Musings of a Midlife Mama and Other Stories

For Fleet

“What are you longing at dear friend?”

Fleet, my writer friend, asked me this after reading my last post on my fear of goodbyes and my need to hold on to people and the past.  He went on to say he’d heard all writing comes from longing.

Really?

Albert Einstein said, “Feeling and longing are the motive forces behind all human endeavor and human creations.”

Really?

I delve further and find there have been many artists who have created, written, painted, or sung about this prolonged yearning that cannot be fulfilled.

Matthew Arnold, an English poet, wrote:

Longing

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam’st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me!

Or, as thou never cam’st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth,
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say, My love why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

Fleet was on to something. What was I longing at?  What were those unfulfilled desires and yearnings I couldn’t stop writing about?

I long for things to stay the same.  I long for the past but not back to my childhood but a time when Molly and Kelly were children so I can do it right.  I want to always believe in God, in Buddha, in a higher power. I yearn to know there is more to this life than this.  I want peace.  Yes, I want world peace.  I want people to have full bellies and lives and be loved and give love.  But I’m also talking about peace of mind, my peace of mind.  If I don’t have peace, can I truly wish peace for other people?  Can I? I want a quiet mind and soul.  I want contentment, to be satisfied.

Really?

Fleet asked me, “What are you longing at dear friend? Then he said, “Write it.”  Maybe that’s it; maybe I write so in that moment on the page things will stay the same. Maybe I write to make things right or to figure out how and why life went wrong and then to try not to do it the same way again.  I yearn for answers. I hope by writing about the past there will be these answers and peace.  I write to understand myself and the world better.  Saul Bellow, a novelist, wrote, “There is an immense, painful longing for a broader, more flexible, fuller, more coherent, more comprehensive account of what we human beings are, who we are and what this life is for.”  Yes. Yes.  Yes.  And while I yearn for peace, I’m not so sure I’d be satisfied with contentment.  I’m not so sure I’d want to stop my longing to write and to find the right words, to live a deeper and fuller life.  In fact, I know this to be true.

I’ll leave you with Radiohead’s “Creep,” a song about longing and belonging.

What do you long for?

COMMENT OF THE DAY: BigLittleWolf says, “For me, sometimes writing is about longing. Sometimes, it is about learning. Often, it is about going somewhere else in my mind. A place that is safer, simpler, and where nothing hurts.”

This is the season of goodbyes.  Last night Molly and Kelly went to their respective going away parties.  Molly went to say goodbye to Jonathan who was going back for his senior year in college; Kelly was saying arrivederci to Taylor who would be going for her first year in college. I think Molly feels this is all part of life, and that next summer she’ll see Jonathan again.  “No biggie, Mom.”  For Kelly, since this is her first experience with saying goodbye to friends going off to school and she’s staying  home for college, there is more uncertainty, maybe more sadness. I feel for her.  Over the last month as kids are going back to school, Kelly’s friends who were juniors last year and now seniors in high school, Kelly is feeling the loss of not being a child anymore.  I know this loss.  Molly and Kelly have both now graduated from high school, no longer little girls. 

By now you probably realize I have an issue with goodbyes.  For the love of Pete, I wrote a whole memoir about Molly leaving for college three years ago.  To say I was wrecked Molly was moving six hundred miles away from home, from me, is an understatement.  After writing the memoir, I realize the reasons I felt abandoned.  We had a strong bond and by Molly moving away I felt that bond would no longer be.  Out of sight, out of mind.  I felt our relationship would be forever altered and she would no longer need me.

Molly will be moving out again to go to college.  She’s been home for a year and half.  When she moved back home, she slipped right back into the fold.  I became her mother again, cooking for her and the family, sitting across the table and hearing about her day. When she moves, I will miss her smell of the beach, clean hair and men’s deodorant.  I will miss her, “Ah, Maws.”  I will miss seeing her smiling face and even her grumpy one. 

I’m learning to accept change.  I have learned to say goodbye.  There have been some wonderful teachers.  Rhonda’s mom, Chucky, had such grace in her acceptance of dying from cancer.  She was filled with such spirit and peace. Chucky made every one, including me, feel that her passing wasn’t goodbye but until we meet again.

I may be getting better at goodbyes, but I’ll leave you with “Hello.”

How do you let go?

