MOATGAE

You may have wondered about my tag line. Well years ago when Neo-pets was a hot thing for my son's I was given a pet that Alex named MOATGAE. He said it stood for Mother of All Things Good and Evil. & that sounds both powerful and sad to me, as of course I do not like evil, yet from a child's view point, we are all powerful, and being sent to bed can feel like evil, I guess. So that's the name, sometimes, when " Mom" or " Cat" or " Cathy" or " Cat-dog" ( don't know where that came from, but I have a vague recollection of a disturbing children's cartoon with a tow headed animal by the same reference) I am referred to as Moatgae, I like Moatg myself.

Our job

Nature VS Nurture
By the time  my first son, Alex ,was born, I was a licensed Marriage and Family Therapist with 9 years experience working with families and children. I was still internally struggling with the Nature VS Nurture debate, but smugly leaning toward nurture. I worked in homes with children whose teeth were black and rotted out as they were growing in because they were given sweets to quiet them all day long.Young children who were out of control and disrespectful with parents distracted by their own needs to feel loved to bother providing the boundaries and guidance their offspring needed to feel safe and loved themselves. It was clear to me, with all the arrogant certainty of anyone who has never actually HAD a child can possess, that "it" was all in the nurture. A child would do thrive as long as they were given the "right" environment, simple, I thought.

I should mention I was pregnant at the same time as two of my sister-in-laws, so it was easy to have my own little N VS N case study. Our babies were born within a 5 week period of time.  We were different mom's in different situations, 2 of us had boys, 2 of us had Graduate degrees, one high school, 2 of us financially sound, one was living tight and going back to work after a few months off. I had quit drinking alcohol an entire year before I even got pregnant "preparing my self to be a vessel for life" was a common line I used at parties to ward off the wine. How I never had a beer thrown in my face is a testament to the good people in my life at the time. One was still smoking. One was very nervous, every article read meant a new potential disfigurement in her child or birth defect. I read everything I could find, was calm, excited and eager to meet my child.
I didn't even know I was in real labor when I went into the hospital, Alex was born 4 hours later.   A week early to boot!

And then my darling baby proceeded to cry and scream for the next    three    months    straight, stopping only to nurse, take cat naps or when I was driving him in the car. During that time a man was arrested for sticking a sock in his step son's mouth to stop him from crying, While I would never do anything like that, I completely understood the thought process. I understood loosing it. I went to the line. I got it. I thought things I never thought I'd think. I begged him to sleep. I cried, I bribed ( I 'm pretty sure one delusional 4 a.m. bout brought a negotiation involving a new car when he was 16). Too bad he didn't fall asleep, he's 16 in February. Colic is colic.

Meanwhile a few towns away I had a nephew who would sit in his swing for hours content to watch the birds or leaves out the window, and a niece one state over who would fall asleep while she simply sat on her mom's lap. Her mom had a lap, which means my sister-in-law could sit down, which means her child did not scream whenever she tried to sit down. I wondered what that was like.


Guess which one is Alex



Alex & I made it through and he taught me so much. And much to my satisfaction the remainder of his first year was spent with strangers approaching me in stores and on the street commenting on how happy he was. I learned what he needed and gave it to him. There was no formula for the "right" environment. Not one right environment. I learned  that our job as parents is to welcome our  child into the family, and make room for his or her own individual needs. Often times their needs makes us stretch and grow into more than who we are, and take us out of our box, challenge our fantasies. And we are the better for it. My mom used to say    " You don't go into their world, bring them into yours" I disagree, I believe you need to go to their world and understand your child's individual needs, even if it means you have to make compromises in your world. Children do not ask to be born. We decide to have them, the least we can do if figure out who they are and what they need and do our best to provide it.

Shooting Star

I saw a shooting star out of my bedroom window this morning. I know I have mentioned I have an awesome view out of that window, especially this time of year. So excited was I to see that shooting star that I did the first thing that came to mind. The Serenity Prayer. I guess I could have wished for a couple of things, that my children out live me with joy and good health, to win the lottery this evening, to be swept off my feet again,  (It's only happened 3 times in 44 years, I hear the average person falls in love 6 times over the course of a lifetime. I am due, come on lucky number 4) And I, perhaps lame-o that I am , jump right to the Serenity Prayer.
For those unfamiliar:
 God, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.

