I may not be Jewish but I am a mother

Well, it happened. I turned into the stereotype of a Jewish mother. I won’t apologize (even though I’m not Jewish). Four weeks without a call from a son off at college is long enough to complain about. I actually found myself saying, “So, you don’t call, you don’t write….”
What is notable is that it worked! I now get a call at least every couple of weeks letting me know he is alive. Not much else, but at least that he is alive.

Now this son does call occasionally for advice, (“Mom, how long do I need to cook the red beans.”) but other than that he is pretty independent. He does his own thing and I don’t think he likes his mother voicing her opinion on his college “activities”.

Of course as a liberal in a family full of conservatives he does come under fire quite a lot. Or rather he would if he voiced his opinions. Perhaps through survival instinct, he doesn’t share his philosophy with his siblings too often. When he does, table conversation gets pretty lively. Between the career soldier older brother and the somewhat legalistic younger sister things can get heated quickly.

I am happy to say that, when we are able to spend some time together, we truly share some deep political and spiritual ideas. He knows where I stand, but he also knows I will not reject him for his ideals. I suspect he stops short of telling me anything I would get alarmed over. Maybe that is a good thing. I found out with my oldest two, that I really don’t need to know everything; especially long after the fact when I can’t do anything about it except be upset. Someone told them long ago to wait two years after you have done something your parents would not approve of before you tell them about it, and they took it to heart. I’d like to talk to that guy!

I hope that my son, as well as my other children, knows that I love him unconditionally, regardless of dogma. If there is one childrearing philosophy that I would share with all families, it is that if you make sure your children know you love them no matter what, and raise them in knowledge and hope of the Lord, that everything else will work itself out.

The best thing about grandchildren

You have probably heard that the best thing about grandchildren is that you can send them home when they get cranky. That is certainly a plus, but it’s not the best thing. The best thing is seeing how excited they get every time they see you.

When my own children were young, I can recall feeling a little jealous of how they jumped up and ran to daddy when he arrived home from work. I knew that it was because he had been away all day, whereas I had been with them the entire time. But none the less, I sometimes wished they reacted that way when I returned from a trip to Wal-Mart or the grocery store.

Not being with Grandma all the time is probably why my two-year-old grandson gets the biggest smile you can imagine whenever I come in the door or walk up to his mom’s car as they pull in my driveway. But whatever the reason, I can’t help but feel a little smug that his excitement is just for me.

Some things are worth getting older for.

Procrastination/Perfectionism?

Blogging is a great idea. The only drawback to blogs is that they don’t write themselves. Nor do they nag you that it is time to write another post. For an easily sidetracked procrastinator like me, that is a recipe for disaster. So, here it is, a year since my last post and, with contriteness, I will start again.
I read somewhere that procrastination is actually a symptom of being a perfectionist. It seems that the perfectionist is afraid of not achieving flawlessness and therefore puts off activities until they absolutely must be completed. Well, I don’t know if that is correct, but it makes me feel better. And it is a much better excuse than being lazy or attention deficit.
Now I have never allowed my children to use that defense, and, believe me; I have kids that could be professional procrastinators. Of course, my older children will quickly tell you that I let the younger ones get away with not completing things (like homework and chores) more than I did them. Like most parents I nag and cajole, only getting to the discipline stage when teacher phone calls start coming in or the dishes are piled higher than the sink.
Oddly, it was my oldest who advised me not long ago to tell my youngest she could not go out until her homework was complete. What made it odd is that my firstborn daughter was never one to procrastinate on homework and was an enthusiastic student; therefore that technique was not needed for her – at least in the schoolwork arena. She must be recalling the struggle to get her to do her chores. (Just this week I heard her lament to a small farm owner about having to clean the chicken coop as a preteen.)
Also odd, is that I had not already set that boundary with my youngest - a junior in high school. I am definitely getting lax in my older years. (My younger kids would say I am mellowing out.) Of course it is hard to disciple a child for late homework when your last blog post was a year ago!