I will never know how individudals maintain a daily blog. I attribute it to others being better writers and being able to make the most mundane of all topics sound interesting.  I have a rather unique skill in this area by my ability to reduce the most exciting event to boring sound bites that cause most to roll their eyes within minutes.  Thus, I try to wait for a really "over the top" issue or moment to share, but alas, our life does not seem to carve out any award winning moments, rather lazy days that roll into one another.  We are in our second month of summer.  I have reverted to late mornings and the black under my eyes is slowly whitening.  "S" has taken swimming lessons and is now pursuing the art of diving without the belly punch.  Seeking a pool is a daily hunt, but friends have been most generous and some public pools fill in the gap.  We took one road trip to Dallas and I finally braved the fear of the unknown roads for a two day visit with a wonderful friend in Avinger, Texas within an "Enchanted Forest."  "S" has become a wonderful traveling buddy even within kid less homes and we will be putting that trial to a test in two weeks when we visit our families in Massachusetts.  It will be a formidable challenge to balance some kid friendly activities within the three year "catch-up" with family members who expect total focus and attention.  When we return and I am "talked out" and probably needing a vacation from the vacation, we will skate into the next year of school with the purchase of new clothes, new supplies and an anticipation of part anxiety and part excitement.  This marks my seventh summer with "S".  I have totally forgotten that my retirement was supposed to be endless summers strung together with limitless opportunities and primarily "adult" entertainment.  I maneuver between avenues of occasional lunches with retirees who view my life as one they are thrilled to have in their past to young mothers who cannot imagine a life beyond the chaos of children.  My body is a continual reminder that I have constraints and limitations to the physical aspects of raising "S" and my mind which is a jumble of "old ways" and imbedded beliefs already conflict with her desires.,  As she gets older as counted by our summers together, she gets more independent.  I get older and more dependent.  So far, these months have been a lovely break from the routine and schedules, but the lull and peace is only temporary within my constant thoughts of the impending future......

Let me start by affirming that I am a loyal diehard Spurs fan and Manu Ginobilli is my favorite player, but Stephen Curry of the Golden State Warriors has earned my respect as a parent, as well as a talented ball player.  Did anyone see the news conference two weeks ago in which he brought his two year old little girl to the question and answer session?  Sports journalists were quite upset because it seems that his child was quite distracting and he was unable to completely concentrate to answer the questions!  Really, because this parent in the guardian renewal program was delighted! Here was a normal child interrupting with silly statements, crawling around under the linen dressed table and basically doing what most toddlers do.  I was absolutley thrilled that Stephen does not appear to have birthed the perfect, awestruck-by-the-media child who sat stoic on her father's lap as he answered the most ridiculous of questions about the game.  And I was even more excited to view a calm parent who knew at that moment who and what was more important to him than the mass of faces darting questions and expecting his full attention. I read that many journalists felt he should have left the child with someone else while he fulfilled his sportsman duty to review each play of the game in an attempt to justify a win or loss!  But bravo for Stephen for allowing his cutie to sit on her daddy's lap after possibly waiting in the wings while Daddy ran up and down a floor throwing balls in the air.  I am no Stephen Curry, and no one will write an article about ignoring vital questions upon which the entire world is breathlessly waiting, but I do know about a child that seldom allows for a non-distracting, all intensive conversation of give and take and all about the audience who seldom understands.  All my grandchildren including "S" want attention, make noise, crawl around, ask questions, laugh loudly, seldom speak in a whisper voice and love me.  They want to be with me, engage with me and be the special in the moment.  They can be quiet and polite when needed, but it always seems like when someone else wants my attention that they do too, especially "S".  My mother was the poster girl for the mothers who believed that children should be seen and not heard.  My face is more likely to appear on the "most wanted" poster for children who want to be heard.  I have realistic expectations for specific ages at specific times which means "S" misbehaves and I attempt to respond appropriately.  I believe that misbehavior is always a teaching moment, but I am not always the best teacher!  The simple fact is children are in a continual cycle of emotional, social, intellectual growth. Most of the lessons are trial and error and based on others' responses.  The parent, ( the responder) must engage in order to guide the growth in the right direction. And the worse part is that children are not predictable so you never know when you will be called to duty.  I used to apologize for all the interrupted phone calls, the questions or the need for help just when I begin a conversation, or the occassional act of defiance in front of others.  I ate humble pie so often that I was beginning to resemble a shrinking violet. Now I stand tall, have wiped the stain of embarrassment off my brow and join arm and arm with Stephen Curry when I say," I have to do what I can do, when I can, and whenever necessary."  It will not be on your timetable and it will seldom be on mine either.    

