Go Zoey Go!

Our granddaughter Zoey is 2 years old. I just realized typing this that I am 60 years older than she is (Oy)!  That’s a lifetime of flashbacks for me as a mom and many of them are still very, very clear.    

On a recent visit to Florida to see two of our girls – my daughter Allison and her daughter Zoey – Allison enthusiastically mentioned that I would be going with them to Zoey’s new swimming class. This is the first time she’d be going in on her own; the last one was for parents too.    

I was feeling anxious just knowing I would be witnessing this; I pictured Zoey crying “No, Mommy, No,” and this made me hesitant to want to watch. To prepare Allison for what I thought might be a realistic outcome, I informed her that Zoey might not be willing to venture into the pool by herself.

Allison, however, assured me that she had been talking to Zoey about this for a couple of days leading up to it and that Zoey does well when she understands what’s going to happen. In addition, she had just moved up to a new day care class without tears (other than when she was pushed off a chair by one of the older kids and hit her head) on her first day, so there was no reason to think this would be any different.

No reason?!?! Memories of my kids shrieking when doing all kinds of things that forced them (and me) to grapple with their independence came racing back to me, even though I too had explained next steps...or did I not?

When it was time for Zoey to enter the pool, I could see her arms wrapped around Allison’s neck. I saw Allison try to put Zoey down – I have variations of this memory x 3 – and it looked like Zoey was digging her feet into her mommy’s torso, holding on for dear life.

Anticipating what I was afraid might transpire, I started to cry. Yes, real tears. I was so nervous for them, and then I became embarrassed for myself. Why was I tearing up? Watching the kiddies without all the responsibility of being a parent is supposed to be one of the greatest perks of being a grandparent.

As I sat in the sea of parents smiling and waving to their happy kids in the water without them, I was hoping that no one had noticed that very likely the oldest person there in the swim school at the time had fallen apart.

And then I saw the unthinkable, in a matter of minutes...Zoey reached for the arms of the teacher and within seconds was playing in the water. She spent the next 20 minutes splashing around under the protective care of her instructor...all the while smiling and waving to us. 

Was her willingness to enter the water solo after Allison’s explanation a result of her genetic make-up, or is it how she’s being raised by her parents?

Who knows...but I was surely impressed with Zoey’s bravery...wish some of that would rub off on me!

 

 

Father's Day 2022

When I see my son and sons-in-law shower their babies – our grandchildren – with love and affection, I feel so warm and fuzzy inside.

It’s a beautiful thing to see our daughters and daughter-in-law also display such delight; I can still feel the thrill I felt around my babies, even though it’s been decades since giving birth.

But, for some reason, watching a dad immersed in the magic of his little one stops me in my tracks.   

There’s just something about seeing a grown man envelop a tiny baby in his massive hands, talk several octaves above his own or so tenderly kiss the delicious cheeks of his toddler that I find...captivating.

Creating bonds with our young may feel like the most natural thing in the world, yet one of the more challenging to maintain seems to be between fathers and daughters.

While starting off as a love fest between daddy and baby daughter, this relationship becomes more complex as she begins to mature and starts to develop a mind of her own.

I’m surely no expert on this, but it has always fascinated me given the changing role of men and women in society. Back in the 1960s when I was a wee tot, my dad was responsible for supporting the family and my mom, who also worked, handled the care of 2 boys and 2 girls and many other aspects of our lives.  

Since my mom was at home more often than my dad and spent eons of time and energy relating to me, I naturally began to gravitate more to her. Add to that the physical and emotional tumult of my life when puberty set in and I got my period, needed to shave and wear a bra, I’d never have thought to go to my dad. It would have been too embarrassing to even talk to him about any one of these things even though I was forced to when he caught me one day using his razor. 

It was my mom who took me shopping (until I could go with my friends); it was my mom I went to when I wanted to talk about my girlfriends and boyfriends (and husbands). She gave me her heart and wisdom, and I always knew my feelings were safe with her.

There wasn’t much to talk about with my dad; we lived on different planets, without a bridge linking them. I remember being so excited in high school that I had a boyfriend who smoked cigars; I thought this might ignite conversation and interest with my cigar-smoking dad but let’s just say...he wasn’t impressed.    

For the most part, I didn’t think much about the individual roles of mom and dad until I became a mom. That’s when I realized how unprepared I was as a new parent wanting to raise happy, confident, kind and well-rounded kids. How would this be accomplished? I had no clue, so I started reading everything and talking to everyone.

It became clear in my quest for information that both emotionally healthy moms AND dads have the potential to benefit their kids in infinite ways.

In today’s families, with two working parents and shared duties to keep the household running smoothly, both parents have the opportunity to participate in child rearing. This means that the child can learn from and experience the best and most unique qualities of mom AND dad on a regular basis.   

