| Single with Children: Mom's feeling the pressure to remarry By SUSIE PARKER Opinion Publication Date: 05/08/02 There's an interesting school of thought that seems to be pervading my home of late. I'm starting to feel a little like I've heard late 20-somethings feel when they have yet to get married. The question of the moment involves why I haven't gotten remarried yet. The message is mostly unspoken but I'm getting the kind of looks, particularly from my daughter and son, that seem to ask what is taking so long? I'm starting to wonder if we've seen too many Meg Ryan movies. It sounds like a simple question, but in reality, it's not that easy. Believe me, I think about the situation quite a bit. Sometimes even I wonder why I haven't gotten on the "Just Married - Again" bandwagon. I have an arsenal of excuses ranging from "I haven't met the right one yet" to "What if I make a mistake?" Both are valid and, from my perspective, strangely intertwined. I try to smile when I am told about other family members and friends who have been divorced and/or widowed for a much shorter period of time than I have and miraculously managed to find the path back down the aisle. I'm gently reminded that I am 42 years old and, while that's not quite an admission ticket to the rest home, it doesn't qualify me for membership in the "young adult" demographic either. Trust me. I get the point. I'm beginning to think that my family's worst fear is that I might wind up a very eccentric, crotchety old woman who numbers about 30 cats among her best friends. "Come on guys, have a little faith in me, please," I plead only half kiddingly. I'm not alone. There are quite a few of us out there in a "divorced and holding" pattern. I know this from talking to friends who share my present station in life and from reading about others who also have found the prospect of taking another chance at "happily ever after" a serious and daunting undertaking. No one with a shred of sanity would ever want to go through another divorce. On the flip side, the idea of growing old alone isn't the least bit inviting. I don't worry about it too much, but I have a few friends who actually lose sleep from imagining a future spent terminally single. Worrying about growing old is a waste of time: we all know that as long as we're breathing, we're also aging. Finding ourselves alone, however, is something that we like to believe we have a modicum of control over, providing the fates and maybe some weird planetary configuration cooperate on some level at a super secret predetermined time. I have a feeling it's all very complicated. Naturally, I understand my kids' concerns. They lived through and accepted their father's remarriage a couple of years ago. They discovered the world didn't come to an end and those dastardly tales like "Cinderella" and "Snow White" were much ado about nothing. They acquired a nice stepmother, and their father is happily resettled in the institution of marriage. I think they were greatly relieved not to have to worry about him facing a solitary existence. Suddenly, I'm in the glaring relationship spotlight. They have managed to turn their concerns toward me, probably because our home will be one resident short as Katie begins college this fall. In a mere three years, Justin will likely follow suit, and I believe they sincerely fret about my ability to manage without kids hanging out in the driveway skateboarding or busy in the back yard attempting potentially bone crushing feats on the diving board and trampoline. What in the world will I do with all the extra time I'll suddenly acquire? They know that I already talk to our dogs and cats. Do they fear that I might start expecting these creatures to verbally respond? (Relax - I don't quite yet.) Of course, I nurse my own creeping doubts. I mean, what do I really know about this relationship stuff? I've been out on a fair number of dates since my divorce, but there's still so much I don't know and a lot of things that I fear. Contrary to what the online dating services and advice columns would have us believe, I have this hunch that it's not necessarily always better the second time around. I've passed the point where it could be said that I married on the rebound, given that it's been five years since I became legally single again. But I take very little comfort from that. I'm older, but am I really wiser? I've come to the conclusion that when all the pieces fall together and the right person comes along, I will be so certain of it that I will suddenly toss most of my caution to the wind and take a leap that requires a great deal of faith and copious amounts of fear-diffusing love. Someday, I truly hope to arrive at that point, but I remind my kids, parents, friends and even my former husband, that I can't just make it happen. If they work on being patient, refrain from rushing me as much as possible and, most of all, trust my judgment, I will remain open to all of the possibilities and do my best to avoid turning into their worst nightmare: an elderly, nutty old woman known by her neighbors only as "the cat lady." Hey, what's so bad about cats anyway? Readers can e-mail Susie Parker at Susiewrites@gmail.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
31 January 2005
Single...With Children: Feeling The Pressure To Remarry
Single...With Children: Making Remarriage Family-Friendly!
| Single with Children: Ex-spouse's remarriage requires a lot of compromise By Susie Parker Opinion Publication Date: 04/24/02 Spring is most definitely here. Things are greening, flowers are blooming, we're all enjoying more light in the evenings. Spring seems to herald in a whole host of new beginnings. I've had a couple of friends tell me the news that their ex-spouses have announced they are getting remarried. It was interesting to listen as they talked about how they feel. Both these friends have children, and they were wondering how their children would handle having a new stepparent and watching their father interact with someone else's kids. Good questions. Whether viewed as positive or negative, a remarriage brings changes and people tend to experience very emotional feelings. I remember when I discovered that my ex-husband was getting remarried. Even though we had been divorced for more than two years, the news hit me much harder than I ever would have imagined. The upcoming marriage was a final reiteration of a fact my mind had previously embraced, but perhaps my heart had not quite completely accepted. It was really over. There's no point in pretending there isn't a kind of awkwardness attached with the concept of a former spouse marrying. It's strange to imagine someone we were once married to suddenly be married to another person. It's even far more delicate when children on either or both sides are involved. I realized straightaway that not only were my kids processing the information that they were about to gain a new stepmother and two new stepsisters, they also were examining me more closely than usual to get some "feel" for how I was dealing with it. I could tell that they were wondering if I felt sad or bitter. I'm sure they wondered how this would change future visits with their father. Not only would they no longer be the only kids around, there also would be another prominent adult figure who would have her own way of doing things. The transition of remarriage deeply affects the children on both sides of the union. Remarriage, while no doubt a happy event for the two adults about to pledge their love and commitment, presents one of the most challenging issues in any divorce. It requires communication. It means spending a lot of time reassuring the children who will become part of a new family unit that their individual place in the life of their soon-to-be-married parent will not be in any way diminished. Sometimes, this reassurance will have to be offered over and over. With enough time, attention, sensitivity, kindness and compassion, the children will discover that love is one of those amazing gifts with the unique power to proliferate the more it is given. Time must be spent to reinforce the concept that, while there will be more people present around the dinner table and hanging around the house, each child's unique and cherished presence can never be replaced or taken over. This is vital information for a child to hear and bears repeating until it is finally grasped, no matter how many times it takes. Blended families don't acquire an instant ease with each other as soon as the parents are pronounced man and wife. To consider otherwise is a real recipe for disappointment. Only time, experience and tons of patience will create an atmosphere of comfort. Blended families mean a mix of everything, including family rituals, customs and routines. Children of both parents will no doubt think their way of doing things works perfectly fine and staunchly hold onto what they know best from their past. There will be, expectedly, some resistance to changing certain facets of life as they knew it before the remarriage. Blending requires some trial and error and loads of give and take. Patience can become strained, but rarely is it more essential than in bringing together two families that already have separate histories. Remarriage also creates a challenge for the parent not getting remarried. It presents a real opportunity to consider the powerful impact their acceptance, or lack thereof, will make in their children's lives. This may require putting aside pithy comments, derisive remarks and opinions that will negatively influence how children view and handle the advent of parental remarriage. As hurt as one may still feel from a difficult divorce, for better or worse our children look closely to us for their cues. It's at this time that we have to consider what is more important to express: useless negativity or hopeful optimism. It is a golden opportunity to look outside ourselves and ahead to our children's future and put our stamp of approval on the new nuptials. Parents have the power to make it OK for our children to imagine new stepparents and stepsiblings and we owe it to our kids not only to let them know it's OK but also to assist in reaffirming that this does not diminish the love our ex-spouses feel for them. Sometimes, it's a hard step to make, but as is the case many times in life, the hardest steps are the most important. There are enough negatives and unhappy events that visit our children's lives as they are growing up, particularly if they don't happen to live in a home with their two biological parents. Sometimes we don't have the power to make everything that pops up easy and painless. No loving parent purposefully wants to make things more difficult for their precious children. We should be mindful that transitions, such as remarriage of a parent, can be confusing. Looming change can feel intimidating. If we keep our primary focus on making the path our kids must travel as calm and smooth as we possibly can, regardless of whatever past hurts and slights we may have suffered, we are giving them a wonderful opportunity to look forward with optimism toward a positive, nonthreatening future with new relationships that will hopefully enrich their lives. Readers can e-mail Susie Parker at Susiewrites@gmail.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
