Sarah and I were talking yesterday about how lucky we are. There are so many reasons, of course, but our conversation centered around family. Our own childhoods, with engaged, educated, interesting, fun parents who each respected their children and encouraged us all to excel, to take risks, to grow. OK, we didn’t use those words during our chat, but that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? Having good parents means so very much.
Now that we’re both in the thick of it, trying oh so hard to be good parents ourselves, we call upon our own childhood experiences more and more. We wonder how our own parents would have handled situations that we’re going through with our own kids now. We realize how very rare our own experience was——that our house was the house everyone wanted to be at. Sure our friends came by to eat the good food that dad always made sure stocked the kitchen: ice cream, chips, a dozen kinds of cereal, bagels, soda. And they came to swim in our pool or play basketball out back. But our friends also came because our parents welcomed them. And let them be who they were, just as they let us be who we were and who we were becoming.
There is so very much more to this topic. It is never ending, really, as we all try to offer our kids the best of all possible childhoods. After having another talk with Sarah about how our kids are so lucky to have their siblings and their cousins and a large extended family of love and tradition, I received a link to this video. It’s the same message in a slightly different——and slightly more sad——delivery. But there it is, loud and clear: Enjoy. Thank. Appreciate. Share. Do your best. Live together and with great appreciation for all that you have.
Today isn’t a “significant” day in the loss of our dad. It’s not his birthday or the anniversary of the day he died or Valentine’s Day——on which I always remember him and the year we sat at Pizza Hut as a family and he gave me and my siblings each a Valentine-themed pencil. But sometimes it’s the days that aren’t supposed to be significant that are most memorable.
We were lucky to share so many days together.
And we’re lucky to have so many memories to share.
But some days are still difficult.
Even as we children are lucky still, each with our own families of five now.
Even as a doting grandmother, who has so very many reasons to be proud.
Because I wrote this quickly. Because it’s Tuesday. Because I haven’t joined up in a very long time, I’m linking this post to Heather of the EO’s Just Write #19.
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I get pulled on occasions – over-hearing a mother call her daughter pumpkin; a quiet Sunday when I want to pick up the phone and call her (which was our tradition); a quick glance at a mother and daughter having lunch together. Those are the moments where the ache seems most profound. Understanding and hugs from afar.
Thank you for this…it spoke to me where I am in this moment.
Sending you warm thoughts…I know this ache.
Now that I only have one hand to type with I feel like I have a million things to write about. Of course I do. But you wrote what has clearly been on my mind, too.
Love you!
I think “do the best you can” is the best thing you can do as a parent.
This really hit home for me. Thanks, Jen. And thanks both of you. For continuing to talk to each other and to all of us. xox
How lucky that you have those memories to both draw on and cherish! I often think about what I am creating for my children, and I sometimes feel that I work so hard, almost too hard to “create” what I feel their childhood should be like. Sometimes it feels forced and then I feel like a failure, like it should just come naturally and if I were the “perfect” mom, it would. But this is just sometimes. I try to remember to be forgiving with myself, to allow myself room to breathe and grow as their mother, to remember that our parents didn’t have all of the answers even if it appeared that they did. Thank you for another great post.
This is lovely, Jen. A large, close-knit family is truly a great gift.
Just sending hugs. Big, warm, fuzzy hugs to both of you. xo