Promises

I recently started binge watching the Netflix series, "The Flash," which is the story behind a young man named Barry Allen, who becomes the superhero speedster in the red suit. Without going into too many details or giving away too much of the show, a scientist named Dr. Harrison Wells and his team built a particle accelerator. When they turned it on, it became unstable and exploded, causing all kinds of havoc in the city, and creating "meta humans," people who took on superhuman powers, including Barry Allen. The majority of the show takes place after the explosion, and we learn the backstory of many of the characters through flashback scenes. Obviously, Barry is the main character and the show focuses mainly on his story, both past and present, but there also numerous secondary characters whose stories tie closely into Barry's, making the storyline flow very easily from one episode to the next. There are lots of plot twists and turns along the way, creating the urgency of "I have to see what comes next!", which is why I like it.

One thing that I have noticed about this series, is people promise a lot of things to other people. "We'll find him and bring him home, I promise." "I promise you, I'm gonna make things right." "We can fix him, I promise." "I promise, I won't leave you." 

I don't like promises. They make me cringe. I don't promise things to anyone, and I don't accept it when someone makes a promise to me. Promises are usually made with the best intentions, but it becomes too easy for a promise to be broken. Once a promise is made and broken, all trust is wiped out. In 1999 I exchanged vows with a man, to love and keep each other, 'til death do us part. We're both still very much alive, but despite my efforts to keep it, that promise was broken 11 years after it was made. Needless to say, it's difficult for me to fully believe anything he says he'll do. 

Promises are nothing more than spoken words, but there is a weight attached to them. The assumption that whoever makes a promise will carry it through. Don't promise something unless you are absolutely 100,000,000% sure that you can keep it. I don't care how big or small the promise may seem, if there's even the slightest chance you can't keep it, don't promise it.

The old saying "Actions speak louder than words" holds very true to me. I would much rather see someone do something than hear them promise it. Prove to me what you say is true, don't just mumble meaningless words. It saddens me that so many people throw this word around haplessly, be it politicians, celebrities, ex's (thankfully, my ex doesn't promise me things. I wouldn't believe him if he did. I've heard of too many people who hear it from an ex-husband/wife), friends, or whoever. On a small, localized scale, there would be less heartache, anger and arguments if people kept their promises or didn't even make them in the first place. On a much larger, global scale, voting for politicians would probably be a hell of a lot easier if we thought that we could actually trust one or two of them. It's easier to gain the respect of others when you're a man or woman of your word. 

In my own life, I'm relieved that I don't hear too many people make empty promises. In fact, I can't recall the last time I heard "I promise." Which is fine with me. My kids are learning that breaking promises is just as bad as outright lying, and that I don't approve of either. We all need to hold ourselves accountable for the things we say.

To Mr. Barry Allen, aka the Flash, I like you, and I'm cheering you on in your quest to figure out your past while using your superhuman powers to do good in the world. But, please, for the sake of all that is holy, stop making promises. To my friends, and anyone else who will listen, please, I beg of you, check your words, and let your actions speak louder.

Ready for This

I am an emotional sap. My oldest will be 15 in one month, not even all the way through his Freshman year of high school, and any time I think about graduation for more than 15 seconds, I tear up. No kidding. June 20-whatever of 2019 is going to be an extremely tough day for me.

I know there are lots of moms who are overprotective, neurotic and emotional. There are dads, too, but I think these traits show up more in women. I won't speak for all moms, but you can agree with me if you'd like. I think part of why I get so emotional and neurotic is because I want affirmation that I'm doing this parenting thing well. That is not a phishing strategy to see how many compliments I can get. That is simply an admission that I hope I'm making the best choices, and adequately preparing my children for the beautiful mess of a world we live in. In fact, the only people who can truly affirm to me that I haven't completely screwed up, are my children.

As they grow older, they learn, they expand their world, they become a little more independent. This forces me, their overprotective, do-everything-for-everyone mother to have to let go just a little bit. With each new thing they learn and accomplish, I'm needed just a tiny bit less. Children always need their mom, to that there is no doubt. But I don't need to be with them every moment, help them with every thing, watch them every second. I have to let go. And each time I'm forced to step back and watch my kids do something on their own, I can't help but think, "Oh god, I hope they are ready for this."