Single...With Children: Milestones Can Be Calibrated In Inches
| Single with Children: Milestones can be measured by etching a line on wall By SUSIE PARKER Opinion Publication Date: 04/10/02 The other day I was reading and glanced over at the edge of my door to discover something I'd never noticed in the 18 months I've lived in this house. At first, it simply looked like lines drawn at various places on the edge of the door. Curiosity got the best of me and I walked over to take a closer look. What I discovered, upon careful inspection, was that a family who had lived in this house before us had carefully, periodically measured the heights of what would appear to be their three children. Each measurement included the child's name and the date they must have stood there, no doubt giddily hoping to see some progress in their heights. I couldn't help but smile at the image and the memory of doing the same thing when my kids were younger and so eager to grow tall. It was a little hard keeping track on any one door frame, because we moved around a lot, something like every couple of years and to several different cities in several different states. I remember taking them for physicals every year and the nurse would always give me a note with both of my kids' heights and weights, and I would dutifully come home and stash it into their baby books, always intending to eventually record those vital statistics in ink. At least I still have the notes. There are so many milestones our children reach from birth to adulthood, and not all of them can be measured with a ruler and a pencil. One major milestone that is on my mind a lot these days comes in the form of a laminated card given not by a healthcare professional but by the Department of Motor Vehicles. Justin was beaming after passing the computer driving test. I remember feeling as if I needed a healthcare professional or, at the very least, something to control the palpitations in my chest and those sweaty palms of mine. I initially thought I had it in the bag. My son has never been the kind of young man to sit down with a book, and he seemed to have no real desire to memorize too many facts. Wouldn't you just know he'd suddenly reveal a talent for both that materialized in the acquisition of this permit that says he can now operate a car as long as a licensed driver is beside him? Who knew he had such an ability for memorizing rules and regulations, not to mention laws and street signs? Please don't misunderstand; it's not that I wanted him to fail, I just wasn't certain I would survive if he passed. Perhaps this is a milestone shared by both parent and child. Of course, when our kids are younger and safely past the stage where they are tempted to stick all manner of objects in electrical outlets and love nothing more than to run out the front door toward the street, we forget that in a few short years, those electrical socket fears will look like a walk in the park. We know that someday learning to drive a car will become a new challenge to conquer, but it's sort of like scheduling a trip to the dentist for that much-dreaded, but necessary, root canal. For a while, if the dentist is particularly overbooked, it seems in the distant future and "eventually" feels like a really long time away. However, time doesn't wait around until we feel prepared or ready to face a new challenge. Those calendar days keep flying right off the wall, even when we don't seem to notice them, and last month, the calendar declared that my son was ready to take the test for a permit that will allow him to get behind the wheel of a very powerful machine. I can feel the gray hairs materializing as I type! To be fair, I won't deny that I'm proud of my son for passing this initial test. I can't help but bask in the delight of his palpable sense of accomplishment. I also must tell you that I have a renewed and sincere respect for all adults who work in a driving school and muster the courage, patience and fortitude to teach beginning drivers the rudimentary lessons of operating a motor vehicle. Surely they must be made of all manner of stern stuff! In the past few days, Justin and I have been out on the highway, and I'm impressed as he buckles up, adjusts his mirrors and makes certain everything is in order before turning on the ignition. He seems to realize that driving a car is a very serious issue and I'm proud of how he's handled himself on our initial forays onto busy streets. He's done nothing so far that has elicited so much as a scream from me. We both seem to realize that this is a huge turning point in our lives, and his progress is amazing. I'm reminded that growth is measured not only in terms of height and weight but also in the number of miles one drives. I must tell you that every now and then when I glance over and see this son of mine behind the wheel, I have a catch in my throat. Not because I don't think he's capable of the task at hand, but because I am taken aback at the warp speed with which "eventually" finally arrives. The other night, after kissing him goodnight, I paused and stared at the door with the lines marking the heights of children that must surely be adults by now. I briefly considered staining over those lines but decided against it. For some reason, I like seeing them, even though I will probably never meet those kids. I'd like to imagine that perhaps they not only grew taller in this home, but experienced many of the same things I'm living with my own two teen-agers. Those marks on the door remind me that even though each child's life is so wonderfully different and unique, our experiences are universal. Readers can e-mail Susie Parker at Susiewrites@gmail.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
Single...With Children: What Is The Definition Of A Heroine?
| Single With Children: People overlook the everyday heroines By Susie Parker Publication Date: 03/27/02 First of all, thanks to everyone who e-mailed me with kind words over the recent health scare with my dad. Each one was a blessing to me, and I have kept all of them in a special folder that I will dip into from time to time when I need comfort. It reminded me of the innate kindness of readers. My 18-year-old daughter informed me the other day that March is "Women's History Month." I was not aware of this. Katie was not only aware but also more than a little unhappy that I was ignorant of the fact. I could tell this because she fixed me with one of those "what planet have you been living on?" looks. I get that a lot and most of the time with good reason. She went to the periodicals section of the bookstore searching out stories in magazines celebrating her most revered feminine heroines and icons. She came out empty-handed and incensed. There's very little gray area when it comes to Katie. She's highly opinionated, passionate in her interests and not the least bit shy about sharing them with anyone. I have to admit I love this quality. Over a cup of tea, she regaled me with what she termed a short list of all the women who should be honored in some form this month. At first, I only politely listened. However, Katie taught me that history isn't simply about the men who wrote and signed the U.S. Constitution, the man who discovered the vaccination for polio, or even the hardscrabble pioneers heading West in the 1800s to stake a claim on an unknown future. She introduced me to women who have made a huge impact with their lives. Women like Lucretia Mott, Alice Coachman, Empress Wu Zetian, Anna Comnena, Jeanne d'Arc, Delores Huerta, Elizabeth I, Mbande Nzinga, Amelia Earhart, Eleanor Roosevelt, Anne Hutchinson, Sally Ride, Mother Theresa, Susette La Flesche, Georgia O'Keeffe, Ella Grasso, Sara and Angelina Grimke, Dorothy Height, Antonia Novello, Katharine Graham, Emily Dickinson, Dorothea Dix, Elizabeth Blackwell, Gwendolyn Brooks, Jane Addams, Indira Gandhi, Valentina Tereshkova, Anne Frank, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Golda Meir, Willa Cather and Frida Kahlo...just to name a "few." How did she know all of this by the age 18, I wondered? And not only could she list these women, she gave me a brief, concise bio on each of them. I was impressed and suddenly realized why she felt so impassioned and disappointed that there wasn't more attention paid to their varied contributions. As we continued the discussion, I started thinking of all of the women I have met in my own life who have awed and amazed me. People I've unwittingly met on this path that is my life and who have touched my existence with their presence, making my walk more