Before Oprah, there was Phil Donahue.  Yes, younguns, Phil Donahue had the first tabloid talk show and it was in Chicago, paving the way for Oprah.  But I digress.  I used to watch the Phil Donahue Show because it rocked and it was the only gig in town.  Oh, those were the days…  One day I flipped on the show to see a bunch of grown men dressed in diapers and carrying baby bottles and pacifiers.  Do you think I’m making this stuff up?  Okay, I could but I’m not.  I think there was a psychologist on the show talking about regression or regressive therapy.  I can’t remember.  At fourteen, what did I know about men dressed in diapers? (Fortunately, as an adult I still don’t know anything personally about this phenomenon.) I do remember the men frolicking around like babies and going back to a happier time, a time when they felt nurtured and didn’t know what shame was (For the love of Pete, did they look in a mirror as they put on the diaper?).  Many of them were married, and as their wives looked on and Phil Donahue kept a serious face, these baby-men talked about how this allowed them to “grow up” in a better way than they actually had. What?

Years later therapy turned to having us write a letter to our younger selves. The idea is that we can use this exercise to be gentler when speaking to ourselves at a younger age.  Let’s face it, as adults we are taught to be in control and take ownership for our actions.  At the risk of wearing a diaper to go back to that innocent time, I will write a letter to myself at age  seven and to my three children.

Dear Me (and Molly, Kelly and Jack if you’re reading this),

I’m writing to you to let you know everything is cool.  You don’t know this yet but you’ll marry a great person and have three (or one, or five, or none with just cats) awesome children.  I know you’re too busy counting calories and worrying about what people think of you, but here’s what you don’t know (This list is for you, Melia Lore.):

1. This too shall pass and don’t sweat the small stuff.  There are reasons for cliches.  When enough people say them, they become truth.  But I want you to know that any of the crap you think is so monumental will pass.  Broken relationships, friendships gone awry, and fights with your parents will pass.  All this stuff will become insignificant.  Ultimately what really matters will rise to the top.
2. Don’t take yourself so seriously.  Look around.  Your friends are more worried about themselves and tracking toilet paper from the bathroom than they are about you doing it.  “Lighten up, Francis.”  Don’t worry be happy. 

3. FDR said, “There is nothing to fear but fear itself.”  You, my friend, have made a life of fearing everything from earthquakes to airplanes.  Ultimately, you will know this has to do with control and your utter lack of it.  Know there will be many days that pass where you won’t fear the earth shaking and airplanes falling from the sky.  Please remember these times.  Remember joy!

4. You will eventually love and accept (and even like) your parents.  You will come to understand them as human and believe what your dad has said all along, “We did the best job we could.”  You buy this because this is how you end up parenting. 

5. Eat, Pray, Love.  You missed the bus, ship, and plane on this one.  Another woman (Elizabeth Gilbert) will write this blasted memoir and sell a bazillion copies and be on the NY Best Seller List for 158 weeks and have a Hollywood movie starring Julia Roberts made.  Once you let go of your bitterness (yeah, right), you realize the importance of  honoring food and relishing the ritual and comfort of eating, and believing and relying on a higher power and to love, love, love. 

I want you to know you are doing a remarkable of living life and have three wonderful, healthy and joyful children, fantastic parents and friends, and a husband to prove it.

Love,  Me

PS-Please don’t ever wear a diaper no matter how shitty life gets.

What would you tell your younger self?

QUOTE OF THE DAY: Big Little Wolf says, “What would I tell my younger self? To listen to those inner voices. They always know best.Or at the very least, to see more clearly, looking in the mirror.”

Have you heard about “$h*! My Dad Says“? Justin Halpern, a comedy writer, moved from LA back in to his parents’ home in San Diego. There, he transcribed the hysterical and salty (The man can cuss.) things his 73-year-old father said and posted them on Twitter. Halpern got a following, a book deal, and now a TV show on CBS starring William Shatner.

Here are some of the highlights from Halpern’s dad:

“That woman was sexy. . . . Out of your league? Son, let women figure out why they won’t screw you. Don’t do it for them.”

“Engagement rings are pointless. Indians gave cows…Oh sorry, congrats on proposing. We good now? Can I finish my Indian story?”

“YOU, a published writer?..Internet don’t count. Any asshole can throw shit up on there.”

“You seen my cell phone?…What’s it look like? Like two horses fucking. It’s a phone, son. It looks like a phone.”

“I didn’t say you were ugly. I said your girlfriend is better looking than you, and standing next to her, you look ugly.”

“Son, no one gives a shit about all the things your cell phone does. You didn’t invent it, you just bought it. Anybody can do that.”

“A scar ain’t 13 god damned stitches. I’ll introduce you to men with REAL scars, then we’ll all laugh at your fucking 13 stitches together.”

For two years, I’ve been posting comments on FaceBook from my son. While Jack’s not as ”eloquent”  as Halpern’s dad, Jack does have insight beyond his seven years on this planet. Below are just a few of the highlights from  $h*! Jack says:

On women’s fashion and decorum..I was taking Jack to school and we were late.  I grabbed his hand to run to his kindergarten class.  He gave me a once over and said, “You look like you just rolled out of bed.  Did you brush your hair?”  I shook my head no.  “Did you brush your teeth?”  I shook my head no.  “Tell me you’re at least wearing a bra.”  How does a five-year-old know that wearing a bra is the bar to being presentable in public or not.

