"Parent"dox: When a Place is More than a "Place"

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #16:  When a Place is More than a "Place"

Have you ever been to a Place that became more than just a "place" to you?  

Maybe it was the beauty of the Place itself.  Maybe it was the way you felt when you were in that Place.  Maybe it was the people that filled that Place.  Maybe it was the memories made in that Place.

Whatever the reason, the Place somehow transformed and became more than just a "place" for you.

So Many places, So Few Places
There are literally millions upon millions of places in the world.  

Houses.  Parks.  Streets.  Hiking Trails.  Swing sets.  Restaurants.  Malls.  Beaches.  High School Gymnasiums.  Campgrounds.  Apartments.  Hospitals.  Churches.  Backyards.  Benches.  Treehouses.  Coffee shops.  Libraries.  

There are, however, very few of these places that become Places.  The beauty of Places is they are completely unknown, unseen by the common passerby.  It is hidden in plain sight.  A Place is known only to the person who holds that Place dear; only to the person who has experienced, lived, and breathed that place in such a way that it became a Place to them.  To only them and them alone.  

For me, I've been lucky enough to have just returned from one my Places.  (Oh yes, you can have more than one Place...)  It is a Place I've visited countless times.  It has become a Place to me because of it's beauty, because of the way it makes me feel when I am there, because of the people that have filled it, and most of all, because of the memories that have been made there.

It is the beach cottage my Mom has rented for the past 11 years.  At first glance, it is nothing special, nothing fancy.  It is probably close to 100 years old.  The walls and floors are pretty bare; the furniture is no doubt older than I am.  No one else would know what a treasure it is, that it has become a part of me and I a part of it, in a way I can't really explain.    

It has become my Place.

It has become my Place simply by being there, year after year.  As I think back over the days and nights spent there, I realize that this Place has somehow found a way to capture so many of the important events from the past 11 years of my life.  It has seen me through most of the milestones of my adult life.  

Same Place,  A Million Different Memories
I remember the first year out there, when I went with my Mom that first day of her week there and we looked around to try to figure out how to get into the place.  And then wandered around inside checking out the kitchen and the porch and the bedrooms, not knowing what was around each corner or behind each door.  

I remember a year when I went out and stayed for as many days or nights as I felt like, pretty much making up my mind as I went each day.  I would stay up late, sleep in until noon, and eat whatever I wanted, whenever it sounded good, including ice cream for dinner or breakfast at our favorite local breakfast spot at 1:00pm.

I remember a year when I would schedule the days I would head to the cottage around the days my boyfriend had to work or could come out to visit.  I would try to convince him to head out to the beach as soon as he was done with work, or stay an extra night, even if it meant he had to leave at 5:00am the next morning.  (Yes, that same "boyfriend" later became my fiance, then my husband, then the father of my children...and is still putting up with me all these years later!)

I remember the year I spent many hours on the porch with papers and sticky notes and notecards spread everywhere, as I put the finishing touches on things that needed to be finished for my wedding, which was only a month away.  I searched through family-owned shops downtown for the perfect stationary to write thank you notes to my bridesmaids and spent an afternoon shopping for clothes for myself and my husband-to-be for our honeymoon.

I remember a time when I planned my days at the cottage based on my graduate class schedule.  I would finish a class, drive out to the beach, then spend the afternoon reading and highlighting books for class under a beach umbrella.  I'd squeeze out as many minutes as I could there with family and friends, sometimes even driving back to class still wearing my bathing suit with a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt thrown over it.

I remember the only year out of all 11 years that I didn't stay a single night at the cottage.  I walked up and down the boardwalk and the beach, and saw my sister come to my defense as we waited over an hour to be sat at a restaurant.  I was expecting the arrival of my first child literally any day...as I was past my due date...and my son decided to come the Tuesday of the week that my Mom was at her cottage that year.  We now celebrate his birthday each year we're out there.