Short and sweet, that was my "wish upon a star"

Once we have the wisdom to know the difference, I find the rest falls into place. & I like mulling that part. What is important? What is my responsibility to change, what can I acknowledge I have no power over? What has to change? What can we live with, not what we don't want to live with? We all live with things we don't want to live with ( ie. Newtown property taxes) but somehow we manage to get comfortable in our  discomfort. I find, when I have moments of serenity, much of what I can allow myself to get anxious over falls away. When we know what to look for, other things become less important. And the really important stuff, like Nick asking us all to stay together last night to play with our Guiding Eyes Puppies, becomes apparent.

Alex W/ a Guiding Eyes Puppy

So my wish for you today, and Thank you again for reading, is too look for the love.

Between 5"10- 6"2' - stable job,emotionally stable, good sense of humor, must love kids& dogs, be affectionate, thoughtful and dance in the kitchen.:-)  - just kidding, but really if we all look it'll be easier.

No seriously, notice the love around you, did your kids Not kill each other over breakfast? That counts. Did your husband leave the seat down? There's another. Did someone call to ask you for help? Blessed be you that you are in a position to help another human being. Look for the love, it's there. Yes so are the problems, don't worry they won't go away if you are busy looking for love, so take the time anyway.  Change the things you can, accept what you cannot, this, I believe, is the path to peace.

And really , bald is fine, if he's handy around the house, that's a bonus- just saying.

Favorite Picture

So if you look to the right you will notice a new family picture. Well an old one, and my all time favorite. ( don't I look young?) My arms are full with Love and it shows on every one's face. This is the good stuff, the real stuff. Remember today while you are busy, we are all so busy, that all that really matters is what I have there in my arms, and you in yours, go get them, hug them.

To that end, I am not a proof reader. I apologize to those of you who are infinitely better at finding mistakes than I am , that I don't spend a lot of time on that. And I'm sorry but, I don't CARE.... My father was an 8th grade English teacher, please feel free to reread post of " What choice do we give them"  I failed 8th grade english. :-)
Ok so in therapy school they tell us that anything preceeded by a "but" is a lie. That's true, see above paragraph.

birth order laundry

2 friends+ a rain storm+ a slip & slide

The first few weeks of school are quite an adjustment for all of us, the kids are tired, overwhelmed and busy and I can be, frankly, bored. I miss them, I miss the bustle. I did the laundry with too much time on my hands. There are a few dangerous things about a woman with too much time on her hands, but this time it proved to be slightly amusing in a Reader's Digest kind of way.
First  born son's week worth of laundry consists of: 7 pairs of socks, 7 underwear, 7 shorts and 7 t-shirts, very organized, methodical, first child stuff.
My second born son's hamper contains shirts that I know he wore for 3 minutes, clothing from friends and neighbors , a bunch of miss matched socks, a few pair of underwear, some I am positive I did not purchase,
9 pair of shorts, and 2 sweatshirts he hasn't worn or hung up since last winter. Oh yeah, and some of the new school clothes with price tags still on them.
And my youngest son, 1 pair of underwear, 3 red shirts and 2 shorts. That's it.. I try not  to think about it.

On a serious side, birth order has great impact on all of us, how we partner up, parent, our expectations of ourselves and others. I encourage parents to read birth order books, Yes, they are generalizations, and yet so much of them pan out. I used to teach the Red Cross Babysitting Course when my boys were very young. I could, with about 90% accuracy, pick out the first born children and only children in the first 10 minutes of class. They are the ones, raising their hands, hushing the class, trying to engage with me.
I have had couples in my practice, and although they may be professional, working adults, in their relationship they both look to the other to make decisions.They get frustrated by the lack of direction, not realizing, as two last children, neither has had to take a lead. They can adjust and  quickly do, once they recognize the source of the misguided expectations. There are many variables that effect birth order, but basic knowledge of patterns can help people understand each other and ease the way for successful expectations and  more satisfying interactions.

Matt, my fourth

As I stated in my first post, I always wanted to have a house my kids were comfortable in, where their friends could hang-out. Growing up with 5 brothers there was always people around, and being that I was the only girl, my mom was generous about letting me have friends over frequently. We had Orly Ronan live with us for a year, when her family moved to New Jersey. Going from the only girl to sharing a 9 x 11 room with someone was a growth experience. My family had always "adopted" people. Several generations ago my Grandfather's cousin's came to live with him as children, as their parents could not care for them for a time. It's tradition.