Studies have shown that while both parents have important roles to play, the relationship dad has with his daughter can be life-defining, impacting her self-esteem, body image, behavior, relationships, academics and so on. A daughter also benefits greatly by learning about her dad and being exposed to his work, hobbies and perspectives, as well as her mom’s.  

In addition, and so importantly, dads are likely their daughters’ first and most influential role model, setting the standard for expectations on how men should treat women and what strong, healthy relationships look like.

In short – after a very long blog post – I have high hopes for these men in my life to give our grandchildren the very best they can, along with these amazing moms I get to call my daughters.

 

 

Mother's Day

Last Sunday was the 8^th Mother’s Day without my mom, and boy, I miss her.

No one could talk to me like she did, and her absence is magnified every time I have a difficult situation to contend with, because she handled me so well. She was able to balance comforting me with loftier goals such as keeping me in check, focusing on the big picture, and creating timeless teaching moments that I could call upon to help in future scenarios, too.    

For most of the topics I brought up – from work to parenting to all kinds of personal relationships – her responses were delivered in the same 5 steps. She would: 1 – listen; 2 – show compassion toward me; 3 – show compassion toward everyone else; 4 – challenge me; 5 – recommend actions I could take that would contribute to the greater good.  

Sometimes these discussions didn’t play out so smoothly, as she may have missed the mark on what was reasonable for me to do or not do. I wasn't always in the mood for her self-improvement guidance: “Go back to school, Judy”; her suggestions on how-to-make-the-world-a-better-place: “Form a union at the doctors’ office for all employees to benefit, Judy”; or her belief that that I’m making things worse when I let my emotions get the best of me: “Don’t be so angry, Judy.”

I remember thinking “Easy for you to say,” or “That’s not going to work in my life,” yadda yadda, but the fact that this woman I thought so highly of had these ideas made me pause and think about perspectives that I hadn’t considered.  

There were times, however, that I just wanted to vent to my mommy and not subject myself to the whole rigmarole that had become our dance, but I generally gave up on that in favor of having yet another opportunity to hear what Florence was thinking.     

She also gave lots of unsolicited opinions, much of which I didn’t appreciate at the time and I’m sure she noticed my eye rolling but, luckily, that didn’t stop her. I stored these pearls of wisdom away and marvel today at how she managed to work them in – a skill I haven’t mastered but am working on 😊 – such as:  be kind to each other, eat together as a family, siblings should help one another, give your friends the benefit of the doubt, don’t focus too much on yourself, read the newspaper, rinse out plastic bags, wear shoes with laces, plant flowers and spend time in nature, get involved in your community and so on.

I often think about my mom when I am wanting to give my kids advice, solicited or not. They may not always react well at the time, but hopefully what they hear will resonate sometime in the future.

 

Didn't Make the Cut

“Don’t take it personally,” I find myself saying repeatedly – to myself, to friends, to family – when situations arise with friends that often lead someone to take it personally.

One of the more common and yet challenging scenarios that can be difficult to process involves wedding-related events.

A good friend talked with me this weekend about feeling hurt that she was excluded from a friend’s daughter’s upcoming wedding. She was able to talk herself through it and didn’t confront her friend despite wanting to, but she has lingering feelings about being left out, especially while she is still helping the mother-of-the-bride talk out the remaining details.

Last year, another friend told me that she was not included in a bridal shower for a friend’s daughter and she was deeply hurt, feeling that their closeness called for each other’s presence on such special occasions. In this case, she told her friend how she felt which initially caused uncomfortable feelings between them, but luckily the bond was strong enough to move forward.  

Being a host on three different occasions – as the mother of a son, a daughter, and a stepdaughter, all of whom had weddings – I can say that each celebration presented its own challenges when it came to the invitation list.

For starters, the guest numbers were determined in large part by the soon-to-be newlyweds and venue capacities. In each case, once the criteria was established, the total number of people allowed were divided among the various units involved: the bride and groom and all the parents (which were as many as 8).

This means that in the larger weddings, even though David and I were allotted about 50 invitees, once we included our families, we were only left with 15 or so couples which we then had to divide between us. Not all families have the second marriage reality to contend with, but it is an additional factor, as we had experienced our own lives and connections for some 40 years before beginning to merge them. Even in more conventional arrangements, circumstances arise that make list construction complicated.

The guest list dilemma is not an unusual position to be in for those of us in my generation, given how long we’ve been around and the wonderful friends we’ve accumulated along the way. In addition, there are friends who have invited us to their happy occasions, so we want to reciprocate and invite them to ours.

All this said, I completely understand how people could feel hurt if they are left out, and I too have felt this way numerous times. It wasn’t until I hosted parties and began to understand the quandary of having to limit invitations that I started to realize that not being included didn’t define or change the relationship.

It’s hard, but I have learned not to take these exclusions personally...or at least I have tried.

All in a Life

Last week, my former brother-in-law, Peter Heiman, passed away at just 60 years old, from bowel cancer. He is survived by his loving wife and two adult sons and an assortment of family members, including nieces and nephews, brothers, and in-laws.