I remember the year we made a very unplanned, middle-of-the-night trip to the ER with my 2-year-old son and his 6-week-old old sister in tow.  My mom came to the rescue, as my husband wasn't there because he was working.  I was scared and unsure, especially in a town and a hospital not my own, but we were taken such good care of that I knew we were in good hands.  I will forever appreciate everyone who helped make everything OK that night.

I remember the first year we decided to stay for an entire week, because it was easier to pack up everything we needed for a family of 4, including 2 small children, and just stay put, than to come and go a few nights here and there.  [Although this year, for the first time in 5 years, this Mom didn't have to pack diapers or baby food.  And we still stayed for the entire week.  Two words for you:  Ah.  Mazing.]

I remember my children playing on the porch swing, walking the pier, eating ice cream, serving "food" through the porch window, staying up way too late, laughing until it made me laugh out loud with their friends and cousins, putting together puzzles, swimming until their teeth chattered and yet still refusing they were cold, digging in the sand.  They have come to love the cottage just as much as I have.  

Someday, it may become their Place, too.  

Or maybe they'll find a Place all their own.

Either way, my wish for them is simply that they have at least one place that becomes a Place for them, for reasons that are entirely their own.

I wonder how many more years of memories will accumulate in this Place.  I try to forecast what other life events will be tied to this place.  I think about the friends and family that will continue to be linked to this Place, as they are part of the reason it is so much more than just a "place" now, too

I am thankful this Place has welcomed me and stayed with me for so long.  I know now, it will never, ever leave me.

Your Place
Where is your Place?  Have you found it?  Are you still seeking it?

Maybe it's a place you visit everyday, or maybe it's a place you can never go back to again.  Is it a place you love to be by yourself and enjoy solitude, or a place filled with the beautifully chaotic soundtrack that is lots of family and friends?  Maybe it is a place that holds memories or stories or music or love.  Maybe it is a place that holds possibility or opportunity.  Is it a place from a certain period in your life or a time in your life you felt truly alive?  Maybe it is a place that causes to you to think, to reflect, to dream.  Maybe it is a place that just feels like it's a part of you; that it's always been a part of you, no matter what else has changed.  

If you're willing to share, I'd love to hear about your Place...

Whether you are able to travel there in person or simply through precious memories; whether it is a Place all your own or a Place shared with many; whether you have been there countless times or are still seeking it...You Are a Good Mom when you are in a Good Place.

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My Life in the Rocking Chair

"Worry is like a rocking chair.  It gives your something to do, but never gets you anywhere."
~Erma Bombeck

Which bedding set should I get for my baby, that I have yet to even hold in my arms?  Which diapers should I use?  Do I let him cry it out or go in and comfort him?  Should she be crawling yet? Walking? Talking? Should he go into Young 5s or Kindergarten next year?  Is she ready for a sleepover yet?  How much do I help him with his science fair project?  What if no one asks her to the dance?  What if someone DOES?  Which college will he choose?  How will we afford it?  Is he really "the one" for her? From before they are born, until they are parents themselves and beyond, we worry.  Rock, rock, rock...yet we get nowhere.

I am a worrier.  I admit it.  I'm not proud of it, but worry seems to creep into my thoughts whenever it darn well pleases.  It's just there.  It's what we do as moms.  We worry about our kids.  We worry about things we can't control.  We worry about people they have yet to meet, obstacles they have yet to face, challenges they have yet to overcome.  We know we can't be there with them at every moment, and so we hope we are preparing them the best we can to go out and face the world, whether that world is the other kids playing on the playground at the park, the new roommate they meet for the first time as you move them into their dorm room, or unknown co-workers at a first job halfway across the country.

There is such a wide variety and so many options when it comes to worry.  Don't you worry...I seem to have mastered them all.  Let me share a few pages from my personal worry book...

The "I Can't Believe I Did That!" Worry
Scene: Driveway of our day care provider's house on a cold, dark December night, after picking up both of my children.  Life has been overall hectic, and I have just wrestled my oldest (who was 3 1/2 at the time) into his car seat, which took quite a bit of force and effort.  Both kids are successfully strapped in.  I am beyond ready to get home.  Push button on automatic door to close.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!" I say as I turn in slow motion and see my car keys lying on the front seat.  Check doors.  Locked.  Tightly.  All of them.   