So it is a natural extension that my house is usually busy. And I love it. I saw a home video recently that was 10 years old, pre-schoolers and early elementary kids jumping on my couches, standing and dancing on chairs. I remember my mother admonishing her grandkids exhuberant behavior with a " This is NOT Aunt Cathy's house" , when they spread their wings elsewhere. It's a house where kids can be kids, and nothing is too valueable that if you break it it really matters. We made the basement the "mancave" complete with a huge TV ( thanks Kevin) and a huge coach & small fridge ( thanks Tina). They are comfortable here. Not only do I get to enjoy my own boys interacting with their friends close up, I get to hear more about their lives.Once some of my sons' friends stopped by to grab a snack & go through my halloween costumes even though they knew my son wasn't home. They know the side door is open, and if you've been here more than once, you know just to come in. I want people to be comfortable here, so this leads me to Matt.



Matt, after his " Can a kid fit in a dryer "experiment- and yes he can



Matt is my son Nick's best friend and has become the  my first official unofficial-adopted child.  He calls me "Cat" or  "Cat-dog" don't remember where that's from. He has wonderful parents, and an older sister that he enjoys. But he & Nick seem to need each other,( Matt was away for a week after we were away for a week last summer. I thik it was the longest they had gone not seeing each other in years. This left Nick, grieving I think,  laying on the couch, watching old seasons of The Office so much that he talked only in Office quotes for several weeks) Frick & Frack my mom would say, I believe it's called a bro-mance today. So, he is here, a lot. The past two summers the boys were inseperable. He has come on vacation with us twice. He has been to family parties and took part in Cousin's Camp ( an annual tradition with the 16 grandkids) His presence is a given and in his absense he is missed. He is the seasoning to the oil and vinegar my children are without him here. All together, they make a nice combination. He pushes us all out of the box, we talk more to each other when Matt is around. He pitches in with chores, (he just set the table) he is helpful the way I hope my own kids are helpful when they are at someone else's house. He adds humor and laughter and feels like part of us. When his parents thank me for all the time he is here, or express concern that it is too much, I tell them, and I mean it, he makes us all better, together.

So thank you Stephanie & Laz for sharing your wonderful son with us. And Matt,  I hope this is good enough for you. I think the garbage in the basement needs to go out. I'd say " I love you like your one of my own", but you would say "eewww" and call me a "pedophile" so let's not go there.

What choice do we give them?

It is psychological and emotional task of a teenager to push away from the parents. To differentiate, to rebel, to be different from US. They drive us crazy,  make us wonder what happened to the wonderful, loving son or daughter we cared for. Who this alien is who is living with us, and just how early can we try to get them in for Early Admissions at college? That's exactly how it's supposed to be.

Generations ago this was easier, Pa wanted Johnny to stay on the farm and take over, Johnny wanted to go to the big city and to a place called college. Boom - rebellion. Mom wanted Sally to finish taking ballroom dance lessons  and learn how to sew, HELLOOOOO Elvis.  Boom-rebellion. Parents having ideas of what they want for their children start as soon as the rabbit died, or the little blue line appeared, if not sooner. This was good, this was right, this was as it should be. Somewhere along they way, and I think it may have been when the rebellion took the form of drugs and causal sex, topped off with the AIDS crisis, parents, some parents got this lame brain idea that all they wanted for their child was for the child to "be happy". 
I do believe this was born out of fear of what could be next after heroin, and HIV. A lot of bad ideas are born out of fear. Don't get me wrong. I want my boys to be happy.  More importantly, I want them to know what they need to do to take care of themselves so they can experience happiness. That means the ability to tolerate when life does not go your way, which is frequent. When what you want requires hard work and dedication, which is constant.And how to care for ones self when an actual trauma occurs in life, which is inevitable. And to know how to do the laundry and cook.
A friend of mine recently posted a facebook picture of her ex husband's new girlfriend's 14 yr old daughter, who shares a room every other weekend with her own 9 yr old. The girl was wearing a t-shirt with the word F*ck used in several grammatically incorrect ways, with a pretty smile on her face and a lip ring. My question is this: If this is ok, what will she have to do to rebel against her parent?We HAVE to give them something to rebel against. We have to say "NO" sometimes, We have to have expectations and rules and things that are not "ok".We cannot be afraid of them, if we are afraid of them, who is left to protect them?

