And in the Role of Mother

As we get older we change roles from child to adult and maybe to parent, and from student to person-stuck-in-cubicle-working-long-hours.

However, most of us regard our parents as frozen in some kind of alternate universe where they never change and still feel the same way about everything. To us, they are in the last role of their lives except for maybe some day getting to add on the tag of grandparent.

Whatever our parents said when we were twelve still goes when we’re thirty-five. It doesn’t matter if Mom protests vigorously that she’s changed her mind about dining out at places with actual dishes. She said she preferred Wendy’s that one time and we’re going to make her stick to her word.

This is one area of our life that we can count on to not change and be rock solid certain. Boy, that’s a relief.

That is, until our children start to grow up and make sly, little jokes about us in front of their friends, while we’re present, as if we can’t really hear them. Suddenly, our own miscreant behavior comes back to bite us.

My son, Louie, who’s 22 makes sure that I never try to carry anything that weighs more than five pounds. That’s a dilemma for me because I am freakishly strong but hate toting things. Do I correct him by picking up some large object or take a seat and enjoy watching him work? So far, I’ve been taking a seat and I’m a little concerned that’s how old age gets you.

Louie is also convinced that I don’t know how to use any new technology and I’m too afraid to learn, can’t stay up past eleven o’clock and don’t recognize any current tunes. In response I like to randomly start singing parts of rap songs when he’s around, which totally weird’s him out, dude.

Yes, I know that last statement is going to only encourage him to think I’m dotty, but that’s okay. It’s starting to feel like part of my role as mother to amuse my only child with my un-coolness. Maybe for awhile we all need to believe that there are touchstones in our little world that don’t change and are therefore reliable.

Last weekend, I had a chance to enlarge my role as mother of Louie and go to his girlfriend, Kathy’s aunt and uncle’s house for Easter on the south side of Chicago. Kathy’s mother, MaryBeth, has nine siblings who are all married and have children and a few grandchildren, and there’s her grandmother, Mary. They were all there at various parts of the day.

Huge Irish Catholic family who all live in the same neighborhood, except for Uncle Mike who moved over one town to Aurora, which no one can figure out why. They were funny, loud and enveloped me as if I was one of their own even going so far as to tell me, “If you get to your feet, you lose your seat.”

There was also a good story about a Brite-Lite that never got picked up out of the shag carpet by Kathy or her brother Bill, or her sister Julie over twenty years ago. So, MaryBeth lived up to her word and drove them to the poor box where Bill was sent to drop it in while the girls watched forlornly from the car. However, last year there was some closure when MaryBeth gave each of them a replacement for Christmas.

All day long I was introduced as, Martha, Louie’s mom and everyone responded with that, ‘oh’ of recognition as they shook my hand. It was my first occasion as mother of the grown child at the serious girlfriend’s family’s house. It made me happy to see that Louie had managed to fall in with such a large, rollicking family. And, bottom line, as long as I know who I am and love what I see, it’s okay to let go of how everyone else describes me. More adventures to follow.

DeClutter a Kitchen, Then a Career

It's the beginning of Holy Week, which started for me as a participant in a noisy parade around the block in a small Chicago neighborhood. The congregation from St. John's Episcopal church banged on drums, shook rattles and there was even one guy playing a conch shell as we waved palms and celebrated. I love that church not only because the rector made a point of introducing me around when I was brand new and she showed up at the hospital with communion right before the first cancer surgery after I'd only known her a week, but also because they don't just have coffee hour, they have lunch. There's been more than one parishoner who's suggested it's a deal maker for new members.

Easter approaches and for me it's a reminder that it's possible to start over in any given moment, no matter what. My belief is founded rock-solid in a loving God who believes in us. That translates for me into a belief that we can always get in our own way but we can also cut it out and change without a lot of fanfare.

That has been my ongoing theme for the past few years. I decluttered my kitchen cabinets and freezer at first from all the food that I didn't even like. Five overflowing grocery bags later I realized there was very little in my kitchen that I would even want to eat. It kind of spoke to how well I looked after my own life at the time.

Clothes were next and I got rid of all of the pastel, the grey and the baggie. It wasn't a good reflection of how I see myself. Now, I'm all about the color and regardless of whether or not it's the 'thin' wardrobe or the 'not-as-thin' wardrobe, it all fashionably fits my form. It's all about living in the present moment.

There are two big categories left to clean up: career and a relationship. Fortunately, I have a lot of great friends who are fun and inspirational and that's something to build on to become more willing for that one perfect relationship, just for me. The career side is also not stone cold. There are three books and a national column but there's also plenty of clutter. This week I'm closing down everything that's not working or not needed and letting all of the various bits and pieces know about this blog if they care to see how all of this turns out.

Spreading myself thin and constantly asking for new advice was a way to not trust in God that it was all going to work out okay. It was my way of hedging my bets and frankly, it didn't work but it did wear me out.

So, I'm keeping up with the gym and looking for a 5k to run in June, noodling with the beginning of a new novel and looking for full time work in public relations here in Chicago. A plan with less clutter, more humility and allowing God some breathing room. Seems appropriate during Holy Week.