"Hey, buddy!  Do you think you can reach your arms out of your straps?!" said hopefully, playfully, as if it's a crazy new game mom invented.  Continue miming how to do this outside of his window.  Son looks at me as if I'm crazy.  He tries, to no avail.  (Note: In the long run, a good thing.  If he could get himself out of his 5-point harness car seat on his own, that is an entirely different set of worries...)

Walk to day care providers front door.  Knock, knock, knock.  "Um, yeah, I know you're trying to start dinner with your own family after an entire day with other people's kids, too, but do you think you could call a tow truck for me?"

Thank goodness our day care provider was a good friend from high school, who stood out in the cold with me with a flashlight waiting for the tow truck and did NOT later call child protective services on me.  Tow truck arrives, and I realize I have forgotten my wallet at home.  Call Mom to get her credit card number to give tow truck driver, and tell her I will pay her back later.  (Thanks, Mom!  You're the original Good Mom!! :)  The fun just never ends, right?

That one was even in my control, so to speak.  It was something I did, and unfortunately, it was not the first or last time I will be guilty of pulling something like that.  The lesson I learned here is don't beat yourself up over it.  It happens.  We're moms and it comes with the territory of being human and having a million things on our plates and on our minds at once.  Get up out of the rocking chair, work to resolve the issue at hand and move on.  

The "What Will They Think?" Worry
Scene: Our little family of 4, the secretaries, and the principal, in the office of my son's preschool, also a K-6 school, the Friday before Christmas break. The secretary has asked my preschooler what Santa will bring for Christmas.  She has asked him about what Santa will bring him, his sister, his mom, and is now asking about his dad.

"I think he'll bring him tools.  He really likes to build stuff."
"Really?  That's neat!"
"Yeah.  He works in the garage a lot.  And this summer, we're gonna build a bat house together! (Note:  This is actually true.  My husband has talked with my son about this upcoming endeavor.)  It's gonna be so fun and I'm gonna wear special glasses and use tools!  And we're gonna catch bats in my bat house from our backyard so we can eat the bat meat (Note: This was NOT part of any conversation my husband has had with him about this upcoming endeavor) and...."

I have no idea what he said after that.  Excuse me...did he just say we would catch the bats and EAT THE MEAT?  Did he just tell the school secretaries we would EAT BAT MEAT?  Seriously?!  Worry sets in...oh no...are we going to be the crazy bat family?  We are going to have children at this school for the next 10 years!  

Thank goodness my aunt is the principal in this scene, and thank goodness the secretaries are the sweetest, most amazing women on the planet, and my aunt just started laughing right along with my husband and I as we all looked at each other.  She saved the day and jumped in with "Where does he get this stuff?"  I'm sure we will inevitably be come to be known as the "something" family over the years, but at least for now, it's NOT the crazy bat family.  

The lesson I learned here is learn to laugh at it.  There is no way we can control the things that come out of our kiddos' mouths...at age 2, at age 8 and most definitely anything that ends with "-teen."  We can't control what other people are going to think of us or our kids, either.  We shouldn't even try.  Get up out of the rocking chair, laugh over whatever goofy/embarrassing/off the wall thing that was said or done, and move on.  

The "Is My Kid Gonna Be Alright?" Worry
Scene: Our house, the weekend after school was out for summer vacation.  Loud "crash" noise comes from my son's room, as I'm in my daughter's room, trying to get her to nap.  Immediately followed by my husband's swift steps up the stairs.

My husband, extremely calmly.  "Carrie, get her dressed.  Grab your keys.  I need you to drive us to the emergency room."  