A supervisor of mine, mother of 7 sons and 2 daughters. often told us stories. One of my favorite was how when her youngest was a teen, as the mom, she would find something benign to make a big deal out of , so her daughter could rebel safely. She blew a gasket whenever a comb or brush was brought into the kitchen. She could make a case for it, sanitation and all, but her underlying reasoning was to give her daughter a way to rebel without actually causing any harm or long term damage. The developmental task could be met, without the child becoming a social piranha, or harming herself..

I routinely monitor my kids facebook pages and in-box "Take it down" to anything inappropriate. They put it up there, (rebel), I reinforced the boundary,( parent). Think about it this way, if you help your child learn how to deal with the word "No" now,  when they go out into society and hear it often, as we all do, they will be better able to deal with it then, and therefore happier.
Now go out there & make your kid miserably today for a better tomorrow! :-)

Put your mask on first

She told me I looked great in everything, but bought herself nothing. She told me I could do anything, and then took over her boss' job at a fraction of the pay. She told me I was smart, strong and free, and she stayed trapped in an unhealthy relationship that not only damaged her, but her children as well. And as children do,  I followed her example of a woman's worth instead of absorbing her words as wishes for me. It took a crisis for me to learn this lesson.

"Put your mask on first", the flight attendant says, "before assisting others." As a young mother with three children on a flight I often smirked at this command. Like any woman in her right mind would make sure she was okay while her child struggled. And yet it is what we must do. In little ways, everyday.

But first, if you are like most women I know, you need to find out what "your mask" is.
 What brings you oxygen, life, joy?
What energizes you and makes it so you can return to your difficult and time consuming job of taking care of others?
Years ago, when I was training to be a therapist a speaker was brought in to a class for some comic relief, and to deliver a message. I always prefer my messages to be delivered with comic relief personally. I think they stick better. One of the things she told us was if we each made a list of ten things that nurtured us each day, and did them, we would never need therapy. My list has changed over the years as my life has changed, but I find I am in a better mood when I hit at least 8 out of my ten each day. They do not have to be big things, and they should be things you have some control over.

1. Look out the picture window in my bedroom, see the sunrise & thank God for it

Sunrise out that window-Room design- Linda Burhance
Paint- Adele Unger

2. Feel the softness of my pillowcases on my cheek

3. S-T-R-E-T-C-H

4. A mug of hot tea (several mugs, vats really)

5. Go for a walk

6. Talk to a few friends

7. Hug my boys *

8. Laugh out loud

9. Pet and baby talk my dogs

10. Do something from my to do list

11. Dance

12. Sing out loud

13. Connect with a family member

I have a few extra in case the weather doesn't cooperate with my sunrise or walking. I do these things everyday and they nourish me. Participating in these activities keeps me in the here & now. They keep me balance and available for those I love.

My mom did the best she could, and is now, possibly for the first time in her life, learning how to put her mask on first. I am grateful to her and proud to be her daughter. 

Now go, make your list of what nourishes you.  Then do them! :-)

Put your mask on first, so you can help your kids with theirs.

* By design, even with shared custody, there are only two days each month that I do not see them at some point during the day

