True Calling

you have a gift

Each person has his or her own gift.  Each of us has our own calling.  It’s not always, though that we find out right away what that calling is…

I used to ask myself what my calling is.  Whereas some people knew right away what they wanted to be or what they see themselves doing, I, for the longest time, was quite clueless.  I knew I was smart enough and I could be hardworking enough so I could pretty much do whatever task or job I would set my mind on. 

But then again, there are things that one does out of need… ie, because one needs a job and it’s the only job available… or because one feels the need to prove something to other people that they do things that others expect them to do.

And then there are the things we do out of passion.  Things we do because our hearts call out for it.  Things that make us feel more alive.   Things that give us the feeling of importance… a sense of purpose. 

Like I said, there are fortunate ones who know their gifts and get to use them in day jobs.  To those who can’t quite figure out what they are called to do… or those who are still uneasy about showcasing their God-given talents, well, it can be a struggle. 

~*~

Certified M.O.M.

I like love being a mom.  I love being a hands-on mom.  Despite everything I heard — the disbelief, the negative remarks, the dismay — when people found out that I chose being a full-time mom over being a career woman, I was never sorry about my choice.  If there is one thing that I know I am firm about, it’s the decision that my son will always, ALWAYS come first. 

Some people think it’s easy.  People from the outside think that being  “just” a mom is synonymous to not doing anything (wait ’til they see my daily ‘to-do list’). Well, it’s not that simple. Motherhood is not easy.  Raising an individual and making sure that said individual will grow up to be a decent, loving, God-fearing human being is a challenge.  Parenting does not come with a manual.  Mothers make mistakes, too.  We try to be good role models to our kids, but we do trip and fall sometimes.  And we have to rectify our mistakes, and at times, swallow our pride, so we can teach our kids what is right. 

Motherhood is not just about giving birth.  It is about molding, shaping, loving the child that you brought into this world.    It is about giving one’s time, attention, one’s heart… one’s self to the child.   

There is nothing easy about that.

~ * ~

One thing I like about being a full time mom is that I am given the chance to extend myself to other children, as well.  Sometimes it’s not just my son that I take care of.  There’s my nephew — who practically grew up with me, and even my son’s friends when needed. 

My friend and her husband had to go out of town for four days last week.  And so for four nights and four days, they left their two boys, Super Slugger and Whiz Kid (aged 10 and 12) with us.  They are my son’s baseball teammates and really good friends so you can imagine how happy the boys were when they found out they will be together for four whole days.    

It wasn’t just a regular “go to school” schedule for the three boys, believe me.  The boys had full schedules going into the weekend.  Full meaning baseball tournament for Super Slugger, Math contest for Superson, Computer contest for Whiz Kid.  Our mornings began at 5:30 am and our nights ended well, pretty late (tell me, how do you make three boys sleep early?!).  My days consisted of shuttling them to and from school, or waiting for them to finish their practices, or watching Super Slugger’s games.  I had to make sure they were well fed, hydrated, with homeworks done… I had to make sure they woke up early, their uniforms were complete, they had enough socks and underwear…  

I had to make sure they were happy and not in anyway homesick.  I was particularly more mindful of Super Slugger because he had a three-day tournament and I didn’t want him to feel alone so I watched every game that I possibly could. 

It was a busy and tiring weekend. But my heart was quite full.  I was happy because I was doing what I do best.  I was being a mom… and I was extending it to other children.  I was in my element.   

You know what made the whole thing more special?  It’s the realization that my friends trust me enough to leave their children under my care.  Knowing that they can entrust their kids to either their relatives or other friends, but still they chose me to take care of their children, doesn’t that say something?  Isn’t that a high form of compliment that not everyone gets freely?

~ * ~

We are all called to do something.  Sometimes we have to dig deep to find out what we are called to do, what our purpose is.  Oftentimes we make the mistake of comparing ourselves to others… we think that they are more special, or their gifts are more important, more valuable.