illuminated, safe, colorful and just plain fun. Haven't we all met women who have done that for us? There have been so many teachers, nurses, doctors, writers, administrators and the list goes on. And right along with the women who have possessed the highest of professional degrees and certifications, I have been equally touched by a secretary in an office who offered me comfort and support when I was preparing for a meeting I didn't want to attend. The woman at the pharmacy who always fills my prescriptions and warms my heart with her consideration and quick wit. There is the quiet, but irresistibly smiling woman in the passport office who, after five minutes of conversation in which we realized we lived within blocks of each other, and even after handing me a form with a list of documents I couldn't help but laugh at, was to become one of my very best friends in this world. I thought I was going in to get official documents so that I could take my kids to France. I never imagined I would come out with the even more valuable bonus of a friendship that is rich, deep and precious to this day. She's the kind of friend you can call up at 3 a.m. and say, "Hey, I've got a crisis here. Can you meet me in Kansas City?" and will be there without batting an eyelash. Everyone needs at least one friend like that, even if she does require official birth certificates with the seals! Extraordinary women can come in many forms and probably none that have impacted my life will ever make it onto some illustrious list such as the one Katie presented me with. The thing of it is that they don't have to possess membership on some elite roster of "Famous Women" in order to make a difference. It simply isn't required. Perhaps the women on my daughter's list had a venue that allowed their contributions and talents exposure to a greater number of people. That's a wonderful thing but not, I reminded Katie, the most impressive thing. There is a vast quantity of women in of our spheres who perform the amazing feat of working, taking great and tender care of their children, making themselves available for all manner of extracurricular scholastic events. They can recognize a frown and take the time to listen and work at making it a smile, and never let their kids fall asleep without the reassurance of being loved by delivering a hug, a kiss and a shared prayer. They don't seek out a spotlight and, in fact, wouldn't imagine a fuss being made over what they consider their everyday, routine lives. You probably don't have to work too hard to recall one of these amazing females. When you do, why not take the extra time to tell them that they truly are making an important difference? A kind word, a pat on the back, even an unexpected bunch of daisies, doesn't require a lot from any of us, but it can mean the world to someone that doesn't have the time to realize how truly special they are. In fact, it doesn't even have to be March for you to do this. Readers can e-mail Susie at Susiewrites@gmail.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
Single...With Children: Every Heartbeat Is A Blessing
| Single with Children: Life can change in the time of a heartbeat By SUSIE PARKER Opinion Publication Date: 03/13/02 One of the most amazing things about life is how, in the space of a few seconds, "normal" can look so darned precious. It can change from ordinary to unrecognizable in the time it takes a heart to beat or, in my own recent experience, not to beat, at least not in the way it's supposed to. As many of you know, I share my house not only with two active teen-agers but also my parents, who are in their late 70s. Every now and then I am confronted with the realization that it could change on a dime. I think all of us know this, but somehow we are able to get through each day not really THINKING about what might be just around the corner. On a late Wednesday night a couple of weeks ago, my life turned that corner and I found myself on a street I didn't want to be exploring. I was reading in my upstairs bedroom when I heard someone ascending the staircase and looked up to find my mom telling me that we had a problem. Dad was experiencing chest pains, the kind that radiate down the left arm, and he also felt like a Sumo wrestler was sitting on his chest. I went from groggy to wide-eyed awake inside of a second. I quickly was dialing the three numbers we all know to call in a crisis, but never dream we will really have to use. Within minutes, the front yard was aglow with the lighting of an ambulance and fire truck. We needed the paramedics, but not the firemen. In trooped three men, hooking up my suddenly frail looking father to machines I'd only seen used on reruns of ER. I desperately wished I could find the remote and change the channel of this unfolding drama. But this wasn't television; this was my real life. Of course, all of the noise and lights woke up both the kids, who looked as shocked and alarmed as I felt. Mother was watching silently. I was staring, deer in the headlights style, trying to figure out if this was truly happening or was simply a bad dream while Dad, the star of this medical maelstrom, was his usual calm, charming self. He was chatting up the men who came in to take care of him. The paramedics determined he needed to be in the hospital, and Mom quickly accepted an invitation to ride in the cab ambulance with the driver. Katie and Justin were recovering from an especially nasty bout of the flu, so I stayed behind and did my best to emote an "everything will be just fine" demeanor that was convincing to no one at all. After I got the kids back in bed, I sat at my desk, phone at the ready for information and updates. "How can this be happening?" my brain kept screaming, finding no logical explanation. I felt pathetically alone, alternating between possible outcomes and praying that the worst wouldn't materialize. I kept looking at the phone, wishing I had some magic spell I could use to conjure up a sibling or two, someone as deeply involved in this drama as I was, who could fly in at a moment's notice and would hug me or take my hand and tell me everything was going to be just fine, just like my parents used to do when I was small and afraid and needed reassurance. It was a very long night. Mom called again at 4:10 to announce that in spite of the doctor's reluctance, Dad could come home. Apparently, he had convinced the doctor we lived very close to the hospital and the pain had stabilized. She cheerily told me I could pick them up at around 4:30 a.m. This was one time I wished Dad wasn't so charming. He should be in ICU instead of his bedroom! What were these people thinking? I drove down a mostly empty street to find Mom and Dad coming out of the ER. They looked exhausted but unbelievably calm. We made it home, and Dad climbed into bed. Of course, more doctor visits were scheduled for the next few days and a rather grueling stress test was on his agenda. Life hasn't quite returned to normal and the verdict is still out on the exact cause of this cardiac episode. I hate unknowns more than definitive diagnoses. I wanted concrete answers that didn't exist. As with so many passages in life, even the ones that are frightening beyond measure, blessings shine so bright that you can't help but notice and embrace them. My 15-year-old son has become so kind and thoughtful that it sometimes makes me cry. My daughter, who was going away with her boyfriend for the always nerve-racking "meeting of the parents," called me more times than I could count to check on her much beloved Pops, always reminding me that she could be home in short order should things go in a direction we dared not speak of. Perhaps the most astonishing, breathtaking performance out of this health crisis appeared from my 78-year-old Mother. This is a woman who professes to hate our cats but can be caught feeding them and checking on them when she thinks something is askew. We sometimes refer to her as "Sarge" because she's fairly outspoken and not the least bit shy about stating her stance on any given issue. Suffice it to say that she is our family's version of Barbara Bush, and she proved once again that she is one of the strongest, most compassionate people I will ever meet. She was up early, making coffee, creating great dinners and moving right along with her routine. She called it therapy. I found it to be grace in action. I'd seen this steel resolve and resilience in action before; through the death of my sister, my own painful divorce and the recent loss of her brother, but it was magnificently displayed during this recent health scare. She was upbeat, calm and so poignantly tender that it almost took my breath away. She had to have been so scared to imagine losing the man she's been so blissfully married to for more than 55 years, but instead of requiring reassurance and comfort, she generously dispensed it. Faith, no doubt, has a lot to do with it, but there's something indefinable about this woman. No doubt these same unique qualities are the ones that drew my father to her so many years ago. How wise he was to have detected this. How fortunate we were that he did. I won't pretend to have always agreed with my mom on every issue, but I've always respected her strength and passion for the things she cares most about. She puts her family first. She had no time for hand wringing or needless pontification, and she did what she does best. She held down the emotional fort and allowed the rest of us to wring our hands, silently reminding us that whatever happens, we would be up to the challenge. She remains the definitive guide and steering mechanism for what I have come to recognize as the best that we can be. How blessed we are to have this steely resolve on our side. I can only humbly say "thanks Mom." You did it just right. Readers can e-mail Susie at Susiewrites@gmail.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
Single...With Children: Marriage Is More Than A Dress Rehearsal!
