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