What do you do best?  What does your heart tell you to do?  What skills and talents do you have?  Find your purpose.  Find your passion.  Find your calling.  Stop comparing yourself to others (like what I’ve done half of my life) because you are who you are.  Just be the best you that you can possibly be.

I am a mother… and I strive to be the best mother that I can be. 

In the end, that’s all that matters.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

photos via weheartit.com

Love Thyself

Supergoddess Me

Female:  “I can’t think of a name for my blog.”

Friend:  “Why not Supergoddess?  It fits you.”

Female:  “Hmm. You’re right.  It does, doesn’t it? Thanks!”

AND then Supergoddess Me was born…

~ * ~

I wasn’t always this cocky… confident… sure of myself.  Believe me, once upon a time, I was this shy, timid girl with inferiority complex who gets sick in the stomach and vomits everytime she’s nervous.  Okay, so maybe that still happens to me ’til today (old habits die hard), but I am far different from who-what-how I was years ago.

I grew up under the shadow of an older sister.  Older sister was smart, confident, outgoing, no-nonsense type of girl… a real toughie.  She was also the nanny’s favorite.  And since we were left with our nanny for the most part of our growing up days, well, older sister basically ruled.  Nanny just adored her and everybody knows about it.  I for one, knew about it.  How can I not when I was always, ALWAYS being compared to her?

She’s not as tough… She can’t be on her own, she might get lost… She’s so nice, people will take advantage of her… She can’t take care of herself… She’s NOT a lawyer she won’t know what to do…

Those were but some of the words I heard spoken about me.  And somehow, they stuck.  When you are young, you are easily influenced by what others think about you.  Give a child words of encouragement, and you will build her confidence.  Tell a child how disappointing you think she is, and you will easily see the change on how she sees herself.  Eventually she will prove that she IS a disappointment if that is what you keep ingraining in her. 

For some time when I was growing up,  I think my self-esteem was subzero.  Self worth… uhm, what self worth?

My confidence level improved somewhat when I was in high school.  I realized that I was smart enough.  I was a diligent student, too.  And so I studied hard, made sure that my grades were above average, so I had something to be proud of.  Something to feel good about.  I knew, as well, that my parents would be proud of me, too, if I kept getting good grades.  I was somewhat active in high school. I had a lot of friends, I joined contests and clubs, but I made it a point to hit the books whenever needed — which was all the time.  I was a closet nerd. 

College was another thing, though.  The university was big, the course was tough, I had to make new friends, so it was pretty much like going back to square one.  I had to prove myself all over.  I was a diligent student still, yet I guess my shy side prevented me from shining.

I think it was when I started working that my transformation took place.  It was then that I realized that there’s nothing wrong with being nice, or patient, nor is it bad to smile a lot.  In a way I looked at  my being “charming” as an advantage.  It made people warm up to me.  Being friendly and approachable helped.  Eventually as they found out that I had brains, too, well I guess I gained their respect more.

But more than what the others may think about me, my confidence level grew when I started seeing myself differently.  It was when I stopped comparing myself to others — my sister, my mom, my friends– that I began to value myself more.  It was when I accepted myself for who I am that I understood what self-worth is all about.

Oh yes, I still had my moments.  There still were people who tried to bring out the insecure, inferiority complexed person in me.  In my past life, I went out with someone who was emotionally abusive.  For some time I was inching back to subzero… It took the intervention of my best friends to make me realize that I shouldn’t let anyone trample on my self-esteem, nor should I start comparing myself to other women… specially when, according to them, I am already several levels high up.  Thank God for caring friends!

One YOU

We are all unique individuals.  Our differences make us who we are.  Our differences make us special.  We are all an “original” given our strengths, as well as our flaws and imperfections.  Our self worth should not be dependent on other people. 

You don’t need another person to define you. 

 

What’s important is that you KNOW yourself.

And LOVE yourself.