| Single with Children: 'Starter marriage' disappointing concept By SUSIE PARKER Opinion Publication Date: 02/27/02 I was reading a review the other day about a book that was being hailed as the definitive study of people who jump into a marriage lasting five or fewer years, only to find it was a mistake and, perhaps, nothing more than a dress rehearsal for the "real" thing, which will eventually come along. You must know by now that I had to buy this book. There was no way around it. I was much too intrigued. So now I'm halfway through this "study" and find I'm shaking my head and asking questions for which there appear to be no answers. Sometimes, I tend to extrapolate and ask questions that this book, this "study" was never intended to answer, but I have never been successful in quieting my mind and, much like my dogs or even my kids do from time to time, my mind tends to ignore me when I implore it to be still. I have to be honest with you. The whole "starter marriage" concept disappoints me. It feels like matrimony is getting the "let's pretend this didn't happen" treatment. Sort of like when you hit a golf ball and it drifts so far into the rough that you would need the world's largest magnifying glass to have a prayer of finding it, finally realizing it's not worth the effort or trouble so you allow yourself a "mulligan" or a "do over." Hey, it's only a golf ball, right? Let's just pretend you never played that first ball and start fresh. In fact, it won't even have to count on the score card! That might be fine for a friendly game of golf among pals, but as a person who has been through the process of divorce once, which was one time more than I ever imagined, the treatment of marriage in this study feels dangerously disposable. What I keep wondering is this; does that mean that all first marriages are excused even though the vows are the same ones that couples take who truly mean business and intend to work toward that elusive 25th or 50th wedding anniversary? Do these couples kind of wink their way through the ceremony so as not to be confused with being truly serious and quietly whisper, "you know this isn't for real, right? Remember, keep your fingers crossed. It won't really count!" And what, pray tell, happens if a baby, who hasn't read this book, makes its appearance before the five-year cutoff date, not realizing this wasn't the "real thing?" Do these kids now become "starter kids" only to be tossed away when the divorce decree is granted? Does someone run in and tell the child, "Hey, sorry kiddo, we were just pretending. Have a great life!" Okay, perhaps I'm a little sensitive, but when I read something that demeans or detracts from the sacredness of an institution that's taken its share of knocks throughout the years, it makes me sad. The irony of it all may be that I'm even more protective of marriage because my own didn't last for what I imagined would be forever. However, even though my marriage didn't go the distance, it wasn't the institution of matrimony that failed me at all. My marital demise was due to human errors, and the blame was not in any way one-sided. There was plenty to go around. If the truth be told, my ex-husband and I failed marriage. Marriage didn't fail us. I guess what it all comes down to for me is that someday, when my own children are contemplating the very serious and sacred business of marriage, I would still love for them to believe deep within their own hearts that it is meant to last until "death do us part." I don't want them to believe that some lame excuse or bad patch of days means they were rehearsing for the real thing to come at some point in the future. My personal hope is that they never have to remember the day their divorce became final. I'd so much rather they just keep celebrating one wonderful anniversary after the other. As for me, if I ever make another attempt and find myself repeating those important vows again, I will do so even more humbly. I will go into it knowing many of the pitfalls and hardships that can threaten to throw the most committed people off course and I will be resolute in doing everything possible to avoid them. Even with all of the that, there is never, ever a guarantee of success and happiness, but you can bet I will be even more determined to live up to the expectations and responsibilities marriage demands. I want to not only be up for the challenges but also prepared to overcome whatever obstacles I will inevitably encounter. By now you've guessed that I don't believe in the concept of "starter marriages" or "starter children." I can't help but believe this is something that was dreamed up to make us feel that we didn't really fail anything. I find it absurd. I maintain my belief that people make mistakes and divorces happen, unfortunately. We need to accept the responsibility, acknowledge our errors and then move forward, hopefully with a lot more wisdom and no bitterness. Whatever children may result from the first or even second marriage must never be thought of or looked upon as mistakes or ill-timed events. Children are neither of those things. They are incredible gifts to be cherished, nurtured and loved. A failed marriage must never mean a failed family. There's absolutely no rationalization that ever makes that OK. Readers can e-mail Susie Parker at Susiewrites@gmail.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
Single...With Children: ADD: It Isn't Just For Kids
| Single with Children: Sometimes, parents develop ADD By Susie Parker Opinion Publication Date: 02/13/02 Everyone with a child has heard the initials "ADD" tossed around, and, every now and then, most parents feel their offspring might have, at the very least, a slight case of Attention Deficit Disorder because it seems that what we tell our children goes in one ear and right out the other. There's even controversy as to whether the diagnosis is made in haste and whether some students are taking unnecessary medication for a syndrome they don't truly have. This past weekend, I was multi-tasking. I had to be at my office for four hours on Saturday afternoon. I had dry cleaning that needed to be picked up. I had long overdue business phone calls to return. You know the kind of day, where everything has to be done either immediately or yesterday. I got most of the things on my "to do" list accomplished and felt pretty pleased by the time I got home from work; however, it would seem that in the midst of trying to tie up loose ends, I unwittingly developed "ADD" and allowed something to fall through the cracks. I failed to pay attention to a developing issue with my daughter. Apparently Katie had tried several times to discuss with me her idea of attending a university closer to home. She wanted me to listen and be her sounding board. I talked to her several times from work that Saturday, and I saw her that evening, briefly. I even ran into her on Sunday at the bookstore, having a cappuccino with her best friend. Everything seemed fine on the surface. She's a busy senior, dating a wonderful young man and is usually either coming or going someplace. I got most of the things on my "to do" list accomplished and felt pretty pleased by the time I got home from work; however, it would seem that in the midst of trying to tie up loose ends, I unwittingly developed "ADD" and allowed something to fall through the cracks. I failed to pay attention to a developing issue with my daughter. Apparently Katie had tried several times to discuss with me her idea of attending a university closer to home. She wanted me to listen and be her sounding board. I talked to her several times from work that Saturday, and I saw her that evening, briefly. I even ran into her on Sunday at the bookstore, having a cappuccino with her best friend. Everything seemed fine on the surface. She's a busy senior, dating a wonderful young man and is usually either coming or going someplace. I had assumed that the choice of where she would go to school had been settled. I was under the impression that her mind was fully made up. I was, of course, wrong. She had decided to apply to a school closer to home, closer to her friends, her boyfriend included, and she needed to discuss this decision with a mother who wasn't multi-tasking all over the place and who was attending to the serious business of doing nothing more complicated than merely paying attention. I dropped the ball. At first, she didn't let me know of my failure. But her attitude certainly reflected we had a chasm between us because she wasn't her normal self. She was very quiet. She looked as if someone had hurt her feelings and, in fact, someone had. Someone who should have known better. On Monday, I got the silent treatment or, at best, a few polite exchanges. After I came home from work on Tuesday, she was in the kitchen, and we were alone in the house (a rarity in and of itself). I had been bothered by her change in behavior and it seemed like a good time to talk about it. I offered to fix some lunch and she agreed. While we were eating, the mistake I had made became obvious. I asked her why she didn't call me on my cell phone. Her reply was that this wasn't a cell phone kind of conversation. When I realized the depth to which she felt this slight, I apologized and told her I had apparently suffered a temporary case of parental ADD. As is usual with Katie, she was most forgiving and understanding, now that our collective cards were on the table. We talked at length about her academic decision, weighing the pros and cons, and after about half an hour, over decaf and soup, we had made real progress. We both felt relieved to have deflated the tension between us. We mused on how busy our lives have become but also how much more important it was to sometimes really connect, even when life is pulling us in different directions. I was reminded that simply because she is 18, a senior, and for all intents and purposes, an adult, she is still my daughter and still has needs that only I can truly fulfill. I must admit it's nice to be needed, because there are days that I feel about as important as a doorman watching people come and go. I was reminded that I still serve other, important functions and that sometimes, my presence cannot be substituted or delayed. I still marvel at how fast they grow up, how soon they become independent and how fast time marches on, but I learned this past weekend that I am still a required and necessary entity with more to contribute than the usual "clean your room!" or "clean out the cat litter box!" As you might imagine, I intend to pay much closer attention even when, on the surface, things look as if they're rocking along just fine. Thank you, Katie, for another lesson. Readers can e-mail Susie Parker at Susiewrites@gmail.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
Single...With Children: Don't Forget, It's About The Kids
