Lessons I teach my kids

Not so long ago, but long ago

When I became a mother, I planned. I read.

Nothing prepared me for the reality of it, not babysitting or reading or thinking about being a parent. I was granted three wonderful children who are terrifically different in their temperaments, preferences and every other thing that could possibly be different.

That said, it occasionally falls upon me to impart wisdom, advice--life lessons, if you will--to my darling children.

Here's a list (in no particular order) of lessons I never dreamed of teaching my children, yet have found the need to discuss--sometimes at length--with my offspring.

• Never open the car door or window to the crazy drug addict.

If someone runs up to your car, yelling that they are dying of the AIDS virus and need money for the bus, there is something wrong, indeed. Not something you can fix by handing them money. Something you should lock your doors and keep your windows closed against. This is especially true since a lot of people in Cleveland have guns (sometimes even with concealed carry permits) and the person running up to the car CLEARLY forgot this, meaning something is VERY wrong with them, so just drive away. Quickly.

The gang, now

• But do pull over and help sometimes.

There is a really fine line and trust your gut on that one. My kids know I’ll pull over (have done so and even driven 5mi for gas for someone, gave it to them way out of my way and making myself late, before returning to whatever I was doing when I saw the person alongside the road), but I don’t pull over for the bus money people. There’s a time, your gut knows the time, trust your gut and you probably (not guaranteed) won’t get killed. But you can’t not help…being a helper is one of the greatest things you can do with your life, in my opinion.

• Sometimes it is okay to be angry.

It is also okay to be sad. It is okay to be hurt. You don’t have to pretend not to be any of those things. Chances are good, though, if you let those emotions rule you—which they will try to do—you won’t remember to choose to be happy. Because it is a choice. Life will drag you down, worse than any riptide out there, but you can’t let it. Although you gotta try to find the happy, to find the way to get past the sad/hurt/angry/whatever, you are ALLOWED to feel those emotions. You don’t have to bury them under fake smiles or otherwise hide what you’re feeling…you’re allowed to feel bad things. I’ve found people are happy to tell folks to be happy, but they forget to let them cry. I try to let them feel all of it because, well, life is full of both good and bad. Ignoring any part of it, or pretending it away, is not living life fully. Embrace your tears and your laughter. The best days are the ones when the laughs outnumber the tears.

• Other people are going to be angry, too.

And sometimes you can’t do a thing about it. We met an angry security guard at the cemetery the other day. He was just…ticked. I don’t know what his personal issues were and he certainly was in no mood to chat about it. Sometimes you can help—be the shoulder to cry on, be the person they vent to. Others? Sometimes you just have to let others feel what they’re feeling and walk away. You can’t fix everything and if more people admitted to that, they’d spend less time worrying over things they couldn’t change.

• Sometimes it is your fault they are hurt/angry/sad.

If you can, make it right. Own up to what you did and try to make amends for your transgression. Other times…
They’re going to feel how they feel and there’s not a thing you can do about it. Learn to accept that you can’t control how others feel or think and worry about what you can control—yourself.

• Language is powerful.

You can use it to hurt. You can use it to heal. Sometimes, you don’t intend to and you do one or both things…
Remember your words have power. Remember your words can change the world, or even change a person.

Choose them accordingly.

What are some lessons you never planned to teach your kids, but did anyway?

Mothers Always Know

I was watching Kathy Lee and Hoda this morning (something I do although I'm still not sure why every morning...maybe some remnant of my own childhood that says grown-ups watch Today? I dunno.) and they had a woman on who wrote a book called Motherhood Comes Naturally.

Kathy Lee made fun of her--maybe it was supposed to be funny, but Kathy Lee came off just a smidgen...*clears throat* judgy.

"I don't know why you kept having children."
"You couldn't tell a broken arm from gas?"

*clears throat*

Well, I think my previous blogs have shown I'm not a perfect mom. I don't cook, for one, something I've been advised will cause massive obesity in my children (none are yet, at 15, 13, 11, but I've been told it will happen.) and I also don't have the magical mommy senses.

My mom claimed she had magical mommy senses, you know, the ability to tell when something was wrong? I had two strokes and she told me to go to work because I couldn't miss for a little headache. Mommy senses fail.

My own magical mommy senses are a complete wash. I figured that out YEARS ago. My daughter

had appendicitis when she was nine...and that's supposed to hurt, right? Yeah, she showed all the signs of intestinal flu. Nausea, diarrhea...and she said her belly hurt. Well, if you're spouting fluids from both ends, your tummy does hurt. I gave her ibuprofen and a teddy bear and she felt better. OBVIOUSLY not something serious, right?

Took her to the docs and they said to go up to the hospital and get checked--to verify it wasn't appendix. The hospital basically laughed it off. "If it was her appendix, she'd be in major pain."

Yeah, I thought, standing in my uniform for work, that's what I thought. But, hey, they could give her meds for the nausea, throw her on a banana bag, and she'd feel better.

They tested white blood cells, which should be through the roof for appendix. It came back low, if anything, but we'll do another test. By then, she's dozing and I figure that's the meds working/fluids...sleep is good.

They tested c-cells. Inconclusive.

They decided to do another test and actually look inside her. I roused her, made her drink the stuff they needed for the test, let her go back to drowsing and waited. We did the test, she went back to sleep. I stared at my watch, imagining the bills that wouldn't get paid this week because of this little visit...

A man walked in, carrying a clipboard. He looked a lot like Colonel Sanders. The chicken guy? I will always remember Colonel Sanders' words. "Do you want Rainbow Babies or Cleveland Clinic?"

Me, "For what?"
The King of Chicken, "To transfer to on the life flight?"
Me, "For the flu?"
Colonel Sanders shifts and looks uncomfortable. "For the emergency surgery?"
Me, "Do you have the right room?"
Colonel Sanders, "Didn't they tell you? Your daughter's appendix is gangrene. They have to do emergency surgery. Her immune system has shut down, her digestive system shut down, and her nervous system is in distress. She needs surgery--tonight!"

Me, "Uh..."

My mommy senses didn't know ANY of that. Now, every time she gets the flu, she asks me if her appendix ruptured again. And the boys get rushed to the hospital EVERY time they get the flu. Just in case. Because I'm not psychic, apparently.

(As to the emergency surgery? Yeah, Colonel Sanders was wrong. Rainbows didn't hack open my child in frantic panic. Weeks, for the whole process, but she's fine.)

So, well, the point of this rant is, Kathy Lee...don't be judgy. I'm a good mama and that woman with the funny book looked like she might be, too. It doesn't mean we're all psychic. Sometimes Mommy-dar goes off and it's just a fever. Sometimes it doesn't go off and it's a broken arm or an exploded appendix.

This doesn't mean you're a bad mom. It means you're human, you try your hardest, but sometimes you make mistakes.

Mother's don't always know. But the good ones? They try. Which is even better than knowing, in my opinion.