My heart sinks.  My stomach drops.  My mind is racing.  What happened?  Is everything OK?  Obviously not... (Note: I can handle a lot of of bodily fluids from my kids.  Poop.  Pee.  Boogers.  Puke.  Spit up.  You name it, I've been covered it.  And sometimes in a combination of the above.  Does not phase me in the least.  Except BLOOD.  I don't handle blood so well... like I faint.  Not good.)  

My incredible, calm, level-headed husband is taking care of our son and helping to calm him down and reassuring him, all the while trying to keep me calm.  He has his head wrapped.  They are both covered in blood.  I am worried beyond words, but do my best to get myself and my daughter buckled in the car and ready to go.  As it turns out, my son was running into his bedroom, and either slipped on something or just tripped, and fell and hit his head on the baseboard of his bed just above his eye.  He got a pretty good sized cut, 5 stitches, and now has a faint scar that he loves to tell people about.  

All 4 of us end up spending a few hours at the ER, complete with Toy Story and Popsicles.  When the ER doc comes into our room, he looks at my husband and I and asks us what happened.  Our son pipes up from his bed, with his wounded, wrapped head (he honestly looked like a little miniature Civil War soldier...) and matter-of-factly remarks "I got in a fight with my bed, and the bed won."  

Thank goodness for my incredible, calm, level-headed husband, who got our son through the actual stitches as I took our daughter out to the lobby...and worried the entire time. The lesson I learned here is be there and be present the best you can.  Just having you there and present will do wonders for your kiddo, even if you are scared and worried yourself.  Get up out of the rocking chair, love on your sick/injured/hurting kiddo like crazy, provide comfort and support, and move on.

There are so many other worries that rear their ugly heads throughout the day or night.  I'm guessing that most of you out there have your own to add to this list, too.  If not, please let me in on your secret!

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Even now, my 83-year-old grandpa still worries about my 60-year-old mom. Are you OK driving across town by yourself?  Did you get your power back after the storm?  Do you have an umbrella if it rains?  So I guess it never really stops...we never really totally get up out of the rocking chair.  It's just one of those things that comes with being a mom.  We worry because we love them.  We worry because we want the very best possible life for them.  We worry because they are a little tiny piece of us living out there in the great big world.  We worry because we wish we could make sure that everything will always be "OK," but we know we can't.  We just have to be by their side and love them through it all, no matter what.  

But this post is not just about worry.  It's not just to give you more things to worry about...as if you needed that.  It is to put it out there, so that we know we are not alone in our worry.  To focus on what we can control, and hopefully to provide some encouragement.  

Let love guard against worry.  Take heart in the knowledge that your child is loved beyond words and that they know that.  They can feel it in a way that they don't always show and don't always say.  Sometimes they even say it to the contrary.  

(My 2-year-old daughter cried all the way home the first time she came with me to drop her older brother off at preschool because I wouldn't let her stay at school with him.  After we pulled out of the parking lot, she yelled at me "I need a new mommy!!"  Oh yeah...those teen years are gonna be a ball of fun with this one!)

But no matter the words they sling at us, or the actions they take to try to say otherwise as they assert their independence and try to find their place in this world, they KNOW they are loved.  They know it in a way they can't even put into words.  It is comfort.  It is a warm blanket wrapped tightly around them, even when you are not there.  That is the very best gift we can give them.  They have worth.  They are worth loving.  That sticks with them.  

All those "what ifs...".  All those uncontrollable factors out there.  All those obstacles and challenges they have yet to face.  All those things we worry about in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, for that matter.  All those things do not compare to this one simple truth they know in their soul:  I have been, and continue to be, loved unconditionally.  No matter what they face, what they come up against, that is with them.  YOU have given that to your child...and no amount of worrying can take that away.  

So tonight, let your mind rest at ease, if even for a few minutes.  Let go of the worry, just for a short while.  Give the rocking chair a break.  Know that your child is loved in a way only YOU can love them, loved in a way that can never be taken from them, loved in a way they will never forget.  They will be ready to face all that this world has to throw their way.  Not to say there won't be obstacles or challenges, but that infallible truth of a mother's love will be there with them.  Always.  

Don't worry...You Are a Good Mom.