| Single with Children: Parents can resolve visitation conflicts if they focus on kids By Susie Parker Opinion Publication Date: 01/23/02 Thanks to everyone who shared their stories with me on the touchy concept of noncustodial visitation. The feedback was important and helpful in illuminating what I always knew to be true; divorced parents can make the very best out of this situation when both parents focus on what's best for the children that will forever connect them. Some of the responses astounded me with the creativity used in ensuring that the children involved received the best of both worlds. It is an emotional issue, but hoping it will disappear is not only unrealistic but exacerbates the stress of a tense situation. I applaud the parents who work to make it work, and I pray that the ones struggling through it will find the best solutions. I welcome more input and look forward to more response on this, or any other, subject. January has always been a difficult month for me. Winter is only one-third of the way spent, and I confess to being a spring/summer kind of person. I am pining for days filled with warmth and late sunsets. I even miss thunderstorms. I miss the swimming, the green leaves on the trees and, believe it or not, the occasional sunburn and extra freckles. I think one reason for the "winter doldrums" is that the time inside offers me more time to think, which inevitably lends itself to more things to worry about and obsess over. Hey, it comes with the territory. I find myself in the middle of plans that don't require my inclusion. My daughter is blissfully looking forward to her first day of college in August. My son is enrolled in driver's education. I'm turning 42 next month. How could the three of us arrive at this stage? If time truly flies, and I'm thinking that it does, I'd love to know how to clip its wings. I'm the person who supposedly has most of the answers, but sometimes I feel more like the person with the most questions. It seems like just a couple of years ago I was walking the floor with a son who was screaming because of an earache that came on, as most ear infections do, in the middle of the night. In a few short weeks, this "infant" will be asking for the car keys, going on dates. I'll still be walking the floor, only this time I'll be doing it alone. I don't mean to complain. It is, after all, the natural progression of things. My son is following the path that will allow him to become an independent man in a few years. And I wonder what it will be like packing my daughter up for a university six hours away from home. Again, I knew this would eventually happen; I just didn't realize how fast "eventually" would arrive. Wasn't it just a few years ago that she was grasping jumbo crayons and practicing her alphabet? How can it be she's working on a senior project? I constantly wonder if I've covered the major points. Have I imparted the right wisdom? Have I demonstrated the importance of compassion and doing the right thing, even when the wrong thing is the easiest route? The dialogue among the three of us runs the gamut. It never fails to entertain and inspire me. We sit around and talk about anything and everything, but I find they don't have as much time for it now that they have the typical teen-age interests. It feels as if the "future" is knocking on my door and I'd love to keep it at bay for at least another 10 years. That's not reasonable or realistic. Life and time marches right now. The theme these days has to do with one word: Grace. In these action-packed days of high school, I yearn for as much grace as I can find. The dictionary speaks of grace as an "unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification." I'll be the first to admit that I am not close to meriting the grace I seek, but seek it I continue to do. In looking back on my own parenting experience, and each one is both unique and universal, I have come to realize there are no unimportant parts. Each stage of a child's life requires skills that many of us, as parents, don't even realize we possess. Somehow we accomplish amazing things. As our children grow older and become involved in many activities outside of the home, our opportunities to remain an active, positive force become more brief but even more important because. Like it or not, the stage is being set for our kids to test their new wings of independence. I wake up every day to try to be someone with sensitive ears and eyes and someone my kids can come to and discuss anything and everything. The best communication is open not only to talking but also to listening. Monologues are for talk show hosts. Dialogues work best for families. Sometimes we agree on issues and sometimes we don't. At times the issues aren't life affecting but at this stage, many of them can become life forming. I want to get it right and sometimes I wish there was someone else I could pass off the hard questions, tough decisions and wisdom requiring answers to, because I'm not always certain that I'm getting it right. That's where the quest for grace comes in and somehow, it works out. Good communication not only requires dialogue but also requires respect. I work hard not only to merit the respect of my teen-agers, but also to let them know I respect their voices, their opinions and their feelings. I find that a mutual respect keeps the door to dialogue open. Being a single parent can be a lonely business at times. It was never a situation I aspired to or could have imagined. Grace, constant dialogue and mutual respect make the road a lot less bumpy and the journey much more enjoyable. I accept that I am the point person. I just keep hoping I'm hitting the right points. It's true that parenting isn't for wimps, but I can't imagine anything more important, more rewarding and fulfilling. Even on those days that I simply don't have all the answers. And perhaps, in fact, that's why God created grace. Readers can e-mail Susie Parker at Susiewrites@gmail.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
Single...With Children: Is It Worth A Fight?
| Single with Children: Some have to fight to stay involved By Susie Parker Opinion Publication Date: 01/09/02 There are many aspects of the holiday season that are wonderfully warm and more than a few moments that can melt your heart. Last week, however, I received an e-mail from someone reminding me of a topic I have seriously neglected discussing. It wasn't that I went out of my way to avoid it, I just needed someone to help me try and understand what life for a noncustodial parent might feel like - because, for every welcome reunion between fathers and the children they rarely see, there is always a gut-wrenching goodbye a few days later. This e-mail, in fact, came not from a divorced father but a married father of two who is an adult child of divorce and is, at present, dealing with his own marital discord. This reader expressed the angst of possibly losing his place in the lives of his two young daughters, saying, "Of course, should we spilt, as a man, I'll lose my girls and not have the comfort you seem to take for granted." He went on to say, "The clock and the calendar indicate that we are nearly 50/50 in time spent and care given. I am a parent." I couldn't ignore or push aside any of the things he shared from his experience. It gave me a peek to the other side of the parental fence and offered an important, vastly different, perspective. I also have a dear friend, a divorced father, who has spent tens of thousands of dollars for the chance to see his children more often than every other weekend and one day a week. I always knew this was a difficult situation for him. But I never really took the time to think about how it must feel to have to pay attorneys copious amounts of money to earn the right to remain an active part of the lives of the children who are a part of him. I'd never really given serious thought to any of this because, in my own situation, it was never really an issue. I had an ex-husband who moved often, and we always knew that it would be impossible for our children to follow him as his career took him to different parts of the country. But I'm discovering that this isn't the norm. I'm realizing that many members of broken families do stay in the same city, sometimes within miles of each other. As I considered the limited options of many fathers facing this dilemma - and the fertile breeding ground it creates for animosity between ex-spouses - I realized it must feel terribly unfair to have to fight and pay for the right to be more involved. In fact, a lot of really wonderful fathers out there must feel pretty beat up when it's all finished and they're relegated to becoming, many times, a shadow in the lives of the children they helped bring into this world and love with all their hearts. The fact of the matter is that our court system usually grants the mother primary custody, and I'm not going to deny that I'm thrilled and blessed to have the opportunity to live with and see my children most of the year. However, as the reader's e-mail pointed out, I probably take this reality for granted. I tried hard to imagine what it would feel like to have to schedule visits with the children I saw born in the delivery room, who share my DNA, and to whom I used to have 24/7 access. I have to be honest. As hard as I might try to understand, I can't really "know" what that experience feels like because I haven't lived it. I must tell you, however, that it would make me miserable to have to consider trying to deal with such circumstances. I know I wouldn't be a very happy person. So what is the right answer? I know from my own childhood that fathers are an integral and essential part of the parenting equation. I can't imagine what it would have felt like to only see my own dad on alternate weekends and a couple of extra days a month. Even the best and most dedicated fathers can't pack two weeks' worth of parenting into two weekends a month. It's simply an impossibility. There are so many questions about how to make this work, and the answers seem awfully sparse, grossly inadequate and, yes, even unfair. I know many custodial mothers who generously share parenting time with the fathers of their children. But I also know many who seem bitter at the very idea of giving up anything, even if it would be in the child's best interest. It's a very complicated question, and because of the conflict involved between divorcing parties, resolution can be a very elusive but, I still believe, attainable goal. Feelings are hurt, hearts are broken, and families get bruised. Many times, the best of intentions get tossed out the window because of the pain involved. The result is that many wonderful, dedicated, loving fathers lose an absolutely vital place in the lives of their children. There are no easy answers, just ever so many questions. I have no doubt that, not only do the fathers suffer from this injustice, but, of course, their children as well. I'd like to hear from more parents about how they handle this delicate issue. I would like to know how solutions are found and matters are settled fairly, to everyone's satisfaction. I'd also like to say that, if you find yourself in this type of situation, in which "time with Dad" is a matter of contention, as hard as it may be - and I know it can be very hard to overcome personal pain - remember children thrive from being tended by both people who brought them into the world. A child needs the wisdom, attention and love that fathers provide just as they need those things from the mothers with whom they usually live. When our children grow into adulthood, their family albums should contain many happy photos not only of adventures and times spent with Mom, but with Dad as well. It's worth whatever you have to do to make that happen. Balance is difficult to achieve but so essential in raising our children to reach their full, glorious potential. Readers can e-mail Susie at Susiewrites@gmail.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
Single...With Children: Here's To The Past, With An Eye To The Future!