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

photos via weheartit.com

Baseball, bullying and band aids

@#$%!!!

… The bases are loaded.  Before the next batter steps up on the plate, a voice from somewhere near the dug-out of the fielding team calls out… “Third baseman! When the ball goes your way, tag the other runner out then throw to home, okay? Don’t forget, throw to home!!” 

No, it wasn’t the voice of the coach. It was the voice of third-baseman’s-dad-who’s-not-even-parent-coach.

Ball goes to third baseman’s direction.  It was a drive that third baseman failed to block properly.  Third baseman fumbles then gets the ball.  Runner from second was already safe at third.  Third baseman throws to home but was a couple of seconds too late.  The opposing team earned a point.

Then came the voice — again — from the not so distant dug-out…  getting very near the third base.

“&$%@ Why didn’t you block properly?! @$%@ I told you to throw to home!  Why didn’t you throw the ball right away??!”

And as if that wasn’t enough…  “Next time you move faster.  And you listen to what I tell you!! “

Third baseman just stares at the source of the tirade. Nobody else says a word.  But the whole field could feel the tension.

~ * ~

I love baseball.  Ever since my son started playing the sport, I easily became a baseball mom.  Despite the heat — or at times the rain, despite the early mornings and the long hours, I can still honestly say that I enjoy watching the games. 

Over the years, I have made friends with different parents.  Parents of my son’s teammates… parents of the kids from the opposing teams.  Somehow one cannot help but get to know most of them, specially since our kids always play together or against each other year in and year out.

I enjoy meeting new people and making new friends.  I like warm and friendly people.  People who make you feel like you’re part of one big happy family.  People whose children you would want your child to be friends with, as well.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if everybody’s just nice to each other??

Yet there are the  “others.”  In my book, they are the “special ones.”  Special because they seem to contradict every parenting belief that I have or that I adhere to.  Somehow, you listen to them and you just want to shake your head in disbelief.

I don’t really understand how some people can just berate their kids in front of — well, everyone watching the game.  The scenario above is not a work of fiction.  Truly, there are parents who can’t seem to keep themselves from getting angry at their child in front of everybody.  And it’s not even just mild anger… they go ballistic when their child fumbles, and shouts at the poor kid right there in the middle of the diamond, during the game. 

How humiliating can that be?

~ * ~

a family that shouts together...

As parents, we have to be careful about how we react or respond to situations.  When watching tournaments like these, sometimes the game gets so intense that the parents get involved… too involved even.  Unfortunately, there are those who can’t seem to control themselves and who berate their children right then and there.  Like fumbling is a mortal sin and the child deserves to be punished for making a mistake.  

I remember seeing this father and son tandem before… Son plays shortstop, father coaches from the bleachers (unsolicited coaching).   Everytime the child makes a move, the dad tells him what the next move should be.  Dad probably thinks he holds a remote control and the son is supposed to be controlled.   Whenever the child fumbles, the dad with his ever booming voice calls out the boy’s name and points out the mistake.   Does the child clam up when the dad’s scolding him?  No way.  Son answers back.  Shouts at the dad, as well.  Every single person on the field — playing or not — could hear the exchange.  One can only wonder how things go when they are back home. 

So, do we blame the child for being disrespectful?  Isn’t he just looking after himself since as we all witnessed, the dad was giving him a barrage of expletives in front of everybody?

Shouldn’t parents be the first ones to show respect to their own kids for the latter to know what respect really means?

~ * ~

Worst and most immature reaction I have witnessed so far in a baseball game: 
Runner rammed into 2nd baseman on the field.  2nd baseman fell to the ground, writhed in pain… Father of the runner stood up from where he was sitting… raised his hand with balled fist and cheered their school cheer.  Looked so happy and proud that a player from the opposing team got hurt.

Unbelievable. What was this parent teaching his kid, as well as the other children who saw him?  That it’s okay to hurt your opponent as long as you get ahead? 

