Chooser

March 8, 2014March 8, 2014 / Sheila / 10 Comments

I often write about the challenges of life at my stage: empty-nester, part-time worker, full-time budding entrepreneur, wife, mom to young adults, grandparent, daughter, friend. The intent is to share the struggles and epiphanies I’m having with the hope of helping someone else who’s struggling too. I haven’t got it sorted out! Life is a work in progress, but I’ve learned a few things along the way. I’m a slow learner, and a late bloomer. But here’s what I know today…

It’s good to be home! I know, it’s a common theme with me. Two weeks out of town for vacation and a family visit, and then two weeks working at the Metlakatla clinic, and I’m done. At least for the next three weeks. These are mine to enjoy at home.

Home is complicated right now. We have a house in Ketchikan, which I love, but we’re spending limited time here these days. Between time working in Metlakatla, and time out and about for personal reasons, days to putter around in my own little nest are hard to come by. It hasn’t always been that way. In fact, most of my life has fit the norm…parenting, working, raising children, and though the location changed a few times throughout the years, the basic pattern was set.

A couple of years ago, Rob backed out of full-time practice with the promise to himself that he was done with that lifestyle. Too stressed, burned out, and exhausted to do full-time medicine any more. So now he works part-time, and for the moment, that’s in three different clinics in SE Alaska.

We tried the arrangement of me working in a full-time position and staying with the house, and him out and about, working, coming home, leaving again to work, coming home, leaving again…it was wearing, and lonely, and not what either of us signed up for. But for Rob, the variety is good. He enjoys moving about a bit. The change-up of the routine is good. And I’ll be honest, he’s not wedded to home and stuff as I am.

I like my stuff. I’ve spent a lot of time and a fair amount of money accumulating what I have. I love to putter about in the kitchen, using the gadgets and tools I have to try new dishes. I love pretty linens on the bed, comfy furnishing that have a look of warmth and tradition. I love the books on my shelves and the art on the walls. It all speaks to me, of people I love or a mood I want to evoke.

But that isn’t what comforts Rob. He’s a wanderer, and a nomad. Through much of our marriage he lived life in the traditional way, because that was the model we knew, and we were raising kids. But that’s changed, and with the empty nest has come new freedom. Freedom for both of us, in different ways. It has freed us financially, to some extent, and it has removed the need to keep a stable home base for growing children.

So now what? I’ve written about making the choice to leave my full-time work. It was two years ago in January. I’ve already lived a semi-nomadic life two years. Some of it has been amazing. Some of it has been fun. And there have been moments of weariness, times when I said, over and over in my mind, like a litany, “I just want my life back. I just want to go home.” Those moments have been few. But they have been part of the tapestry.

This week I said, as we sat over a late breakfast, looking out on the Tongass Narrows from our front windows, that it was good to be home. That I miss my things, that right now, I live a crazy life that keeps me on the run, and often somewhat adrift. Rob looked at me and asked, “Why is that?” I was in the process of answering when I got interrupted, and we never really finished the conversation. But I can finish it. I can give the answer.

I’m living a crazy life right now because I made a choice. I made a choice to match my lifestyle to what was working for my husband. He didn’t demand that I do it. He didn’t make it a requirement of the relationship in any way. I made the choice, and I’m committed to the choice because I realized, after trying to do it differently, it was all or nothing. I couldn’t keep a foot in both camps…happily married and living alone for weeks at a time. It wasn’t good for the relationship, and to be honest, I got almost no pleasure out of my things when I had them all to myself. Things do not replace people. And though I knew it in my head, it wasn’t until I found myself living that reality, that I knew it by heart.