| Single with Children: Finding the personal bright spots By Susie Parker Opinion Publication Date: 12/26/01 By now the presents have been opened and the space underneath the tree looks strikingly bare. It never ceases to amaze me how much time it can take to prepare for an event that takes what feels like mere minutes to finish off. Maybe it's a lot like all of the hours involved in preparing Thanksgiving dinner and watching all of that lovingly tended food disappear. Here we are, staring a brand new year straight in the face. I always find the days between Christmas and New Year's fertile ground for reflection. I try and remember all of the highlights, the not to be missed moments that occurred in the previous 12 months. It's usually not too difficult to find many bright spots. Of course, in any given year, there are a few things that happened that we otherwise would rather forget, but in my own experience, the highlights most always win out. I remind myself that if my family is enjoying good health and reasonable grades and I'm still familiar with the sound of laughter that echoes quite often throughout my home, I have absolutely no room to complain and many reasons to give thanks. Everything else is icing. We've had a lot of icing this year. As a nation, the United States was reminded of its vulnerability following the events of Sept. 11. We, as Americans, were literally and figuratively stunned, but as I glance outside my window and see so many flags waving on homes, cars and bikes, I can't remember feeling more pride in this country that is my home. What a lesson in resilience this experience has taught each of us on so many levels. How amazingly unified we have become. On a more personal level, my own small family has had much to celebrate. My daughter was accepted to the university she applied for and is happily looking forward to her first year of college. My son has maintained his zeal for skateboarding, reached new grade heights in math and made it through the year requiring only five stitches and a tetanus shot. My parents are still going strong and can outwit all of us, though I'm sad to report my mother is still not fond of our four cats. One must accept a few defeats, I suppose. My own life has taken some interesting twists and unimaginable turns in the past few months. A few I have worked diligently to attain with the added caveat of being taught what it means to "do your homework," which I found no more interesting than my kids do. In spite of the rather stale subject matter, I emerged with a sense of having finished what I started. That felt both vaguely familiar and awfully good. It most definitely taught me to be more supportive and understanding when I see Katie and Justin wade into school work they would just as soon set aside. On a personal note, I have met someone that has made the last three months of this year incredibly surprising and wonderful. It would seem that four years past a painful divorce, my heart is still capable of skipping a beat. Of course, it's a new experience and one that I am both enjoying and learning from. Now, even in the quirky experience that is my life, I never imagined I'd be dating when my kids were teen-agers. The funniest part is exchanging dating stories with my daughter as we compare notes on how our respective evenings went. It's an interesting perspective to be on both ends of the spectrum as the parent of a teen-age daughter who is clearly smitten with a young man AND finding my own path as an adult who has been single for four years. I don't feel so much that I am juggling, even though I probably am. Balance is a new concept I'm seeking to understand and achieve. Like most situations, humor paves a lot of bumpy patches on this new road we three are traveling. I am, first and most happily, a mother who has enjoyed every second of this parental ride, and I constantly remind my kids that nothing will change their place in my life. It requires understanding on the part of everyone involved and this is something I was always a little wary of, thinking it all seemed too complicated and impossible to maintain. When someone asks me how the future looks, I'm generally pleased to reply that today is just fine and that's more than enough for me. It's both fun and a little scary to look forward to what 2002 might hold in store for us, but as we say good-bye to 2001, I am thankful that we are well, we are happy and we are together. I've often found that examining the past too closely can make me afraid to move forward, while looking too far ahead can cause me to miss something happening right in front of my eyes. Since all we can really rely on is today, I'm grateful for the collection of "todays" that 2001 has afforded me. As each of you look forward to the new year, please know that I wish all of you many more smiles than tears, loads of shining moments, challenges that stretch you but don't come close to breaking you. Whether you're dealing with an infant crying from emerging new teeth, a toddler that didn't get the memo that the "terrible 2s" should be over by age 4, or a preadolescent aspiring to be a teen-ager who believes himself to be a savvy twentysomething, even on those days that seem never to end you will turn around and find them preparing to head for college. Believe it or not, you will miss those times when you thought your patience was more than a little spent. For the longest time, I thought the adage "they grow up so fast" was written by someone who had never had kids, but I can honestly attest that it's astonishing at how fast it all flies. Maybe the best advice is to try not to blink too often, because if you do, you're bound to miss something, and believe me, parenting children, whether single or married, is the very best definition of the ultimate "don't miss." Readers can e-mail Susie at Suzyp2660@aol.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
Single...With Children: Chevy Chase Has Nothing On Me!
| Single With Children: Mom faces fear of heights with humor By Susie Parker Opinion Publication Date: 12/12/01 Last year, I have to admit, I didn't give it my best effort. I tried to squeeze by with the least possible work. It wasn't impressive. No one walking down my street would have given it a second glance. I had a litany of excuses at the ready, covering everything from "just getting settled in a new home" to "this is really a contemporary style home and that makes it so much more difficult to work with." I used everything but "the dog ate my homework." The fact of the matter is that last Christmas will forever go down as the Christmas Mom dropped the "exterior illumination" ball...I mean, bulb. This past Sunday, if you were anywhere within earshot of my home (and Sunday afternoon, this could have been miles away...given the volume), you no doubt heard me attempting to hang up Christmas lights while hanging on to my life. I dreaded it from the beginning. Everyone has a fear. For some it's monsters. Others might feel fright at the mere mention of a dentist's drill. The thing that spells P-A-N-I-C for me, is the slanted roof of a two story house. I have to admit that even typing that sentence made me hyperventilate just the tiniest bit. I even considered employing someone to take on the job, or hey, how about Katie's 6-foot 5-inch boyfriend? He'd hardly need a ladder! But no, Justin was quick to remind me, I had to face this with him. He cajoled, encouraged and finally threatened me with the prospect of facing yet another whole year of nonstop talk involving how I chickened out. No, no, no, I couldn't take that. I put on my most ragged pair of jeans, donned my baseball cap and screwed on what little courage I possessed, then faced Justin's open window, which I not so affectionately dubbed "the portal to my death," leading to the dreaded roof. Tentatively, gingerly, I faced my nemesis and slowly swung out to where there was nothing more between me and the front yard except about 20 feet. Actually, I was juggling two fears and that's not an easy thing to do. I was afraid of losing my grip, figuratively and literally, and rolling off onto the concrete walk that leads up to our front door, and I was equally, if not more, terrified of witnessing Justin doing the same. It was hard to know how to proceed because I was nearly frozen to the point of being unable to move. I scanned my environment for something to grab onto should some confluence of events lead to the disaster I was so certain was looming in my immediate future. It was at about this time that everything parental and any leadership qualities I might possess were nowhere to be found. I am told that the first words out of my mouth after a couple of steps were "Justin, we are going to DIE! Do you know that? We are going to die and the cause of death will be trauma due to putting up Christmas lights. Are you AWARE of that because I just want you to know that I'm pretty darn sure that both of us are NOT going to survive this!" In recounting his "take" on what occurred, he said there was much more inflection in my voice...that, and the observation he had never really seen my eyes bulge out to the degree they did. He wishes it had been videotaped. I'm thankful, deeply thankful, that it wasn't. This is also about the time I learned Justin has a real sense of comic timing and knows how to use it. There I was, terrified, and he started reciting lines from movies that he knows will make me giggle. He then launched into the story he's going to share with his children and grandchildren about the day his mother mentally "lost it" one Sunday afternoon in December of 2001. I can't remember laughing so hard. In fact, I was nearly bent over, which wasn't really a bad thing as it made for a lower center of gravity. Also, I couldn't really see over the edge as well. I experienced, firsthand, how laughter diffuses tension, and let me tell you, I was tense. He directed me, untangling lines and popping out bad bulbs and before I knew it, we had made it all the way across the entire front of the house. No one fell. The paramedics could relax. The house was gloriously illuminated, and I can't remember having more fun. After we finished the upstairs, we headed downstairs and with the aid of a ladder and more of Justin's "impressions of Mum spazzing out on the roof," we were soon standing back, Clark Griswold style, admiring a very twinkling, two story, contemporary house. I was grateful that it occurred without incident and tragedy. I was even more blessed to have shared it with my 15-year-old son. It was a magic time that had nothing at all to do with "chasing lights" or extension cords. The real lesson Justin so lovingly taught me was that it's OK to be afraid, in fact, have some fun with it! Be a little absurd and even dare to wink at it. There is no doubt in my mind that his recollection of this event will be recounted someday when I'm a very old woman and he's a father to his own tribe of kids, begging him to get the house ready for Christmas. I would venture to say he might even embellish just a bit, as people often do when recounting past events, but that's fine. It's what becomes a legend, right? When I went to sleep Sunday night, already sore from muscles that were more tense than strained, I had a deep sense of satisfaction and couldn't help but smile at our collective antics. Life is filled with many moments that can only be qualifed as "don't miss." This past Sunday, for me, was an absolute "don't miss." I'm so grateful I didn't. Readers can e-mail Susie at Susiewrites@gmail.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
Single...With Children: Holiday Hurdles!