And so it goes

The boys and I attended the memorial for my Great Uncle Seymour Brandman yesterday. Uncle Sey was married  to my Aunt Rita, my grandmother's baby sister and the youngest of the eleven children in my Grandmother's family. Since the time I was ten my childhood was marked by the passing of these family celebrities. At the time, naturally, I did not realize the significance of each passing. I was more aware of the new thing I was observing. Such as my Great Aunt Mary wailing " It should have been me",over and over at her younger sister's wake.  Aunt Josephine, who had passed, was 76 and the rumor ( My grandmother & her sister's told stories that sounded fascinating, or maybe they believed them) was the Aunt Joe died a virgin of cervical cancer, and of course the Doctor never needed to check there, since she was a virgin, so they did not catch the cancer soon enough. Maybe it was true. Something didn't sit right with my ten year old ears.
It seemed after Aunt Joe, another relative from that generation left us each year for a while. Until  there was Aunt Rita , Uncle Sey and my Grandparents left. I was so happy the couples had each other. Four people whose lives spanned 6 +decades together, their stories shared, their wisdom in common. The represented the Italian foundation of our family, and the inclusion of Uncle Sey's Jewish heritage left a mark of openness and against any bigotry, without even trying.
They were there, those four, celebrating our marriages and the births of our children. A rare things in this age of moving all over the country and the world, and relationship being cast aside. Our throw away society is going too far. There is a cost we aren't even aware we are paying. They supported each other, entertained each other, they were each other's people. They were my people. My children's people.
On the way down to the service Alex amazed me with his accurate description of Aunt Rita & Uncle Sey's house. Each room, what we did  in them how we would walk down to Silvermine Tavern and feed the ducks, climb the tree in her front yard, play pooh sticks. When I am an old lady I am going to have a tree kids can climb in my front yard. It has been years since we had been there.
First we lost Aunt Rita, far too soon for a woman who always had a kick in her step and never a gray hair. She claimed it was due to eating her vegetables as a child. Then on his 93rd birthday my Grandfather tidied up his life and gave one last wave. My grandmother left us on January 31st this year at 97 1/2 years old, at home as she wanted it. And now Uncle Sey, just short of his 90th birthday.

I knew Uncle Sey was a businessman, and Brandman Paint & Decorating Center was his, I knew he was a pilot and liked spending his winters in Florida. He was one of the few in the family who still referred to me as  "Cathy-Jo", after my Great Aunt Josephine.I can recall his familiar voice saying it as I write. I did not know Uncle Sey was in the Coast Guard Auxiliary, or that he was an integral part of the beginning Norwalk Oyster Fest. I found these things out at the service. We forget these people whose presence in our lives we take for granted do things before and after we visit them. They do interesting things. Talk to someone over 80. They have a life, they have seen things we will never see, they have done things we will never do. They are our precious roots. Care for them well. And to you four...I love you, I miss you and I'll be seeing you.

Something is going right

Walking the tightrope of male-female relationships

My 14 year old accurately predicted my period yesterday. At this time in my life it is something of an unwanted surprise party that shows up at it's own will. I don't even bother keeping track and have not until recently even had symptoms of PMS. I started noticing them last year.
Since my boys do not have an adult in house male/female relationship to learn from, and realizing this will leave them completely dazed and confused when they find themselves living with another female, I sat them all down and gave them a little lesson on when Mom is...well let's say prone to stealing your Halloween, Easter or Christmas candy no matter how long it's been sitting on your dresser and other tell tale symptoms.

 Nick noticed my uncharacteristic response to the woman in the white car who had to get in front of me in the fast lane on 84 and then drive 45 to the mall!, ( yes that is the absolute best description a cop will ever get from me in talking about a car and yes still a bit peeved). My usually cooing of  " okay honey, whatcha trying to do this morning?" which gets a negative review as ineffectual from my 15 year old ( then again EVERYTHING I do gets a negative review from that one.And since when is calling someone an expletive making anyone a better driver Alex???  huh MR know it all, huh?) I digress.
Anyway, my usual calm reaction was replaced by something, say, colorful.
A little while later he saw my impatience with a server not having lunch items ready. I understand pretzel stands at the mall do not have a high standard of work ethic but the picture of the hot dog wrapped pretzel should not be up there if they are not ready to serve them at 11:45. Just saying. Nick turned to me, put his hand on my shoulder and asked " Are you getting your period?" What I love about this, why I think I must be doing something right, is his asking was purely out of amusement and curiosity. That is exactly the right way to handle this woman in a PMS state. And that any sign of impatience from me is out of character and cause to suspect impending menstrual cycle. ( yahoo!)

The fact that he was right several hours later is just salt on the pretzel.

Days Gone By

Alex is 15, I don't see him much anymore. I was surprised tonight when I came out of my session to find him putting away the dishes in the kitchen ( really he was). I did not expect to see him until tomorrow afternoon, after his work-out, pick-up basketball, dinner at a friends, volunteer service, sleep-over & the wake up at noon that has become his typical Friday night. I miss him, I have been missing him for a year or so now. I don't think I miss him as a thirteen year old, the boy who sat at MY computer and informed me I should butt out of something because it was HIS life. Nope, don't miss him.

