Sunday, March 21, 2010

Does Time Really Heal All Wounds?



'Time heals all wounds' is a phrase I've heard countless times throughout my life. When I was a child, I believed it to be true. Why wouldn't I? I had no evidence to the contrary. I fell running home from school and scraped my knee, and in a couple of weeks not a trace was left of the wound. My little brother broke his leg going down the slide at the park, and several months later, you would never guess he had incurred such a serious injury. Experience and age, however, have taught me otherwise. Emotional wounds and heartaches often reach much deeper than physical wounds. They reach into our very souls. Rose Kennedy once said, "It has been said 'Time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone". I lost my father in a plane crash two and a half years ago, and although the pain is not as intense as those first days, when I actually believed I might die from it, it is still there hiding in the back of my mind and heart, waiting to reveal itself. The pain of his loss comes at unexpected moments; when the National Anthem plays at a sporting event; in the morning when I wake from a very vivid and realistic dream about him, only to realize that it was just that... a dream. More often than not, however, the pain comes with my children's milestones and achievements; piano recitals, goals scored in hockey games, funny stories from their lives that I know he would have gotten a kick out of... moments when I know that my dad would have been so proud of them. Time has not healed my pain, but it has changed my pain. In those first days and weeks, I couldn't bear the memories. I couldn't look at a picture of him without feeling like I might fall apart. I couldn't mention him in conversation without welling up with tears. It just hurt too much. It still hurts, but I find some comfort in remembering the man he was, the father he was, the legacy he leaves behind in myself and my siblings. I still think of him every day and there is pain that comes with those thoughts. Time has not healed my wounds, but it has enabled me to find joy in the memories along with the pain.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Good mother... or bad?


Back when I was a mama to only two children, I had this prideful notion that I was a really good parent. Because Shayna and Riley were such easy children to parent, they helped to nurture this notion. They listened and obeyed; They smiled much more than they cried; They never threw temper tantrums. I would take them to restaurants and people would compliment us on what wonderful and well-behaved children we had. I found myself judging other parents whose children were noisy and disobedient. I would look at a parent struggling with a toddler throwing a tantrum at the grocery store, and think ugly thoughts. Then... along came Owen. From the start, Owen was much more difficult and demanding. As an infant, he was not happy unless you were holding, rocking or bouncing him. As a toddler, he got into everything. The cabinet locks we never bothered to put on when Shayna and Riley were little, were quickly purchased and installed. He was continually testing the limits of his environment, as well as my patience. As a second grader he needs frequent reminders to do his work rather than visit with his friends. Don't misunderstand, Owen has more than his share of wonderful qualities. People are drawn to his charm , and his outgoing and friendly personality have blessed him with an abundance of friends. He simply demands more parental energy. Then, just when I thought I had a handle on Owen, Evan arrived in our lives. Evan who, at 18 months thought he would venture down the road to see Dad at work while I was downstairs putting laundry in the washer. (The woman who brought him back to our house must have had really well-behaved children, because she gave me one of those judgement- filled looks) Evan who tried to quit kindergarten when things didn't go his way. Evan who is easily distracted and highly impulsive, and sometimes downright defiant. Owen and Evan are similar in many ways and, as it turns out, Evan is proving to be even more of a challenge to my parenting skills. It's interesting to note that Shayna and Riley have very similar personalities, as do Owen and Evan. The older two tend to be quiet and reserved, while the younger two are gregarious and extroverted. The older two tend to comply while the younger two push the boundaries of authority. As a mama to these very different little people, I have come to realize that it is not about me or what kind of mommy I am. There is nothing so very different in the way I am parenting my children. THEY are different. It is for this reason that I have long referred to Owen as 'my lesson in pride'. It has never been about me, or whether I was a 'good' or a 'bad' mother. This 'lesson' has taught me to be slower to pass judgement on other mamas. Now when I see that mommy struggling with her toddler in the grocery store, I give her an encouraging smile or a kind word to let her know that I've been there, because aren't we all just doing the best we can?