story.  She didn’t miss a thing.  I found myself crying throughout especially at the bittersweet ending.  It was great to follow Zive on this wonderful journey…again.” –Molly, age 20, Michelle’s daughter

“Zive has to get this memoir published.  She is a fantastic storyteller, and this story is going to resonate with people.”–Marty, Michelle’s dad (”Like father, like daughter.”)

“What memoir?” –Kelly, age 17, Michelle’s daughter

“Reviewers of Zive’s early drafts of the memoir found her sense of humor off putting.  One reviewer said, ‘Zive uses her humor as a defense, and it becomes offensive and tiring. I know she’s deeper than this.’  However, I found her humor showed her resiliency.   When children have a difficult childhood, like Zive’s, they use humor to “cope”  or to bounce back.  Zive’s memoir is sprinkled with humor and insight throughout.”–Catherine, psychologist, Taos Summer Writers’ Conference, Memoir Class

“You’re still working on that memoir?”–Rhonda, Michelle’s friend for thirty-two years and a character in the memoir unbeknowst to her.  That will teach her.

Read from the memoir, HOLDING ON AND LETTING GO: A MOTHER’S STORY, the first chapter and the first time Molly’s boyfriend visited San Diego.

“Mom, chill already,” Molly said over the phone.  “Jack’s fine.”

Jack had his first official play date with his friend, Dayle, from school.  When I’d taken Dayle home, her mom had invited Jack to stay for a couple of hours.

“Dayle would love to have him.”

Jack and Dayle held hands and jumped up and down.  “Please, Mom, please can I stay?”

A million excuses popped into my head as to why Jack shouldn’t stay.  Most of them were legitimate.  Would he get hungry and then what?  He ate ten things: chicken nuggets, hamburger patties cooked to a crisp, french fries, fresh berries, cookies, raw almonds, green apples, spaghetti noodles with butter, bread from San Fillipo’s and Danimals.  You think I’m kidding?  I’m not.  Sometimes the list swells to twelve but usually it stays around ten when he bores of one or two of the items.  

Plus I didn’t want him blowing it at his first playdate.  I imagined getting the phone call from Andrea. 

“Jack is having a meltdown.  You know how he acted when you tried to drop him off at Dayle’s birthday party a couple of weeks ago.  He’s doing it again.”

Oh, shit.

But it was more than his finickiness or the threat of a potential meltdown. 

Hours before David and I had taken Dayle and Jack to Coronado Island on the ferry.  They are best friends in the truest and purest sense of the word.  They finish each other’s sentences, share stories and toys, and talk a special language.  Under the warm San Diego sun in January, I watched the two buddies pointing out the Midway aircraft carrier, the seal asleep on the buoy and the Navy helicopters that buzzed over our heads on the ferry.

As I watched Jack and Dayle excitedly share these things with  each other,  I thought of all those AWFUL mother-in-laws I’d witnessed throughout my years.  I remember the mother-in-law who got up at the rehearsal dinner of a friend of mine and said, “This is the lovely bracelet I got from my son when Shannon broke off the first engagement with my son.  I can’t wait to see what I get if this marriage fails.”  Or the friend’s mother-in-law who sent a ticket for her son to come home to Texas for Christmas but not his wife.  Sitcoms, reality shows and Dr. Laura’s radio program are full of daughter-in-laws describing the mom who can’t let go of her son and how “the daughter-in-law will never be good enough for her son.”  I watched the six-year-old friends, Jack and Dayle, and I thought, “I know how those AWFUL women feel.”  I had the potential to be one of them in twenty years or so…or now.

I left Jack at Dayle’s house, his enthusiasm and joy radiating from his grin. 

I now said to Molly on the phone, “But Jack was supposed to be home a half hour ago.”

“Mom, really.  He’s fine. ”

“But what if they’ve done something with him.”

“Done something with him?”  Molly said, sighing into the phone. “Like what?”

Like kidnapped him, like crossed the US-Mexico border with him, like held him captive…

When I didn’t say anything, Molly said, “Mom, don’t be a nut.  Jack’s fine. ”  Then she laughed.  “Remember when John came down and visited me from Sacramento State?”

John was Molly’s first college boyfriend.

“Yeah, I was cool.”

“Cool?” Molly said. 

Read from my memoir, HOLDING ON AND LETTING GO: A MOTHER’S STORY and see what you think.  Was I cool? How would you have handled it?  Do you have a similar story?