On judging people…“I really like Mike.”  Mike is his aunt’s boyfriend. “He’s really nice to me.  And he smiles a lot.” 

“Yeah,” I said. “ It seems like Mike has a big heart.” 

“I bet he has a big pancreas, too.” 

“Honey, the heart thing was a joke.”

“Yeah, Mom, I knew what you meant.”

On living your life…“Mom, I hate that people work for money and not fun.”

I said, “Boy, I understand that.”

“I bet you in Africa they really need jobs,” Jack said.  ”And I bet they’re not very funny but very serious.”

On silence…“Do you think you could die if you didn’t speak?” Jack asked.

“No, there are plenty of people who don’t talk like monks, priests and others who have taken a vow of silence.”

 ”Did Buddha speak?”

“Yeah, but he also had long periods where I’m sure he didn’t,” I said.  “I can’t imagine not talking. I like to talk.”

 ”No kidding.”

On teacher appreciation..Jack was wracking his brain about what to put in a letter to his teacher for Teacher Appreciation Week.

“I really don’t appreciate her,” he said.

I said, “How about a subject she’s taught you?”

“Well, I do like to write stories like you.”

“Okay, how about ‘I love to wr–’”

 ”Whoa, Whoa,” Jack said.  ”That’s a little weird saying “love” to a teacher. I’ll do it, but I’m letting you know I’m signing it: Sincerely, Jack.

On women…I’d been the SPRITES’, a mother-daughter philanthropic organization, co-president.

Jack asked, “How was it being the SPRITES’ president?”

“It was good.  But I only have another month and then it’s over.”

“Then you’ll be the President of the World?” Jack asked.

“Oh, no,” I said.  “I won’t be the President of the World or the President of the United States.”

“You know I don’t know any woman who has been President of the United States, and that’s sad.”

On names…”Mom, you know how people look like their names?”

“Give me an example,” I said.

“You know my name is Jack. I look like a Jack. You’re mama. You look like a mama. But your real name is Michelle. You don’t look like a Michelle.”

“Who do I look like?”

“Without the hair, Steve.”

What’s words of wisdom have you’ve gotten from the mouth of babes?

COMMENT OF THE DAY: Mrs. G says, “I love Justin Halpern!! I write letters to my mother that sum up some of her life’s philosophies. It helps get me through the day!”

Travel Channel stole my idea for “Man v. Food“.  I came up with the idea of pitting myself against food over thirty years ago. Okay, I’ll admit I’m not a man (NEWS FLASH!) and my battle with food isn’t compelling television but nonetheless I’ve been living Adam Richman’s, the host of the show, life for over three decades. 

Since the age of thirteen, I’ve wrestled food to the ground until it gives.  I’ve eaten a bowl of Cream of Wheat with raisins and brown sugar as my only meal for years.  I’ve counted calories, read cookbooks like they were novels, and watched those around me enjoy food while I gnawed hungrily on carrots. 

 Growing up in chaos, food (and ultimately my weight) was the only thing I thought I could control.  I’m ignoring you tacos with sour cream and guacomole.  I don’t see you carrot cake with real cream cheese frosting. You mean nothing to me sourdough bread with butter.  When the chaos of puberty kicked in, hormones roared and warred, my control over food went into overdrive. 

My battle isn’t unique.  Many women have a hate-hate relationship with food.  And it’s not surprising I’m a registered dietitian since research shows the majority of dietitians have disordered eating.  We are no different than therapists who sort out their childhoods while counseling others.  We are no different than dentists with bad teeth or heart surgeons who smoke.

Over the years, I’ve tried to become more Zen in my attitude and approach when it comes to food.  I have tried to appreciate food for the energy and health it provides.  I have tried to sit silently (that means no TV or distractions) with my small portions of Greek yogurt, cup of blueberries, sprinkle of granola and thank the universe for my sustanance.  I have tried to become more French (French Women Don’t Get Fat) in my appreciation for food.  Oui! Oui! 

While I have come a long way, baby, from counting every single calorie and eating a bowl of porridge for the day, I will never, ever, ever appreciate the show that is “Man v. Food.”  The gluttony, the decadence, the volume of food Adam Richman devours is nauseating.  I’m glad I’m not the only person to feel this way.  David, who has a love-love relationship with food, finds the show hard to watch as well. 

I may not ever be Buddha in my food sensibilities, but I won’t be Adam Richman either. 

How do you feel about food?  “Man v. Food?”