Isn’t that what you call bullying?

~ * ~

scarred for life

We encourage our children to join sports because of the many positive things that they will learn.  They learn about discipline, hard work, teamwork…  Sports can bring out the best in our kids, make them want to give their all always.  And during those times when they lose a game, they still learn something from the experience.  They learn about humility. They learn about standing up again after a mistake or a loss.   This is what parents should foster in their kids.  How to be magnanimous in victory and how to lose with grace.

My heart breaks everytime I see a child being publicly humiliated by his own parents.  I am outraged when adults bully children who are one third their age.  It is just so low.  Because tournament or no tournament, at the end of the day, it is still just a game. 

In time, the scores will be forgotten.  But the scars in the child’s psyche… well, that will stay.  And that stays for a very long time.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

photo via google images and weheartit.com

And then there was… baseball

from dusk 'til dawn

It was another baseball weekend.

Two full days of tournament.  On Saturday my son’s team played two games, on Sunday they played three.  Since they kept playing, it also meant that they kept winning (losing two games means the team should start packing ‘coz they’re going home).  They could have reached and won the championship game if only the last two teams they played against were not that good.  But well, all the teams played to win.  Our team came in third.  Not bad for a new team.

To say that it was an exhausting weekend would be an understatement.   The long day, the heat, the waiting in between games truly sucked the energy out of me.  At some point during the day, I was already starting to imagine what my alternate self in my alternate universe would have been doing on that weekend.  Probably Christmas shopping.  Alternate SGM was joyously strolling at the airconditioned mall, shopping for Christmas gifts, looking so pristine while sipping her favorite iced mocha.   The real ME on the other hand, spent the two days under the sun and the heat and the occasional drizzle.  With sand and soil on my shoes and my pants.  I was the perfect poster girl for the Sahara desert. 

When we got back home Sunday evening, I was just so tired.  Dead tired. 

~ * ~

happiness in a glove

Enough of the whining, though, because I know that despite the heat and the exhaustion, it was a good weekend for all of us baseball parents who were there to watch and cheer for our boys.  We had food, we had drinks.   And do you know of people who are very gifted at entertaining others?  Well, we had those, too.  Ergo, we had laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. 

It is really nice when parents get together for a certain goal. Ours was to extend whatever support our kids needed… not only to win the games, but for them to learn from the actual experience, as well.  So whether they win or lose, our prayer was that they take something valuable home with them. 

It is not always just about the skills that the child develops when he does sports.  It is also about the values that he learns.  The life lessons that he will bring with him as he gets older.  It is also about the memories that these children build individually and even as a team.

And to be part of those memory-building moments… isn’t that what parenting is about?

*** *** *** *** ***

next blog:  Parenting from the Other Side… (The kind of parent you wouldn’t want to be). Watch out for it.  I still have to collect my thoughts. As I said, I was dead tired over the weekend, I haven’t really recovered yet.

photo via weheartit.com

 

Judge and be judged

the imperfect storm

Mom: I am thinking of setting up a business for your brother and you.

Daughter:  What’s that got to do with me?

Mom: Because if you don’t help him out, I will really make you take up law. 

Daughter: (looking totally clueless) Huh?

Mom:  You should be a lawyer.  I want you to be a judge someday.  You will be happy if you are a judge.  You shouldn’t waste your intelligence… 

Daughter:  Who said I’m not happy?!  (Big sigh)

Sounds like a storm is brewing.

~*~

Initially, one would see nothing wrong with the above conversation. 

I suppose it is but normal for parents to tell their children what they want their children to become…  what path they suggest their children to take.  Out of love and concern for our kids, we parents, most often than not try to persuade them to choose a certain direction.  Of course our choices are based on our own personal experiences, as well.  We teach based on what we know.  We try to influence our children based on how we lived life and we think that what made us succeed will do the same for them.  We just want them to be successful and to be happy.

