Tag: Forgiveness

Armpits

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One person’s sweat stains are another person’s armpit hair. Huh?

This is going to be my new idiom if someone confides in me about being embarrassed in a situation. My 14-year-old self came back in full force on Monday night when I attended Maria’s last dance club session. It all started with the parents being called out to the cafeteria floor to dance with their kids. The first dance involved some type of shuffle moving eight pieces to the right and then eight paces to the left and then kicking your legs and then swirling your hips. I, of course, got all into it (but without being over-the-top – sometimes I hoot and holler as I’m dancing). We ended the dance with a couple of fortnight dance moves, which the dance instructor found hilarious watching the parents perform. Something came over me and I was able to crank out the orange justice like a master. When the music stopped, the dance instructor spoke into his microphone:

“Ladies and gentlemen, this mom here in the green sweatshirt has done the best orange justice moves I have ever seen!”

Yes, he was talking about me, and Maria wanted to die. She put her hands against her face and shook her head. After the shuffle, the instructor placed the parents and kids into three big circles. He started the music and called out for a female or male student or female or male parent to go in the center of the circle and dance. He called a few students first and they went in the middle and did random moves that everyone else mimicked. Then he called for a female parent. Somebody pointed at one of the moms who is very timid. She shook her head no over and over again. My one girlfriend who loves to dance as much as I do whispered to me that we should go out and dance with her. Without hesitation, we both ran out to the dance floor and pulled her into the middle. We proceeded to do the Arnold dance moves and the Saturday Night Live move. Then we held our hands high in the sky and did some type of crazy jump step move. The dance instructor called out for a father to go in the middle of the circle so me and my girlfriend skipped back to our places on the outer rim of the circle. Maria winced when I stood next to her.

“What?”

“Mom, you have sweat stains in your arm pits and everyone saw them.”

My heart dropped to my knees. There I was standing at Golf Manor pool with my friends as my mom walked in wearing her string cotton bikini and sporting her 6 inch long armpit hair for all to see.

I left Maria’s side and jetted to the bathroom. Yep, sure enough, there were my big pit stains as I raised my hands overhead. That is what happens after 15 minutes of dancing. Hell, I probably had them after the first minute. I took off my green sweatshirt and wrapped it around my middle. I had a black long sleeve shirt on underneath which did not show the stains. I always come prepared. I left the bathroom and went back to the outer rim of the circle to stand by Maria. She looked appalled. I immediately felt it and left the circle to stand with Jon. After that dance scenario, the instructor told everyone to get ready for one more fast dance sequence. As Maria walked over towards Jon and I, she mouthed “go home.” Her words were a knife stabbing me in the heart. I was both hurt and pissed. Jon was just pissed. I told him we should leave, but he kept a level head and said that we were going to stay (but he was not going to talk to her the whole way home). We stood there glaring at her as she moved with her classmates to the music. She knew she had crossed the boundaries.

The instructor turned on one last piece of music – a slow song to end the night. Maria came over to Jon and I and asked if we would dance. Jon shook his head no. A few of my girlfriends were calling me onto the dance floor and in order to avoid a big scene, I walked over with Maria. We all danced together and made small talk but when music ended, I walked away.

I had told Maria that she would have to walk home with me since she didn’t walk to the dance, and I held her to it even though I was mad at her. She apologized over and over again as we walked towards the house. I didn’t accept her apology or deny it. I just listened to her and walked in silence. I knew I was heavily affected by the exchange based on my own experience with my mom when I was her age. Of course, I was also not happy with her conduct towards us, but I could understand it having once been a 14-year-old girl in a similar situation. I knew she did not intend to be mean spirited; she was just reacting in the moment with all of her friends by her. She has always been one that is quick to embarrassment by her family. I can’t blame her at times with how unfiltered we can be.

We went into our separate rooms once we got home. I turned on some music and folded laundry. About 20 minutes later, Maria peeked her head inside my bedroom. I knew right then and there that I needed to give her a hug. We embraced and I started crying. And crying. Maria sat me on the bed next to her and we talked. We talked about my experience with my mom. We talked about how embarrassed she gets at times over me and Jon. We laughed. We hugged again. Then Mario walked in and said something ridiculous, and we added him to our embrace.