If I learned anything about myself during the time that we lived mostly apart, it was that a lot of my pleasure in homekeeping and cooking comes from the relationships around me. If I’m cooking dinner for the two of us, or for a crowd, I enjoy every piece of it: planning, shopping, prepping, cooking, eating. Even the cleanup is a validation of time well spent, and spent with loved ones. If I’m by myself, I have little-to-no interest in any of it. My enthusiasm dries up. I lost weight when we were living apart. I hated to go to the grocery store, because it wasn’t for anything fun…it was just for food. And what’s the fun in that? And pretty rooms? They just don’t mean much when you wander through them by yourself, trying to enjoy the never-disturbed perfection because there’s no one around to move anything out of its place.

Why am I saying all of this? Because it’s important for me to acknowledge…this crazy life I lead is by choice. I could be home every night, in my bed, eating at my own table. But that’s not the priority of my life. In a few weeks I’ll be in a different setting, camping in the RV again. I’ll have time to write; work on my baby business that’s slowly coming to life; I’ll do some work for the Met clinic via phone and email; and all of that will fit between the plans of the day that Rob and I make together. Because that is my priority. And how can I be ungrateful for that freedom in my life? If this time looks chaotic…if it seems like we’re always on the move…well, we are. It won’t last forever, I’m sure of that. There will be a time when we make different plans…when we move nearer family, and we settle again.

But for now, this is my choice, and claiming it, owning it, helps me avoid the victim mentality when I have one of those moments of just wanting to be home. I am not a victim or a martyr to Rob’s choices. I have made my own. It feels good to recognize: if I hadn’t jumped off the corporate ship, I wouldn’t have some of the opportunities that are on the horizon. I wouldn’t be in the process of developing a design for a logo and business card and a new web site. I wouldn’t be a budding entrepreneur at the ripe age of 53. I wouldn’t have the freedom to work from home, or from the RV. I wouldn’t have the flexibility to make my own commitments. And the reality is, I’m fortunate to have the opportunity and the financial stability to step out on this ledge.

And if I hadn’t jumped off the corporate ship, and into my crazy life, I wouldn’t have the joy of seeing and doing the things that I seen and done in the past years, with the man I chose.

Life is complicated. But it helps if you know that you’re where you are by choice. So I’m a chooser. I’ve learned to choose love over things, experience over money, and freedom over security. I’ve learned that you don’t have to be traditional to be normal; that you can walk a different path and still get where you need to go. And I’ve learned that although head knowledge is good, there’s no replacement for understanding something from the heart. Because the heart gets final say; and if my choice has passed the heart test, I’m on the right path.

Dinner for two…

Love is

February 14, 2014February 14, 2014 / Sheila / 9 Comments

Love is many things and comes in many forms. On this day, Valentine’s, there’s no escaping the commercial message. While I don’t get excited about the day myself, (my personal take) there are so many ways to express love, and thankfully, none revolve around a date on the calendar. These are a few of the joys I celebrate.

Love is:

~ 32 years of marriage: ups, downs, roller-coasters, tears, smiles, joys, kindness. All that, and we still laugh together. We still connect.

~ Love and support for family, and from family: the ties that bind.

~ Watching our son and daughter thrive.

~ Discovering childhood again through the littles, Riley and Jack.

Snow bunnies

~ Watching our daughter play with her babies, build her family.

~ Seeing the relationships of generations ahead of me…enduring, stabilizing, nurturing.

~ Friendships that have stood the test of time.

~ Faith that grounds and secures. I’m not secure in myself, I’m secure in my relationship. Thank God, and grace.

In honor of the day, here are a few new favorite words:

I have seen the best of you, and the worst of you and I choose both. ~ (Pinterest)

I believe in love at first sight…because I am a mom. ~ (Pinterest)

The problem with love these days is that society has taught the human race to stare at people with their eyes rather than their souls. ~ Christopher Poindexter

True love isn’t Romeo and Juliet. It’s Grandma and Grandpa, who grew old together. ~ (Pinterest)

Eventually, soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place. ~ Robert Brault

Children are nestled

December 24, 2013December 24, 2013 / Sheila / 7 Comments

Ah, Christmas Eve, and all is done. Children (grandchildren) are in their beds, Riley dreaming of Christmas, and Jack just dreaming. A one year old is truly satisfied with the boxes and wrappings! But in spite of that, he has a few gifts under the tree.