People came from far and wide to participate in his Celebration of Life, with speakers sharing a slew of memories that created a heartwarming picture of a man who will be so warmly remembered and greatly missed.  

With every person who spoke, I wondered if Peter had any idea that they had such soft spots in their heart for him. Did he know, for just two examples of many, that his love and devotion to “The Oldies” music from as far back as the 1950s has been passed on to the next generation(s) in multiple families? Did he realize that not only are these tunes enjoyable but, due to his association with them, these songs also have the power to comfort? Did he know that not only did he teach his younger relatives to drive a stick shift, but thinking about these experiences are among their favorites ever and, 20+ years later, they are still laughing about those days?

We cross paths with lots of people over the years and whether we are aware of how we are seen or not, we leave some kind of impression. Hopefully our impact is positive or of a caring or inspirational nature or a lot of fun or some other really good stuff. Perhaps some of these relationships really are true gifts.   

We connect, we form a bond, we leave our mark...as do the individuals we get to know. We might be clear on what they mean to us, but are they aware how we see them? Likewise, are we tuned in to how they see us?

Talking to one another so openly could be hard to do, as many of us by nature may not be communicative about our innermost feelings. We might be embarrassed to reveal so much about ourselves or feel awkward to emote when we don’t know how the other person will react.

Perhaps we have considered telling our thoughts but, for whatever the reason, we decided to wait...and, at times, could have missed our opportunity.

Whether we tell or don’t tell, know or don’t know, I’m not sure it really matters in the scheme of things...but I do believe Peter would’ve really appreciated knowing what a difference he made in so many lives.

Our Shea

This past week, we were forced to put our dear Shea Doggy down due to his health issues. We are so grateful that for over 12 years, he provided us with endless joy and companionship...if only doggies could live forever.

It was love at first sight when I had my first glimpse of Shea, a bichon-shih tzu mix. He was in a crate, and I could see his little white and fluffy face with black and brown patches and big black eyes looking back at me through the door. He was the cutest thing I had ever seen.

We were bringing this little puppy into our chaotic family life at the request of Matthew, David’s son, who returned from college for cancer treatment. He named him Shea (rhymes with May), being the New York sports fan that he was, for Shea Stadium.

Shea quickly began to transform our lives in unimaginable ways. We went from 2 families with 5 teenagers under one roof with everyone focusing on themselves to all hanging out and loving the same dog. Whether watching him from a distance or snuggling him, he made everything better, creating a serene vibe that we appreciated and acknowledged. Making us feel at peace was Shea’s superpower.

When Matthew passed, Shea’s presence became even more crucial for David, with Shea acting as the bridge for life with Matthew to life without Matthew. Now that Shea is gone, I know David is struggling with the gaping hole of not being able to curl up with his best buddy throughout the day and spoon him to his (David’s) heart’s content.   

As for me, I long for that bedtime routine when he would sleep on my legs or nuzzle into my feet, always keeping me warm and cozy on cold winter nights. Even though I often couldn’t fully stretch my legs and they’d cramp up, there was something very sweet and comforting knowing our boy was right there, where I could even feel him breathing.

Our house is so quiet and seems so empty without him.

A Reversal of Roles

A dear friend of mine has a 33-year-old daughter who just got a new job. She had been a recreational therapist for a few years and wanted to change course and get into administrative work in a setting that involved healthcare. She had three interviews on Zoom and didn’t go into the office until her first day.

When she entered her new workplace, she was in for a surprise. She immediately noticed that of about 15 others, she was the ONLY white person.

She had known that the company is a Black-owned business, and she had met with three Black men and women to talk about the position. I’m sure she expected that she’d have Black and other minority co-workers and she was good with that, as she has always appreciated the diversity she experienced in high school, college, city living and in previous jobs, along with various friendships over the years.

While being in the minority may have crossed her mind, she surely didn’t expect to be the ONLY white person working in the office...would any white person expect this? While it’s not unusual to work in an environment that is mixed, or where one person is a different color than the rest, it is, I believe, highly unusual for a white person to be the one who stands out.  

It was the norm for a Black person to be the one and only in the pediatric office where I had worked; in my 18 years there, I can only remember 3 Black employees: two overlapped but that was short-lived; usually there was only one Black person there at any given time.

I used to wonder what it was like for my Black coworkers to come in every day to this sea of whiteness, with 25 to 30 of us surrounding them. A lot of these white women were bigoted too – in addition to women often being catty and horrible to each other – so these Black women had a lot to endure and try to ignore. I’m sure they chose to look the other way and not make a stink, because my guess is that, sadly, this is the world they are used to.

It’s been a week since my friend’s daughter has been going to her new workplace. She told her mom she's been enthusiastically greeted by many of the women and that one day they chanted her name and said, “You’re part of the morning crew now.”

She was absolutely delighted to be given such a warm welcome and to feel that not only does she think she belongs there, but her coworkers do too.