Nothing is wrong with offering suggestions.  Nothing is wrong with telling your child you dream of him or her to be this or that someday…

Not unless you are talking to a 35+ yr old. A mother of an 11yr old, with her own family unit– her own household– and a dog, to boot.    Someone who has been independent and has been taking care of her family, as well as other people’s family, for the past decade. 

You simply cannot tell that person, even if she were your own child, that you know what will make her happy. 

Because you don’t.   

~ * ~ 

I have mentioned several blogs back (see Highlight of My Day) about how I decided to veer away from the corporate life and chose to be a domestic goddess.  I believe I also mentioned that I came from a career-oriented family.  I knew that a lot of people didn’t understand why I made such choice. I knew a lot of them questioned why I chose being a full-time-rah-rah-mom over working for some company that would give me a nice title before my name.   

I didn’t mind, really.  I believed that having a peaceful family life, with a happy, loving — not to mention, very intelligent– child was more than enough to make me feel successful.  I derive my self-fulfillment from having the chance to make memories with my son.  I never really craved for any other title.  It’s not something that I miss having because I am happy where I am.  Like what I always say, to each his own.

But then hearing my mom telling me a few days ago that being a lawyer or a judge would make me “happy” really almost made me blow my top.  At that moment, the only thing I could think of was how little she thought of me… and how little she knew of me

It was pretty sad, really.  Sad not because what she said made me feel small about myself, but more because I don’t think she truly understands the happiness I get out of being a mother.  Obviously, she gets her sense of happiness elsewhere… while I derive joy from being with the people I love, doing things with and for them, sharing moments with them.

~ * ~

My mom has always been career-oriented. We never faulted her for that.  My siblings and I grew up under the care of a nanny who stayed with us until she was 85.  When our nanny passed away last year, my sister and I (being the two older ones) really felt like we lost a big part of us, as well.    My mom never understood why we cried so much.

Now in her 60’s, my mom is still happily working… proud to keep her title of being an attorney, and every other title possible, depending on her position.  Because of her present position, she got assigned in a faraway place, gets to come home only once or twice a month.  She is still happy, though.  She has reached the pinnacle of her career… 

Our weekends are spent with lunches, dinners or coffee dates with my dad, my sister and her family and my brother.  Without our mom, though, because she’s somewhere else.  We share moments here as a family, while she’s out there somewhere, socializing with the lawyers and judges like herself.  And oh yeah, she’s working, too.

She doesn’t realize that while she’s out there happily being a Somebody, I am back here taking care of her household.   I run their errands, manage their househelp, do their groceries.  My sister and I take turns staying with or inviting our dad over when he needs company.  When my brother went through some rough spot, I was there to give him whatever guidance or support he needed. 

So, maybe I don’t have a title other than “mom.”  I don’t introduce myself as Atty. So and so or Dr. Something something.  Not even Supermodel Someone.  I also see no reason to introduce myself as Writer Me when I meet with my son’s teachers or my other co-parents.  I simply see no point nor reason to.  But being ‘untitled’ doesn’t mean I am less busy, nor does it make my life less significant.

Maybe she is happy being what and where she is.  But that doesn’t mean that I am NOT happy being who or what I am.

~ * ~

What really brings you joy? Think about it.

SGM : We all have different sources of happiness.  I am happy with my family.  I am happy that I get to write.  I am happy with my life… Besides, i don’t want to be a judge. To me, it’s just a title.  

And that was how the storm ended. 

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

photos via google images 

 

Highlight of My Day

Nothing beats an interesting afternoon chat

I met up for lunch with a couple of my mommy friends yesterday.  I have known these women for several years now.  Our sons’ ages range from ten to twelve, they go to the same school and they are in the same baseball team.  Another commonality that the three of us have is that we are all full-time moms.  Having no daily job or an office to go to, the highlight of most of our days is basically picking up our sons from school and bringing them to baseball practice.  That, and of course, occasional lunch or coffee dates with friends.