Riley, at three, (alright, closer to four, in just a few short months) is absorbed by the build-up, the grown-ups’ expectations transmitted to her, and her own sense of something Big To Come. Now and then, in the midst of the craziness of the week before Christmas, she’s said, with all the seriousness of an ancient, “This is the best Christmas ever!” Well, who wouldn’t melt at that?

We’ve been here since Friday, coming down to Seattle a few days early to celebrate Jack’s first birthday on the 20th. Watching his big six-tooth smile, his early attempts at walking…he’s taking a step or two at a time and learning to stand and balance without support…and seeing his move from bottle to cup, from “baby” food to simple table food, I’m glad we have this time with him. By our next visit he’ll be more toddler than baby.

Love those presents!

Riley is the grown-up big sister, learning to build with Duplo blocks, playing with her stable full of My Little Ponies, watching Disney movies. There’s only a couple of years between them, but she seems so big. Literally, she’s as tall as some five year olds. Jack is almost 30 pounds. Stephanie and Matt grow sturdy little people.

Well, you can’t go back in time, but you can go forward. My turn to have children staring up at the lights on the tree has ended. But through the magic of generations, I get to join in the fun again, watching Stephanie’s two. Life is sweet, balanced between the funny and the poignant.

And so we watch. We watch for Rudolph, and Santa, and wonder about the morning. We’ve got cinnamon rolls and sausage balls and Christmas coffee for the adults, and sugar plums for the little ones, snug upstairs. Come on, Santa. We’re ready!

Happy Jack!

Merry Christmas!

Song for the season

December 15, 2013 / Sheila / 6 Comments

Just found this recording of Silent Night by Enya, from her album And Winter Came, 2008. Beautiful! I’ve been a fan of hers for many years (thanks to my brother, Steve, for introducing me to her amazing music, many moons ago). She performs with a Gaelic children’s choir. I heard this playing yesterday as I was busily working on some holiday projects…literally stopped me in my tracks. Hope you enjoy!

Perspective

November 27, 2013 / Sheila / 6 Comments

Counting blessings…remembering what’s real…

Do you bemember?

November 17, 2013November 18, 2013 / Sheila / 5 Comments

We recently spent a weekend in Seattle with Stephanie and Matt and their little ones. I’m enchanted watching Riley and Jack, listening to three-year-old Riley chatter away, and baby Jack’s belly laugh and funny growl when he’s trying out his voice. They’re absolutely delicious. I feel myself being pulled in, helpless to resist the charm of childhood.

Jack’s 1st haircut

Riley is living up to her heritage, a talker who’ll be able to hold her own. She’s not afraid of words. She speaks clearly, only missing now and then with pronunciation. One of her “Riley-isms” is “bemember.” No one is correcting the mistake…it won’t be long till she figures out for herself that it’s “remember.” But meantime, it’s precious to hear her asking, “do you bemember?” And yes, yes we do.

Sunday she was reaching into the pantry for cookies. There was a spill, the cookies landed on the floor, and suddenly we heard a little voice saying, “Not good, Mommy. Not good!” She was a little bit reporter, a little dismayed. The tone was perfect. The adults couldn’t keep from laughing at the grown up response.

She’s all about pretend. She mixes the characters from Disney movies, princess books, toys, and imagination without discrimination. Sometimes she’s featured as the lead of the drama, clomping about the house in her costume “glass” slippers and sporting Minnie Mouse ears, a veil, and one of her princess dresses. Or she may top off the dress with a pirate hat, or a Doc McStuffins stethoscope. Pink figures largely in her wardrobe. Never mind, it’s all good. Storytelling is just an ability to weave a thread though characters and events, which she does effortlessly. The story may not resemble anything we know. But she’s learned to preface her beginning with “Pretend…..”