| Single with Children: Holiday season will test a mother's faith By Susie Parker Opinion Publication Date: 11/28/01 Thanksgiving is over, and I'm sure most of us have had our fill of turkey, leftover dressing, and pumpkin pie. This is the time of year I like to think of as a chance to don my magician's wand and make the impossible possible, or, at the very least, probable! Moms and Dads do that on a regular basis;we just get more of a challenge during those fleeting post-Thanksgiving/pre-Christmas days. And here we are. The real challenge during this time is the extra balls we juggle into our already full rotation. We work to make paychecks stretch so that "must have" presents appear. Then, there are the impromptu holiday gatherings. And just when we think we've covered all our bases and have completed our shopping lists, someone appears at the door with a gift that wasn't anticipated. That's why, along with giving thanks for things like family, health, friends and, this year especially, peace on earth, we're grateful for 24-hour discount stores. And, of course, there is the decorating. I've backed off from the days when I must have looked like Chevy Chase in "Christmas Vacation," but I still feel incomplete without a little exterior illumination. And because confession is good for the soul, I also admit that anyone who receives a gift from me of something edible can be certain I had nothing to do with its preparation. I've long since gotten over that guilt. I've even rationalized it to the point that I'm doing myself and the intended recipient an extra favor, in that baking is simply not one of my talents. I save time and they save a trip to the emergency room. It's a win-win situation! I've done the "Single Mother Christmas" gig for five years now, and I'm less intimidated than I was in the beginning, but there's no way around it...even with the experience I have, it's still a formidable task. As most custodial parents know, holidays usually entail travel, and this one will be no different. However, because of the actions of a handful of terrorists, I will confront an extra dose of anxiety. My ex-husband called earlier this month to ask how I would feel if Justin flew out to his home on Dec. 21 to spend Christmas with his Dad and stepmother, then flew back home with his Dad to pick up Katie and drive to a ski resort for a few days. It would be pure folly to invite Katie to fly right now, so that wasn't even a consideration. Justin, however, has never had flying issues, so this was a viable possibility. What to do? I've enjoyed Justin for 14 Christmases, and, because he sees so little of his Dad, I understood this might be something he would be up for. I've even casually told friends I wouldn't necessarily be afraid to fly right now, but that was abstract conversation. This is real stuff. This isn't about a friend taking off on a holiday. This will be my son boarding a jet for a fairly long flight. Alone. I thought about it and asked Justin how he would feel about flying out to spend Christmas with his Dad. Of course he was excited at the prospect. Justin is 15, and I'm certain he misses his father. He was a little concerned about leaving me, but I assured him we would celebrate our own Christmas the day before he left. With that assurance, Justin jumped at the opportunity. So this Dec. 21, as I head out for the airport with my precious son, my "wish list" will be small but more important than any I have ever compiled. My fearless son will be winging his way across the country to join his Dad for some much needed bonding, and I'll be praying with all of my heart that he arrives and returns safely. I will have to employ my best acting skills to keep the days leading up to his departure happy, carefree and even matter-of-fact. If I'm able to pull this off, I really should look into taking up drama. This season is all about hope. For a practicing Christian, it's also about faith. I've often told my kids that faith isn't worth a whole lot unless you're challenged and find a reason to use it. If it's the "real deal," it can carry you through anything. And as a parent, it will again be one of those times when Katie and Justin will see if my beliefs were simply talk or straight from the heart. My goal is to prove the latter. What we "do" as parents has a much greater impact than what we say. I'll be nervous in the days leading up to Justin's departure. I probably won't get a great deal of sleep in the next couple of weeks, but there is comfort to be found. In Isaiah 11:6, my Bible states "and the little child shall lead them." Could any statement be more fitting? I will find energy in Justin's enthusiasm. I will find peace in the presence of an optimistic young man flying off to spend a few days with his father. I will employ my Faith and it will serve me well. Readers can e-mail Susie at Susiewrites@gmail.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
Single...With Children: My Daughter Is Dating!
| Single with Children: Teen-ager dating causes parent new set of problems "Mom, is it okay if I go out on a date this weekend?'' my daughter asked me casually a couple of weeks ago. "Sure,'' I answered, followed up quickly with "Who with?'' - trying to disguise my curiosity and not appear too nosy. "This very nice friend I met recently.'' I was also told that he's sweet, kind, really tall, attends the university here and, as a casual aside, I was soon to discover he's 21. Twenty-one. One year older than I was when I was married. Twenty-one. An age that in any state classifies one as an adult. I have to admit, I wasn't expecting that! My daughter is a senior in high school. She's smart, funny, quirky and is one of the most responsible, sensible, grounded people I have ever met. She's also 18, which doesn't seem the least bit possible to me. But I can't deny it's true. I was there when she was born. I have to admit that learning my daughter was planning a date with a 21-year-old college student made me the tiniest bit unsteady for a few minutes. I couldn't help but find the whole idea a bit odd. It comes with the territory of raising kids, I know, but every now and then, even when you know certain landmarks are looming, they hit you right between the parental eyes. This new milestone has given me a lot to think about. I'm 41, and I never fancied myself one of those parents that would make the future dates of my two teen-agers nervous. I couldn't affect that demeanor if I tried. It's simply not my style. What to do? I did the only thing I could. I gently "quizzed'' and I got answers! I learned about his family, his major in college, the classes he was enrolled in and even the color of his eyes. Katie was gentle with me. She knew this was a huge step. I appreciated her consideration and the time she allowed for me to shake off my "deer in the headlights'' appearance. It's at times like this that I find the whole business of "single parenting'' a confusing and intimidating business. I relentlessly, albeit silently, quiz myself. Am I asking the right questions? Ascertaining enough information? Making the right decision? I don't stop at second guessing myself...I take it all the way to the nth degree, which probably explains why I don't get as much sleep as I should. Even though my daughter is 18 years old, and her brother is fast approaching 15, the decisions I find myself confronted with are much more serious than saying yes or no to things like play dates, sleepovers and increases in allowance. It's the natural order of things that as our kids get older, many of the things they grow into doing take them further away from home, the protective nest we, as parents, have ensconced them in for those fleeting years of childhood. Many times I consider that a "yes'' from me could result in something a lot more serious than a skinned knee or broken bicycle. There is also another facet to this time passage that is something I've swept under the rug for a good many years. Eventually, children not only grow up, but they grow out as well. I'm fortunate that my kids seem to love spending time at home. The three of us have always had such an easy relationship with each other that it's not uncommon for us to go to movies, plays and even concerts together. I can't help but notice that they are at a point in their lives where friends are becoming, more often than not, their companions for many of the activities we used to share together. Lately, I have come to the very serious realization that in a few short years they will be independent adults and won't even require my permission for things like dates and activities. And of course, this is exactly what we start preparing them for the second they are born. We patiently celebrate each new feather on their wings and before we know it, one day, those wings are aching to be tried, and that's just as it should be. Of course, the growing isn't limited to teen-agers. There has been more encouragement directed at me. "Go out more, Mom. You need to have some fun!'' I can't help but feel as if the three of us have reached a new plateau. A friend pointed out to me that my kids will be able to enjoy themselves more if they worry about me less. There is wisdom in that, and the last thing I want to be is the lonely mother at home with nothing more for company than the cats they left behind. A few days after the date, I was fortunate enough to meet Katie's new friend. I was pleased to discover that he was exactly as she said: kind, considerate and charming. I can't help but believe those feathers that make up her wings are going to serve her well. The one thing I want most of all is that when my kids finally do take flight, they will feel that home is a most welcome place to land. Readers can e-mail Susie at Susiewrites@gmail.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. Click here to return to story: http://amarillo.com/stories/111401/fri_111401-45.shtml © The Amarillo Globe-News Online |
Single...With Children: School Finals Teach Mother Another Kind Of Lesson