We all walked downstairs to grab a snack before bed. Jon walked in from his office and stood stoic in front of Maria. She apologized for telling him to go home. He gave her some crap for a minute or two but then he apologized, too, for embarrassing her (according to Ri, he had talked with, and jabbed at, the boys in her class for too long of a period of time and ate pizza that was for the kids).

Mario enjoyed the whole show laid out in front of him. However, he will be in the same boat in two years when he does dance club. I’m going to make sure to wear a pastel shirt so that the sweat stains are everywhere.

Left Neglected

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My fam!

I finished the book, Left Neglected by Lisa Genova tonight.  I am not a voracious reader of books, and if I do like them, they are usually biographies or non-fiction (I stick with New Yorker and Atlantic Monthly magazine articles).  But this book hit home for me.  Hmmm, I don’t know why?  It couldn’t be because the main character reminds me so much of me? Sarah Nickerson is a working mom with three kids trying to juggle an 80 hour workweek with kids’ activities and a hubby all while keeping joy and spontaneity in her life.  When that life crashes at her knees and she cannot continue to go ten miles a minute, she is forced to face her relationship with her mom, her addiction to her blackberry and email, and her manic, crazed life.  

Genova’s writing flows so easily and I felt instantly connected with Sarah and her fears, anxieties, and dreams.  I loved her description of Sarah helping her ADHD son do his homework and the thrill she got in taking the time to think of a productive solution to his problem as well as the thrill her son got in getting his homework completed and correct.  Those precious moments carry throughout your life.  I also thought that Genova did a great job at portraying Sarah’s anger towards her mother who failed to pay attention to her as a child due to the death of Sarah’s brother at a young age.  When Sarah has a scare with her own son who could have been struck by a car, she is able to appreciate the pain her mom must have felt all those years after her brother’s death; she gains empathy towards her mom’s situation and in the end, the ability to forgive.  Forgiveness is such a gift.  

The book made me again address what matters most to me.  I need these reminders interspersed throughout my crazed day, week, and month in order to keep me focused on the people and parts of my life that I most enjoy and cherish.  My life is not as crazed as Sarah’s – I have found a job that brings me much flexibility and also stretches my mind to new limits.  But I do have those days when I still think “what am I doing?! Shouldn’t I be working somewhere I could make a real difference?! ”  I will continue to struggle with that question but in the meantime, the bottom line for me is that I am genuinely happy.  I love Maria and Mario to absolute pieces, and cannot imagine a world without their sweet, cherub faces.  I love my husband for being my champion in all that I do, and I love my family and friends for the support and laughs and joy they bring me.  I have it good, and books like Genova make me recognize that over and over again.

Forgiveness

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Jon and I have been ridiculously stressed about the possibility of purchasing a  new home.  We have been wheeling and dealing with the sellers for about a month, and a deal is now coming to fruition.  And, of course, we are second-guessing it all.  Very normal reaction, I am sure.  You get attached to your home.  Jon and I spent our wedding night in this house.  Maria and Mario came to this home after their births.  Cy and I took off on our long runs from this house…. 

Lovin' the tub

Our realtor/neighbor Dave came over two nights ago to talk to us about moving forward with a final bid that would seal the deal.  We sat on the porch with him biting our nails and asking a lot of questions.  Maria and Mario played in the bath tub upstairs.  They yelled for me to come up within two minutes of the start of our meeting with Dave.  I ran up and threw them some barbies and toys to play with in the tub.  I ran back downstairs. 

Dave had just started talking about inspection companies when I heard Maria scream for me to come up again.  I ran up and Mario had put soap in his eyes.  I grabbed a wash cloth and helped him rub the soap out.  I ran back downstairs to hear the tail end of Dave’s thoughts about an appraisal. 

Three minutes later, Mario yelled for me.  I ignored him.  Maria yelled, too.  I ignored her.  When they both screamed, Jon and I decided that maybe one of them was actually needing assistance.  I ran upstairs.  Water soaked the floor, the bath mat, the area around the sink.  They both pointed at the water and gave me a blank look. 

I reacted as any stressed, hungry, overly worked person would: I flipped out.  Lost it.  Yelled at them and slammed the bathroom closet door.  Told them that I could not believe how inconsiderate they were to get water all over the floor.  I stomped back down the stairs and out the door. 

The little rascals come through

Then I felt horrible.  Why do I do that?  Why can’t I just take a deep breath and walk away?  As I sat on the porch listening to Dave and Jon, I saw the front door open.  Within about ten minutes, out walked Maria and Mario all clean and dry and in their nighties.  Tears automatically flowed from my eyes.  I scooted them back in the house on the couch and sat them down. 