Riley the Storyteller

Baby Jack has mastered crawling, and he’s reached the curious stage. As in, he’s checking out everything he can grasp. Objects mysteriously disappear in front of him. He works hard at it, but so far parents are faster. So far. And Riley is learning to protect her stuff from his little hands. She’s seen the future, and it has a large imprint of Jack. Jack is all boy, and he’s going to be a climber. He’s a snuggler, still curls up and hugs your shoulder when he’s sleepy. He’s almost eleven months, rounding the corner to the homestretch of his first year. He’s starting to stand, and pull up to furniture. Walking will be a quick step for him, and then the baby days will be behind, toddler months ahead.

I find myself missing them, smiling when I see their photos stream across my screen. I miss their funny expressions, the imprint of childhood that captures my attention and keeps bringing me back to a view of the world through their eyes, at their level.

The days pass as quickly this go-round as they did with my kids. I’m shocked when I look at the calendar and realize Jack will be a year old in December. Riley will be four in April. I have a lot of the same feelings, 25 years later, as I had when I was the mom.

But now, as Gram, I’m a little wiser. I know the time flies, and the kids grow. I know that it’s more important to enjoy the moment rather than mourn how quickly it’s flying by. I know you can’t have too many photos, but you can have too many toys. I know spending time with them is more important than spending money on them. I know that kids need boundaries as much as they need love, and they gain security from consistency.

I hope I gave my kids these gifts, in some measure. But I know I’m better prepared to share all this with Riley and Jack because I’ve done it before. I practiced first on my two. And now, with the benefit of repetition, and standing in line behind the parents, I’m privileged to nurture again, and to witness, and to mark their moments.

“Sunsets, like childhood, are viewed with wonder not just because they are beautiful but because they are fleeting.” ~ Richard Paul Evans

Grace of giving

November 7, 2013November 7, 2013 / Sheila / 7 Comments

The giving season is here. Once again, condensed into a few short weeks of voluntary (!) opportunity, giving takes center stage.

I’m not one of those smart people who spreads the task of gift collecting around the calendar. I like to be in the season, in the mood, and inspired by the sights and sounds of holiday. I do a lot of my shopping on line for the convenience factor. And living in Alaska means that most of my gifts will be shipped, so it’s easier to shop and ship sitting warm and cozy in my living room. And the store’s always open!

But for all the convenience and variety, online buying is a lonely experience.

Every year, I like to get out to the stores and do a little of my shopping the old fashioned way. Face to face with the shimmer of lights and color, it’s easy to get in the mood to give. I love the icons of the holidays. Thanksgiving and Christmas, at their best, bring out the best in people. And if some treat gift-giving as a competitive sport, there are plenty of others who offer selfless sharing where it’s needed most.

While I’m out looking for the perfect items to go under the tree, I see potential that needs no tree, no names, and small effort. But these acts of kindness warm me down to my toes, put a smile on my face, take me out of myself and my small world.

At the grocery store I see a table set up outside the door, manned by volunteers collecting items for a children’s food pantry. They hand out cards that list the items they’re collecting. Pick up a few things for them while I shop, drop off on my way to my car, and snap! the good deed’s done. And all I had to do was throw a few things in my cart and hand them off. Yes I paid for them. But these small donations don’t make a big dent in a food budget, yet it all adds up to meals for hungry kids.

Another way to give at the grocery…my Safeway invites customers to add a dollar or three or five to their total bill. The extra is donated to the cause of the month, often to organizations that are fighting specific diseases. I like to say yes, even if I only add a dollar or two.

Angel trees, Toys for Tots and programs like these, provide gifts where they’re needed most. I’ll be honest to say, though I’ve never felt wealthy, my kids never wondered if there would be gifts for them on Christmas morning. One of the saddest things to see the day or two before Christmas is an angel tree with names still attached. I always wonder about those names.