As we were having our dessert, I asked them this question: “Have you ever thought of doing something else, like pursuing a career or having your own business at this point in your lives?  Or…” and I paused to add some drama, “… are you content with this?” And I moved my hands about to point at our table, our dessert, our coffee… basically I was talking about what we were doing at the moment.  We were having lunch… with all the time in our hands.

~ * ~ * ~

I came from a career oriented family.  My lawyer mom took pride in being a working mother.  She almost had a breakdown when she found out I decided to be a full-time mom.  She didn’t have to tell me, but I knew that she couldn’t understand why I chose to be a full-time mom over having a career… a position in an office somewhere… a title that goes before my name.  Double the breakdown when she learned that my lawyer sister decided to stop practicing law so she can have more time with her kids.  My sister set up her own business, so my mom forgave her somewhat, but she still couldn’t understand why my sister chose to give up her title of being an attorney. 

My mom believes that a person can be career oriented and still be a parent (though I don’t remember her spending much time with us when we were very young) .  She also believes that our relationship (mine and hers) is the same as my relationship with my son.  She thinks we are just as close.  She is either in a total state of denial… or is utterly clueless. 

As my sister often says, my mom seems to live in a totally different plane.

~ * ~

Years ago, when my son was still very young, I couldn’t quite get rid of the hang ups of being a non-working mom.  I guess it didn’t help that my sister gets to be introduced as “the lawyer” while I get the title, “the other daughter.”  There were times when I can’t help but ask myself if I needed a title too, in order to gain more respect.  Will the world respect me more if I have a title before my name?

I have long come to terms with myself on what would give me self-fulfilment and contentment.

~ * ~

Yesterday when I posed the question to my friends, one of them replied, “I am happy where I am.”  And then she added this, “Life is short.  Why should I concern myself about trying to find a job just to prove somethingI love that I get to spend time with my kids.  I love that we can do this.  Why should I add more stress when I can enjoy what I have?”  And she proceeded to tell us about the flights she just booked for her and her family for the upcoming school break.

I believed what she said made perfect sense. 

~ * ~

I don’t have anything against working mothers.  In fact, I admire the mothers who have their careers or their own business and still have time for their kids.  And I mean quality time. And there are working mothers who, given the chance, would rather stay home with the kids (or have leisure coffee dates with friends on a Monday).  I feel for them, too.

Different strokes for different folks.  But to me, more than anything, it’s about the time that you spend with your kids, whether you work or not.

~ * ~

a beautiful world

one Monday afternoon

It was my personal choice to be a full-time, hands on, supermom.  Not that I have to justify it, but I feel one can never have enough time with one’s kids.  I mean, they grow up so fast.  Surely you would want to be there to see them grow, and to experience life with them while they still want you around

When I picked up my son from school yesterday afternoon, I can’t help but smile as I listened to him talk about the highlight of his day.  Being there in the car with him, listening to his stories, enjoying a peaceful, stress free afternoon, I couldn’t help but realize that THAT moment was the highlight of MY day.  I couldn’t ask for more.

So despite the fact that I am seemingly untitled, I know I am happy where I am.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

photo via weheartit.com

Finding friends in a place least likely

It is amazing that people can find friends in places least likely. 

When I started blogging, I didn’t really know what to expect.  I mean, I hoped I will get readers, and I hoped my readers will appreciate my writing — or at the very least, learn something from me.  What I didn’t expect is that there will be some kind of relationship that will be formed between me and my readers, or me and the other bloggers whose works I follow.

I often say that modern technology has made the world smaller.  I even blogged about my long distance romance in the ’90s and how the presence of emails, ym and sms could have helped the relationship survive the distance.  Now, because of all these forms of communication, it is much, much easier to meet people from other parts of the world… from various continents, even.