| School finals teach mother another kind of lesson Single with Children By Susie Parker Publication Date: 05/23/01 Lately, tempers have been running just a little short in my home. There hasn't been as much laughter, and one member of my family in particular hasn't been nearly as easygoing and patient. In fact, a couple of times this particular family member has slammed a door or two, usually after coming in from class. There seems to be too much to do and far too little time to accomplish everything that needs to be done as the school year winds down. Deadlines are looming, and the hours are ticking toward a final that seems to have popped up out of nowhere, even though it was clearly stated on the syllabus handed out in the very first class. Of course, it's a fairly seasonal phenomenon. It's FINALS week. From what I can tell, this family will be only too glad when things return to semi-normal and with it, hopefully, the laughter and silly antics that usually pervade the atmosphere in this place we call home. Now, I hate to mention any names and point any fingers, particularly since the short-tempered, impatient family member/student appears to be ME! I've shared a lot of things with my kids over the years, and this spring I'm taking it just a little further, much to their collective chagrin. In fact, I dare say that I have a calendar on my desk counting down the days until I can deposit my textbook back where it rightfully belongs; on my bookshelf gathering dust. No one will be happier than I to see this symbol of high anxiety removed from our dinner table, our deck, our car and just about every other place it has turned up beside me in the past few weeks. The funny thing is that taking this class has taught me a lot more than just the dry subject matter contained on its coffee stained pages. I've learned things these past few weeks that I didn't realize were going to be taught when I innocently signed up for this course a couple of months ago, but perhaps this "bonus lesson'' I'm getting is a re-education of how much stress and tension my kids, all kids in secondary grades I would imagine, feel about this time every year. I remember things. Normally I would be cajoling my kids to study, reminding them of the clock and the projects yet to be done. I would be reiterating how every grade counts, how important grade point averages are and how one can't lose focus this late in the school year. I'm still doing that this year, but I have a confession. If someone were to make any of those statements to me this day before my final, they might very well be risking life and limb and be the recipient of a very harsh stare. I'm not about to surrender my parental responsibility and declare finals week party time, but I will admit that seeing looming tests from my two teen-agers' side of the lens has renewed my perspective on quite a few things I have forgotten. Children, whatever their age, are just as capable as adults of feeling stress and tension and everything that goes with it. I used to wonder why I got the looks I would get when I asked about homework, pleading with me to ask about anything else. This spring I am reminded of why I got them. I know I'm being examined closely, and for the most part I have tried to be upbeat and positive as we all set about our studies. They know I am embarking on finals for a subject I care very little about, but out of necessity must complete. They also are preparing for examinations in a few classes they feel no affection for. We have commiserated, and there is bonding in that. I even have acknowledged that I am forced to memorize formulas and facts that I can't imagine I will be able to honestly put to use in the "real world,'' the one I live in. But of course, it doesn't mean I can toss it all away simply because I can't imagine its "real world'' application. It's required of me, just as some of their least favorite courses are required of them. When I got home from my last class before finals the other night, there was a certificate on my computer monitor. This certificate stated that I was the recipient of the award for the "World's Greatest Mom'' and was decorated with a very lovely computer-generated heart that dearly touched my own real one. I smiled as I picked it up, and I held it for a few minutes, rereading the kind words that forgave the short temper, the occasional slamming door and the unkind word here and there. Were I to somehow manage an "A'' in this class I am preparing to take a final in tomorrow, I can't imagine I could be as thrilled, as touched, or feel as special as this 8 1/2 x 11 inch piece of paper my son created made me feel. Most of all, I felt so very blessed. Later that evening, I checked to see that Justin was ready for bed and that there was, at the very least, a clear path in his room, I wrapped up my son in a grateful hug for reminding me that regardless of the results tomorrow night, I am still a mom and will still be loved. When I got back to my desk and that textbook I can barely stand the sight of, rereading one more time my special certificate, I realized that next year, with a little luck and one more night of hard studying, I will not be taking this same class again. I was wrong in my statement that this class hadn't taught me anything I could imagine using in the "real world.'' Perhaps the very best lesson I learned this semester was taught to me last night, after class, in my very own home and at the hands of my son. Knowledge is a wonderful thing, but love is absolutely priceless. Readers can e-mail Susie at Suzyp2660@aol.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
Single...With Children: We Might Be A Little Bent, But Our Home Isn't "Broken"!
| Single-parent homes aren't always 'broken' Single with Children Publication Date: 05/09/01 "Mom, are we broke?'' my daughter inquired the other day. I thought perhaps she was testing the waters for a trip to the mall and needed some cash. "Well, I think we'll be fine for the rest of the month as long as we can avoid a major appliance meltdown,'' I replied, hoping to illustrate both the fact that we weren't exactly scraping the bottom of the barrel and that we probably shouldn't schedule a shopping spree either! "No, that's not what I meant. I'm not talking about money at all. The other day one of my instructors was talking about kids whose parents are divorced, and I guess I'd never noticed that apparently we are considered a 'broken' family. The funny thing is, I have never thought of our family as broken at all. Why in the world do they call divorced families that?'' As so often happens in my life, I was about to find enlightenment at the hands of my kids. As I thought about her question and comments, I began to realize that the old adage stating that "sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me'' is anything but true. I honestly can't remember ever sustaining an injury from a rock, but I've been bruised quite a few times by intangible, though nonetheless lethal, words. Of course, I would be less than honest not to admit lobbing a few abrasive ones myself. I must admit that I had never particularly paid attention to the term "broken family'' until Katie brought it to my attention. I knew what the phrase was meant to define, but I never personally paid attention to the real connotation. Then again, my skin is predictably thicker, given that I'm 23 years older than my daughter. Age has a way of doing that. I asked Katie exactly what her feelings were on being a member of a family that society tends to label "broken''? My 17-year-old daughter is never at a loss for words and her strongly held opinions always interest me, and I was fairly certain what I was about to hear would be no exception. Though I may not always agree with what she has to say, I always admire the depth of her belief, the sturdy way she backs up any debate and, most of all, I love how Katie feels so passionately about things. One could say part of it is youth, but I have this feeling that when Katie is 80, she still will be fiercely voicing and defending her particular take on any given issue. Just as I predicted, Katie shared with me how members of a family that happen to be divorced are generally no more whole or broken than families who happen to have both parents living in the same home. She related how in visiting a few of her friends' homes with resident mothers and fathers, things have felt a lot more fractured, which led to the question, in order to qualify as a "broken''home, is divorce a pre-requisite? While I am absolutely no proponent of divorce and maintain the highest level of respect for marriage, I will admit that our own home, and even I, at times felt very much in pieces before my divorce. My kids and I and yes, no doubt their father, probably have done a great deal of healing in the ensuing years. In fact, on further reflection, I had to agree with Katie that I didn't feel that we were "broken'' at all. We spoke more about this concept and shared what we thought had helped to steer us toward "whole.'' We both agreed that our faith was a huge factor, as well as mutual love and respect, consideration, patience with ourselves and each other and the essential elements of humor and time. Of course, all of this had to be wrapped in the "super glue'' of forgiveness between the principals. I think I had to admit to my own faults and shortcomings, because rarely is the cause of divorce a one-way street. To that end, I couldn't expect to receive forgiveness and not be willing to grant it. I had to learn how to do that as well, and really mean it. So Katie and I decided that the term "broken family'' doesn't necessarily denote a divorced family and that a "whole'' family isn't always the one where Mom and Dad live in the same home. Perhaps the best kind of family to be a member of, and aspire to, can be quite accurately and simply described as...a happy one. Readers can e-mail Susie at Susiewrites@gmail.com or write to her c/o Amarillo Globe-News, Features Dept., P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, TX 79166. |
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