There’s always giving through my church, in the community and outside it, sending dollars to be foot soldiers and ambassadors of goodwill. Often churches give to local families that have special needs, and that’s a wonderful way to connect.

There are endless ways to take part, join in, reach out. This season, I’d like to challenge anyone reading to make a difference. Be deliberate and intentional about giving. If you can, remain anonymous. That’s actually part of the fun.

You can give your money…that’s easiest for some, hardest for others.
You can give your time…that’s easiest for some, hardest for others.
You can give your cheerfulness and smiles. I love to smile at a customer service worker when the line is backed up or when they’ve had a grumpy customer in front of me. I like to let them know I’m in their corner. Anyone who’s ever worked in a customer service position will understand this. The relief of meeting patience, kindness, niceness, after a difficult customer…well, that can turn a miserable moment into sunshine. I know, because I’ve been there.
Buy something…anything…from kids selling door to door. I went on many a band trip financed from candy and calendar sales, and my kids did their share of fundraising too. Be a “yes” house! Don’t disappear when you see them coming down your street.
Take food in to work, to friends, to any place you volunteer. Food is always welcome!
Here’s an idea I saw tonight…put together gallon ziplock bags of things that homeless people could use…travel sized toiletries, granola bars, chap stick, gum, tissue packs, etc. Keep them in your car to give when you see a need.
Give to a veteran’s organization. Enough said.
Pay a toll or some other fee for the person in line behind you.
Adopt a family that needs assistance and give to them anonymously. Leave a box with the makings of a holiday dinner and wrapped gifts at their door. Neither you nor the recipients will ever forget that box.
Give airline miles if you have them and know of someone who needs them.
Many companies allow employees to donate leave time to co-workers who have a medical or family need. You could consider donating time to a fellow employee who’s missing a paycheck because they’re out of paid leave but can’t return to work yet.
Find a cause or group that speaks to you and give to it on a regular basis.
Give spontaneously to something you’ve not supported before.
Give generously. At the risk of making assumptions, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that anyone reading this has first world problems. And if that’s true, generosity, on some level, is within your power.
At the other end of the spectrum, I sometimes think that giving on a regular basis is more important than the actual dollar value of a donation. I waffle on this…is it better to give a large amount to one or two good causes, or to spread the giving around? But however it’s done, good will be done, I’m convinced of that.

And finally, a few truths:

Some gifts will be wasted, unappreciated, lost. That’s sad. But even when this happens, it doesn’t diminish the choice to give, and the good that choice does for the giver.

If at all possible, make giving a family activity. Involve your kids or grandkids, not to impress them with your generous spirit, but to teach them to develop their own.

Speaking honestly, my giving to others is like a boomerang…it comes right back, in an emotional reward if no other way. Giving doesn’t make me a saint…I give because it feeds and nurtures me to give as much as it helps the ones who receive.

I give because it’s the right thing to do, and the heart knows that instinctively.

I believe the impulse to share is one of the best traits of humanity, and it’s built in. We just have to nurture that trait.

I give because others have given to me, and I’m grateful to be on the giving end of the equation.

It’s a little too early to be sending out holiday greetings, but maybe this is a way to launch the season. Be mindful of opportunities and look for the joy.

“The only people with whom you should try to get even are those who have helped you.”
― John E. Southard

She’s thirty

November 1, 2013November 1, 2013 / Sheila / 14 Comments

Stephanie & Jack

Friday, November 1st, and we’re heading to Seattle for a long weekend. We’re going down to celebrate, and mark the moment, and wonder where the time has gone. Stephanie turns thirty – 30! – tomorrow. I’ve joked that I’m not sure who is more traumatized between us. I think it’s me. She’s actually excited to be leaving the 20s behind, and feel that she’s fully a member of the adult world.

I’m excited for her. She’s a wife, and a mom, and a teacher, a home-owner, a tax payer. She sees this milestone as a cap to a decade of growth and achievement. A Type-A first-born, she powers through to her goals.