“I have to tell you both something. 

Thank you.  Thank you for being such wonderful children and for knowing that mom was upset and for doing your best to make things better. Mom has been really tired and stressed lately and sometimes I take that stress out on you.  I don’t mean to do that.  I love you both very much.” 

We hugged. 

“Will you both try harder to not get the floor so wet?”

“Yes, mom, we promise.”

We hugged again.

My babes

I walked back outside with them.  They played hide-n-seek and Jon and I finished up with Dave.  I sat on the porch watching them play soaking up the sweetness and sensitivity of their actions post mama-freak-out.  That one little gesture brought me back home – just what I needed.

Chunky

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My intrepid, no holds-barred girl!

“You’re chunky.”

 
 “Yeah, you are chunky!”

Laughter erupted amongst the kindergarten boys and girls as they looked at Maria – the subject of the comments.  Maria stood in line waiting to march back in the school from recess.  She informed her teacher.  The teacher’s response: both kids who shouted the comments to Maria got “yellow” marks for the day (one below the best mark – green). 

One of the kids’ mother, Angie, texted me while I facilitated a retreat that same afternoon.

“Anna needs to apologize to Maria today. Please call me when we can come over.”

After my retreat, I called Angie to get the scoop.  “I cannot believe that Anna would say that to Maria – I am so sorry.”  She continues to tell me how awful she feels and how she sat Anna down to talk to her about how those words could hurt her friends’ feelings.  She asked Anna how she would feel if someone came up to her and said she had an ugly nose.  Anna started crying immediately.     

We hung up the phone.  I stared into the dining room at Maria drawing a picture.  I felt a mixture of emotions.  Anger ranked as the overwhelming one at that moment.  Anger not so much towards Anna but towards this deep-rooted ideal that girls must be skinny in order to be beautiful, and this ideal entering into kindergarten of all places.  To five-year olds.  This weight thing is such a struggle for most women.  I have found many a day that I spend an excessive amount of time worrying about what to eat or irritated about how my jeans fit that I lose track of the big picture – living.  I don’t want Maria to become pre-occupied with her weight to the detriment of living.  I want her to be how she is now: ready to chow down on a piece of cake in front of her, willing to put on her ballerina outfit and dance around the room, proud of her strength, at ease with looks.  However, I can already sense a bit of doubt about how she thinks she looks.  She gets angry at times while putting on her jeans when they won’t button easily.  She looks at her face in the mirror and scrunches up her eyes while complaining “I am not beautiful.” 

Maria and Anna at their Halloween party

Society certainly does not help with all of the magazines and tv shows flaunting 100 pound women smiling, having fun, surrounded by friends.  While I was thinking of the comments to Maria, I wondered to myself whether I would have been as angry if kids called her “ugly” or “stupid.”  I would have been angry because I don’t want people to be mean to MY child but I would not have been as angry.  Why?

Because I struggled with my weight and listened to people call me “chunky.”  I have witnessed first-hand how difficult it can be to persevere and how crappy it makes you feel.  How you second guess yourself and become pre-occupied with it.  I have seen my friends do the same.   

But really, what I have found as I raise Maria is that a lot of the time I get so angry about something, I can look back at my life and see where I was hurt by it.  And that was no different in this situation.  These kids said something mean to Maria.  They could have told her she was ugly, or had a huge nose, or dressed goofy.  Maria would have been hurt by that, also.  I think making a national event of such comments because they deal with “the weight issue” may be perpetuating the issue more than resolving it.

My girl and me

The mom of the other kid, Zach, called me later in the evening and asked if Zach could bring a picture over to Maria.  They arrived at the door fifteen minutes later.  Zach handed Maria a gerber daisy and a picture of him, Maria and Anna playing and smiling.  Maria blushed.  He said sorry.  Maria hugged him. 

Maria learned forgiveness, Zach and Anna learned compassion and humility, and I learned to take a deep breath.  I do not want to project my former (and sometimes current) battle with weight and looks on my daughter.  Yeah, society is ridiculous with its promotion of the skinny, the young, the white.  But this incident did not need to rise to the national level.  We needed a discussion about loving yourself and loving your body, your heart, and your mind.  We needed some apologies and hugs and smiles.  And we got just what we needed.