These "letting go" moments can come gradually. I walked my two younger kids to school a day or two ago. A portion of the sidewalk was covered in a crunchy snowbank, forcing us to go into the street. My adventurous and rebellious son ignored my request to go around, and stomped right over the bank to the other side, then ran down the sidewalk toward the crossing guard. My daughter and I opted for the street, and as we stepped off the curb, I instinctively held out my hand to take hers. My outstretched hand hung in the air, empty, for 10 seconds or so before I looked at her and said, "Have you outgrown hand-holding? Is that what's happening here?" She smiled. But her hands stayed by her side. I had to let go. Didn't see that coming. I mean, I did - she just turned 10 - but maybe I just don't want to admit that it came.

The situations forcing us to let go can also be not-so-subtle, more blatant and obvious. The other day, I had barely gotten my entire body through the front door after coming home from work, and my oldest came bounding down the stairs toward me, exclaiming excitedly, "Mama, Mama, Mama... Guess what??"
"What?"
"I'm gonna get my working papers!"
"Oh, good fo... wait, what??"
Among the swirl of emotion that suddenly popped into my head, I found myself thinking things like, "Well, there goes my after-school sitter. Working papers, eh? Maybe he won't ask for money so much. This means I have to take him out to find a job." And finally, it really hit. "Wait, he's going to start working? No... is he really that old already?" Yep, that cord wasn't just cut, it was snapped right in half. He'll be 15 in a month, so again, it's not like I didn't know it was coming. He's not a baby. He's been pretty independent for a while now, taking on the responsibility of watching his siblings after school, taking it upon himself to get his homework done so as not to get "the lecture," making sure that the chores I leave for the three of them get done before I come home from work. By all definitions, he is a young man, not a baby, not a toddler, barely even a kid anymore.

But I'm constantly thinking, "I hope they are ready for this." This statement can take many forms, such as "Did they listen to what I've told them? Will they remember to look the person in the eye and speak clearly? Will they say something embarrassing or rude? Oh, I hope they're not rude!" I have to have faith in my children that they really have been listening and will practice at least a little of what I preach.

Maybe I should really be asking, "Am I ready for this?" Every day is uncharted territory. Yes, we have our routines and our habits and our things we do every day. At the same time, the kids are growing and learning and exploring bit by bit each day. Which means that I have to continually release my grasp over their lives.

I am extremely proud of my children. I want them to continue growing and to be strong, mindful, active, healthy citizens of whatever communities they end up in. So why do I turn into a sobbing, sappy mess when I try to picture them in the future? Will I ever be ready to completely let go? I'm not sure that any parent ever truly is. Maybe it makes it a little easier that we are forced to slowly and gradually release our children out into the world, rather than holding an 8-hour course, then saying goodbye.

I can remember having a conversation with a very dear friend, years ago, after being upset with someone. I was crying my eyes out, asking rhetorically why I was letting this person get to me so much. My friend answered me, "Because you give a rat's ass." That kind of explains a lot, actually, when I really think about it. I get emotional because I care. End of story. I worry for my kids, I think about them, I care what happens to them and what others think of them. So I get emotional.

No one can ever be fully prepared for what the world is going to throw at them in life. I never imagined I would be divorced, yet here I am. I have one younger sister, which means that my parents, who raised two girls, could never really help me be ready to be a mother to two sons and one daughter. My sister has two step-sons. Could she have learned how to deal with that from our home growing up? Most likely not. What we can learn are the transferable skills that allow us to think outside our usual box, and reason with that which sometimes seems unreasonable. We, as adults, are growing and learning every day. If we're not, then we are depriving ourselves of fantastic opportunities.

Every day I reflect some on how my kids have grown, and what they were like when they were babies, and I project a little about who they'll be in the future. And every day it gets a little easier to accept that they are no longer babies, that I have to continue to step back and watch them live life instead of living it for them, my way.  I let go, little by little. Each day, as I watch them live their life and develop who they are, they affirm to me that I have done a fine job raising them. And through their actions and words, my children reassure me that they will take the lessons they've learned and apply them appropriately. I reflect on how much I've grown over the past few years, and how much more there is to learn. I can settle myself, knowing that we are all faring quite well in this crazy journey.

I will continue be an emotional, sappy mess at times, It's kind of what I do. I'm ok with that though, because that tells me that I'm somehow doing something right. And I'm definitely going to need a lot of tissues come 2019.