I’m nostalgic. I vaguely remember my mom turning thirty. I clearly remember myself turning thirty. I’m utterly astonished that my daughter could be hitting this marker. Decade birthdays cause reflection, my daughter’s no less than my own. I look at her and have flashbacks to earlier years. Photos and videos tell her story, interwoven with lives of family, friends, and now, her husband and little ones.

I’m proud. She’s funny and smart and pretty, and she’s kind. She follows her faith. She’s organized and creative. She remembers birthdays, calls her grandparents. She’s a better mom than I think I was…firmer, and more disciplined. She’s a strong woman.

I’m humbled. Motherhood will do that. From birth to now, I’ve watched her grow, with awe. She is unique, as all individuals are; yet watching her develop has taught me that from mother to child, the generations repeat the rhythms of life. I hear her talk about Riley and Jack, about her life and her epiphanies, and I identify. Yes, I remember feeling that. I learned that lesson too. I’ve experienced the same emotions as she does. I’m just a few years further along the path. And with the vision of my 53 year-old eyes, I see that my mom, and my grandmothers before, did the same things, said the same things. We are linked by blood, but maybe more importantly, by common experience. With all the changes in the world, we are much the same at heart. Technology and fashions change. Love doesn’t.

One of my favorite quotes of motherhood says that once you have a child, your heart is forever walking around outside your body. That’s more true today than the day she was born. The love for the newborn grows and matures, just like the person. And now, thirty years rich with experience and memory, that love is a deep current that flows between us, mother and daughter. Not often spoken, but always there.

One of my favorite things about now is the ability to talk. We talk daily. Sometimes multiple times a day, usually short exchanges that keep us connected and rooted in the other’s life. The minute-to-minute events of childhood or traffic or a new haircut are the stuff of our conversations. Mostly. Sometimes we wander into deeper stuff, baring our hearts for a few minutes. But largely, through the magic of technology, we have a running dialog of the day-to-day.

Tomorrow we’ll treat her, and ourselves. We’ll open gifts and have dinner out, topped off with cheesecake. We’ll do photos and drink a toast to the day. Rob has a sentimental gift for her. I went with the more practical approach. I’m giving her a new camera for the coming decade. I expect lots of sweet shots to add to my digital collection.

Happy birthday to my daughter, my first born, my one and only Stephanie. You have been a joy and a delight! May you have many more to come, and may you be rich with love, opportunities to serve, and satisfaction from life well done. My deepest wish for you is that you experience the reward of relationships. Nothing is better than a life well lived, and full of love. But you already know that. You’re thirty now!

Digging deep

September 9, 2013September 9, 2013 / Sheila / 18 Comments

The Empress Hotel in Victoria, British Columbia

The Empress Hotel, Victoria, British Columbia

We’re spending the week with our son.

We don’t get to do that often enough these days. Right after high school he joined the army and we moved to Alaska. And for the next five years we saw him in bits and pieces, he a cog in the great wheel of the army’s posting and leave schedule, and us connecting when we could match our opportunity to his availability. It was tricky, during those years, but we managed.

We’ve kept up, and kept in contact. I saw him in March, we spent a few days with him back in May, and will see him again at Thanksgiving. We’re making up, a little bit, for lost time. Getting to know him again, and learning about this kid who turned 26 in June. Twenty-six! How did that happen?

It’s often funny, hearing his take on life, catching his humor, his jokes, learning about his likes and dislikes…weaving the fabric with first hand knowledge and time spent face to face.

It’s sometimes hard. He’s not always easy, often stubborn and opinionated. He’s a mix of the two of us, and at the same time, so different from either of us. Life and loss have left a mark. The army experience, both good and bad, and a young marriage that added to the statistics of military marriages, shaped him. He’s finding his way, and so are we.

We laugh and enjoy. It’s easy to be with him.

We tread warily. Rekindled relationships can be fragile. This one needs to strengthen a bit, solidify again.

