Oh blogs, how I love you!
I pore over the nature blogs to raise my recognition skills beyond bluebirds and cardinals. Blogs from other lands keep me in thrall for hours. I linger over decorating blogs without intention of buying so much as a throw pillow. Gardening blogs. . . ahhhhh!
Photography, cooking, crafts, and oh my gosh, the knitting blogs. . . ! Beam me up, Scottie, and don’t forget my knitting bag!
My favorites, however, are some I have bookmarked as “writing blogs” because that is exactly why I read them. I love the careful phrasing, the honesty, the wit, the emotion within.
Most of the bloggers are moms wanting to maintain their own identity even as they strive to raise caring, confident kids. They are often sassy and pepper their blogs with words I don’t dare put in my own, even if my tongue bears bite marks to keep them from popping out in conversation. They share the joys and frustrations of child rearing, the heartbreak of not always being able to protect their children from the pain they remember from their own youth. Not things like the inability to find the right sneakers, but the frustration of inadequate schools, bullying, not fitting in, loneliness. I see a younger me in them, but their rationality, thoughtfulness, and wisdom surpass any I may have had. These women are something!
I love the blogs by women my own age, too. Again, I see myself in them. They don’t want to violate their children’s privacy, but the worrying hasn’t stopped. Sometimes it’s even harder because they can’t intervene even if they see danger ahead.
A line in the movie Crazy Heart struck me…” funny how falling can feel like flying… for a little while.” We want our kids to soar, but however hard it was when we were there to catch them, it’s even harder when we can’t.
Not long ago, I read a “young mom blog” that made me smile. As she wrote about a kid-related problem, she lamented that she’d probably be worrying for the next twenty years.
Finally, an area in which I am an expert! I had no advice, for it probably would not have helped for me to yell, “Honey, you’re not even close!”
Our children are grown and have families of their own. They face their own challenges and we respect that, trying not to give unsolicited advice. (TRYING, the unsolicited advice giver hastens to say!) By distance and obligations, they move farther and farther away and we become less a part of their world. We understand that rite of passage, but does it stop us from worrying about them? Not by a long shot. Now, we worry about their kids, too.
The calendar allows us no illusions about our own timelines. Even the healthiest of us find that travel isn’t something we do with abandon any more. A strange bed can bring back the ghosts of backaches past. Bladders change our travels from “sightseeing” to “potty site seeking.”
Flying? Can they possibly make it any more stressful?
My mother spent the last years of her life homebound and tethered to an oxygen tank after rheumatoid arthritis swelled her breathing passages and the Swiss cheese-like holes in her lungs from a condition not unlike black lung disease denied her a deep breath. She lived in the same house she’d found comfortable for 40 years, even though the neighborhood around it had declined. She wanted to die in that home.
Our relationship was complicated. Once when I was in my early 50’s, I flew to visit her, to “see about Momma.” I rented a car at the Raleigh airport and drove to the small town where she lived. After several days there, I was going a little stir crazy from the confinement, and decided to take a short walk. She warned that the neighborhood had some rough characters and asked if I wanted her to go with me.
This was a woman whose feet were so swollen she could barely wear shoes, whose fingers and toes were so twisted by arthritis that she no longer had opposable thumbs, who became breathless walking to the bathroom, and who was so pain-wracked that she often lay awake reading all night. Did I want her to go along for protection?
“No, Momma. I’m just going around the neighborhood a bit. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Yet when I rounded the corner on my return, there was my mother, her portable oxygen tank on her arm, wearing her moccasins with the toes cut out, waiting in the sickening July heat to walk that last block with me and “make sure you’re okay.”
Stop worrying after 20 years? Not on your life. Or theirs.
Oh true true.
On all counts–the “I will respect your privacy and not blog about you” bit…
The “not on your life will I stop worrying about you” bit…
Nailed it.
What a wonderful post……thank you.
Shit. You mean this constant worrying never goes away??
Never goes away.
You believed that stuff about the sun causing wrinkles? Nope. It’s worrying about your kids. Scientists don’t want that information to get out–they’re afraid that folks will eat their young.
I loved “funny how falling can feel like flying… for a little while.” Oh how true.
Beautiful, heartfelt post.
I srly lurv you. I hope your children don’t mind my saying this. You do need to give ppl some warning since I am sitting here with tears and snots on the crowded commuter train with no Kleenex. (No, I will NOT wipe my nose with my sleeves, my mama has taught me well!) When I came to the part with your mama standing by the window, I could sense the tears coming. Exactly because I know how I will be forever worried about my children, I know that’s exactly how my mother has been spending her days 7000+ miles away, and the knowledge only makes the guilt worse. A mother to a mother. I called her and apologized for what a spoiled brat I have been all my life as soon as I tasted that bitter sweet taste only a mother understands. The title of this post says so much and the best part is: you get an a-ha moment when you get to the end. Love it! (I need to find some other ways to express myself I know. For now, please bear with the repetition…)
What a beautiful and poignant post. I am totally in tune with every word. I can’t imagine a time when I won’t worry about my grown-up children. I love your mother’s spunk and suspect you inherited some of it. Great post, giving us all pause to think about the important things in life…our families.
I think the truest thing I ever read about motherhood was “having a child was deciding to have your heart walking around outside your body forever” (or something close to that). Wonderful post-thank you!
Hi, I love this quote that you left here that I included it in my latest post. I hope you don’t mind. It is a lovely quote. One that takes my breath away.
Oh yes, how right you are, mothers will NEVER stop worrying about their children, no matter what age or how far they are. Just the other day I told my mom that I had gone for a drive to take pictures on some roads I had never been on before and right away she said…oh I hope you’re being careful and not going anywhere dangerous or let anything happen to you”! I’m 52 years old…but still she worries:-) My sons are 31 and 28 and no matter that they have their own lives, one has a child and wife, the other has a girlfriend, they both have great jobs…I still worry. We can’t help ourselves:-) xoxo
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