I recently found a video of the kids. I had three under the age of 4. When I was tired, I sat on the floor and took out the video camera. And they danced. They sang, they told jokes " Why did the chicken cross the playground? " Alex sheepishly asks, looking sideways into the lens. He waits for the best comedic timing a four year old can muster. " To get the the other slide!". " Why does Santa like to garden?" again, perfect timing, " Cause he likes to ho, ho ho!" Go ahead you can use them.

I miss him.

I miss his voice, I miss his smell, I miss his softness and his knowing smile when he understood far more than his tender years should have. I miss the smile he saved for me, his mom. .I miss his fancy hair in the mornings, and the freedom he had running around naked with just a blanket tied around his neck as a cape.I miss watching him discover things.  I tried to explain this to him one Friday morning recently as we were sitting in the car before he was heading to his dad's for the weekend. I asked him what his plans were for the weekend and got a very grump " I don't know". I asked for clarification, ( yes he has admitted to HATING having a therapist for a mother), of whether he had no plans or did not truly know what they were. Then with all the ease of the dentist removing my back molar, he told me the few plans he had nailed down for the weekend which resulted in only10 hours unaccounted for time. I explained again, that there was a time, that he will never remember that I knew everything about him.. That I had the luxury of watching him sleep, and I was the first person he wanted to tell if anything exciting happened, like he saw a squirrel climb up a tree. And while I knew the pink slip was coming, or my job at the very least was being downsized to part-time, or on call, Per Diem as we call it in my field, it is hard to handle.

I was great at my job. I never complained being woken up in the middle of the night. I sang "Nobody knows the poopie I've seen" over dirty diapers, I was the queen of tent forts in the family room and picnics in the rain. We danced, we sang. Some of my friends marveled at all the children's tunes I could remember, and yes I LIKED THE WIGGLES -there I said it. Judge me if you must.  We watched bugs crawl, read endless stories, learned all the dinosaurs names even though after my prayers to God about a health child I also added I hoped I did not have one that was into dinosaurs. Heck I even had the first 150 Pokemon memorized! All that skill, now no where to go with it. All that love and ...

I appreciate the man my son is becoming. It is a pleasure to watch him relaxed with his friends, laughing, joking around. I delight in being able to talk about grown-up topics ( so glad he is taking the sociology class I suggested). I rub his back whenever I walk by him, I tell him I appreciate his help, I get the foods he likes and always pick him up at the gym with his protein shake ready for him. I enjoy watching him take interest in his life and the after high school world that is approaching And yet...

"Kiss today good-bye  the sweetness and the sorrow wish me luck, the same to you. And I won't forget what I did for love..."

Mothering

It is my utmost pleasure to be mothering three terrific and a few part-time boys. I grew up with 5 brothers and often notice while I am driving with my sons, I am again surrounded by 5 males, sometimes more.

As a family therapist I am fascinated by familial patterns and our unconscious abilities to recreate our families of origin with those around us. I am equally pleased with my ability to also be different, in the here and now, with my own kids, and the off-spring of others. My house is the fun house, the house of plenty, plenty of Oreos, of  ice cream, of time for the kids, of laughter and advise, of respect and responsibility,  and of love. And that was what I had always wanted it to be.

My reasons for this blog are two-fold, one is, as a single mom I have no one particular person witnessing my life. Plenty of friends and dear people who have been  very intimately involved for periods of time, with whom memories are made and shared and treasured. But there is no one constant who will remember. This blog is my living journal of my parenting of my three sons.And you kind reader, if you please, shall be my witness. My second reason is because in my own psychotherapy practice I have been asked to share parenting knowledge, advice, and to write about topics we share in common and perhaps are not comfortable sharing in person, out loud, where we feel vulnerable. And alone.

 But we are not alone. I believe in  the Breakfast Club. I believe superficiality separates us.I believe fear and shame separate us. And I know loneliness is a plague,  with side effects of depression and anxiety.  I also know, "We are not alone, cause when you cut down to the bone, we're really not so different after all".

It is my hope reading this will also help someone feel less alone. Even if that someone is me sometimes.:-)
A huge thank you to Kate Mayer for helping me set this up after months of sitting on the title page! Check out Kate's blog at returntoworkmom.blogspot.com