I find my heart is fragile too, anxious that the week be good, something we’ll all remember with smiles, and a desire to repeat.

Re-connection requires effort. Life gives us people and relationships, but it’s up to us to nurture and make them thrive. So I dig deep, tell my mother’s heart that all will be well.

We’re in Victoria, British Columbia. It’s beautiful and warm, the September sunshine pretending to be a gift of summer. We’ve picked an Irish and a Scottish pub for dinner the nights they have live music, and we’re walking the town and driving the coast. Laid back, charming, and just touristy enough to keep the focus on fun.

How does it happen that you feel you have to get acquainted with the boy you birthed? I know his top layers, but the deeper stuff…well, that’s been forming in the past few years, and I’ve not been with him enough to know his depths.

So I dig deep, mostly within myself…he will have to do his own digging, his own opening, when he’s ready. It is not for me to make demands. He’s his own person now, and I respect that separateness. I just keep it light, make sure he knows he has a home in my heart, so when he wants to land there for a while, he can.

It’s delicate, being a parent to young adults. You play the game of giving them space and respect, but your heart really wants to just make everything right for them. Can’t do it, they have to. I dig deep to get it just right, to hold back, to open up. Exhausting. Fulfilling. It’s hard work. It’s heart work.

Mama and Rilo

July 21, 2013July 21, 2013 / Sheila / 8 Comments

Stephanie and Riley play a name game. Riley, who knows Stephanie prefers “Mommy” to “Mama,” sometimes says “Mama” just to see Stephanie’s reaction. Stephanie responds by saying “Rilo!” They go back and forth a few times before they fall into silly laughter. It’s fun to watch. I couldn’t have guessed that it would be so meaningful to me to see my daughter in the role of mom. I see the ways she parents like me and I have to admit, it is gratifying…makes me feel that I must have done some things right. I see the ways she is a better parent than I was and it is humbling. She is more consistent: firm, but not too firm. She’s more organized. She probably has an advantage dealing with the demands of parenting as she’s practiced the required skills on middle school math students. In my opinion, anyone who can face middle school every day can handle the single digit ages with one hand tied.

In the ongoing reveal that comes with each stage of life and parenting…now playing that role to a 26 and (gasp!) 29 year old…I’m struck with the epiphany: the more things change, the more they remain the same. In the position of the in-between generation I see how my mom and my daughter experience life….what has changed, what hasn’t. I hear my daughter say the things I said: how quickly children grow, how you can’t believe they’re already a year old, two, three….fill in the blank. My mom talks about how things were when she had children…no car seats, no seat belts, no disposable diapers, she was a stay-at-home-mom. My daughter has two car seats, has used disposable diapers, and by choice, is moving to cloth. She has a sitter for the school months when she works as a teacher. She makes baby food and takes the kids to the gym. But regardless of the externals of life, the work and joys of parenting children are really timeless.

Somehow, like a kaleidoscope turning, the pieces fall into place. I see my place in the continuum. Looking through photos of my children’s baby days, toddler days, school days, it seems like yesterday that I was the young mom; and, it seems like a lifetime ago that I was the young mom. Reminds me again, as Gretchen Rubin says, “the days are long, but the years are short.”

Stephanie and the little ones, Riley and Jack, just spent a week with us. It was delicious to see them and be part of the minute-to-minute, day-to-day. We picked strawberries, made jam, went to the library, the pool, saw fish, did a little shopping, watched Disney princesses, read books, made cupcakes, snuggled, played, splashed, and snapped photos. The days were long. But watching Riley, already three years old, and little Jack, cuddly six month old getting ready to crawl, I know: the years will be short. There’s no way to slow it down. The lesson of life is to savor the moment, drink in the details…their funny words or looks, the precious flashes of childhood that are often buried in all the work of childhood…the memories that write themselves on the heart and cement the bond between generations, parent to child, parent to child.

Riley and Jack in Alaska, Summer, 2013