The thing I love about following other people’s blogs is that more than the entertainment value that some may give, or the admiration for the blogger’s writing style and skill, basically, reading about their experiences reminds me of one’s humanity. People are the same everywhere.  Regardless of race or skin color, or continents where they are at, people go through the same experiences in life.  Okay, so maybe in varying degrees.  But parents from two different places may have the same struggles concerning their kids.  We may all have the same victories and joys, too.

It is a journey.  Life is a journey. And if there’s one good thing that this so called blog world had given me, it is the feeling that no matter what personal struggle I may be going through, or I have gone through, or may go through, there are other people out there who have experienced the same… who can offer some form of learning or support.  People who will unselfishly join me in my journey.  Simply because they have been there… and they just want to reach out and help. 

Last week’s bad encounter in cyberspace with some sicko may have been very disturbing.  Yes, there are disgusting people out there — in real world and cyberworld, alike.  But there are good people, too.  I have read so many words of support given to a blog “friend” of mine from people who are practically strangers… people  she probably has never met in person.  And that is something. 

One of the highest points in my blogging experience was when a writer (a real book author) made a comment in one of my posts.  I was thrilled.  In fact, I was ecstatic. My first thought was, “Wow.  She is a real author.  And I am just a fan!  I have read about four of her books!! And she’s commenting on my blog post!!!”  It was pretty surreal. 

Then I realized that she is human, too.  Author, or not, she experiences the same emotions that I do.  In fact, she posted a comment because she was so thrilled to find out that I have been reading her books.  She is just like any ordinary human being, capable of feeling joy and excitement, as well as sadness and grief.  She reaches out to people with her works, and she reached out to me by showing gratitude and appreciation.

There still are good people.  One can find friends in places they don’t expect.  Even in cyber world…. even in blogworld.  Maybe I should say, most especially in blogworld.

☮

it's a small world after all...

 *** *** *** *** *** ***

photo via weheartit.com

  

As promised…

It has been a semi-frustrating blog week…

Semi-frustrating because  1) my internet connection has been acting up since saturday evening (see Limited Connectivity entry), and 2) my chance and definitely unintentional brush with icky porn the other day (see Blogging etiquette post). 

Sometimes the universe just throws things at you that you are not prepared for.  Good that I had topics to write about, but it can be pretty exhausting to be angry — or frustrated. 

Today I am keeping my cool.  For along with the frustrating times come moments, too, that warm our hearts. 

Here is something that is light and easy…

Tumblr

This morning as I dropped off my son in school, I lingered a little longer and from the back seat of my car I watched as he walked to the school gate, then enter the school premises, and eventually disappeared going up the stairs to his classroom.  Somehow I couldn’t dismiss that tug in my chest as I watched him walk away.                                           

I remember the first time my son entered big school.  He was only 5 then. He wasn’t the clingy “Mom, please don’t leave me!!!” nor the whiny “I don’t want to go to school!!!” type.  Nor was he the one who cries silent tears — tears that will surely melt a mom’s heart and make her want to whisk her child away (like school was a bad place or something!).  No, my son held his own… He made me bring him to his classroom, he let me leave guiltlessly when it was time to leave, yet made me promise to be there at dismissal time.  And I was there as promised.

He is in 5th grade now.   I still drop him off  in the morning… but by now I am just allowed to either stay in the car or bring him to the gate (“Mom, that is so not cool!!”).  Watching him this morning, I can’t help but ask myself until when do I intend to do this?  I mean, at some point I will have to learn to let go, right?

Letting go is not easy.  Sometimes we wish we can forever hold our children in our hands so they are always protected.  But we also know that by letting them go, we let them learn… we let them experience life… and we let them grow.  Because if we hold on too tight, we will stifle their growth.  There are things that they simply have to learn on their own.

But we know that whatever happens, we will be there to catch them should they fall. Perhaps what is important is that they have the knowledge and the security that whatever happens, when they need us, we will be there to pick them up…

Every dismissal.  As promised.   

**** **** ***** **** **** **** **** ****

photo via weheartit.com