On May 10, I celebrated my forty-first Mother's Day.  I became an official member of this club in March of 1974 with the birth of my daughter.  I was only 23.  For years this day was a splash of homemade gifts, sampling of restuarant cuisine and alot of actual mothering.  It never dawned on me to take this day off from the act of being a mother in some attempt of respite and renewal.  For several years, the day was recognized with the addition of several grandchildren and I was knighted the matriarch of the clan.  I now held an esteemed title, but no longer had the fuss and muss or day to day nurturing. This year as with the seven past, I received homemade gifts, dined at my favorite restaurant and played with "S".  My first born who established the criteria for my membership shared her mother's day stories, we reflected on the call of this duty and I listened with nods of  simpatico.  We understand that our lives are simple by nature, but complex in reality.  Giving birth and unconditionally loving another human being is as old as time itself, but creating a self-reliant, non-addictive, confident, non-judgmental, happy adult is extremely complex. We have very mundane and rather boring schedules for daily wake ups, bedtimes and all the in between.  We drive to and fro to activities, and attempt to balance work, and play.  We entertain, we clean, we shop, and we cook. We tire from the physical aspects of this job, but are exhausted from the emotional/social realm of mothering.  "S" and my grandchildren are inundated with issues that flood our homes each day.  We are tasked to respond in ways that create growth through experience and not despair and confusion.  It is easier when they are toddlers, but becomes more difficult with each passing year. "S" already questions her confidence in terms of her appearance and her abilities.  She judges others who disagree with her and has defined standards for what she likes or "hates".  She wants to be older to watch certain TV shows, get her ears pierced, color her hair, get an Iphone, and basically do what she wants when she wants to,.  My older grandchildren grapple with global news of terror and invasion, a collapsed economy, and social media that can be more manipulative than informative.  They question their roles in this world and the possibility of fulfilling dreams within an ever changing society.  Most days I realize why mothers come to peak around 30 and pretty much burn out by 50!  Too many think child rearing is simple, write books, answer with pat solutions, offer advice without thinking, but I declare that you should stand in the shoes of a mother for a day and you will realize this trek is complex and intense.  Happy Mother's Day to all who have answered the call to serve!

So "S" begged me, I resisted, she begged me some more, I stood firm, she dealt the guilt card and I caved.  I relented and signed the form declaring myself as a field trip monitor.  Any parent who actually signs in the affirmative before knowing exactly where the class is going is either foolish, or living on the edge. I mean no offense to the rare parent who actually thinks accompanying 20 something first graders to an unstructured playground of some sort is fun, but this lady has gone on more field trips than the average age of the mothers I went with today and my recent tooth implant was easier!  At first I was hoping that this year's "Let's celebrate the near end of 100 or so days together" would be to the theater or some other sort of sit down and mandated quiet in an air conditioned facility, but alas, it was the zoo!  You begin by a set of instructions that could make the teams at GM blush, due to the specificity of details. Upon review of such directions, one gets the sense that any sort of failure will result in a flogging in the front schoolyard!  Be here at 8, pick up the name of your group, pick up  the directions to the zoo and within the zoo, type the phone number of the teacher within your phone, meet the buses at this time, get your wristband, stay with your group, eat at this time, certain locations are off limits, do not buy extras, do not share food due to allergies, wear these items, put on sunscreen, and most of all have fun!  The day was to last until 1:00.  At 11:30, I asked the time every five minutes or so in hopes it was time to board the bus.  I was not in a minority at this point!  The simple fact is that bringing a single child to the zoo is not the same as that same single child within a group of peers!  Mass mentality clicks in, and strolling from cage to cage, categorizing the animals according to habitat, or reading the information is not the reality.  Children running, yelling, going in different directions, getting lost, crying about hunger within minutes of entering the park, having to go to the bathroom several miles away, squealing when the animals defecate is closer to the recall of the day.  I clocked about 10 miles of walking and am almost hoarse from the repetition of certain statements, "Do not run"," Do not climb on that fence", "Do not pick that up", "Where is so and so?", "You have to go to the bathroom again?", "Stop pounding on that glass!"  The zoo echoes with these words from the teachers and parents scurrying through the paths of cages, trying to keep up with the pace of children while ducking to miss the cranes flying above. I actually imagined one of the monkeys wihispering to his mate that he was glad he was in the cage separated from the frenzy outside!  However, "S" had a fantastic time, I have accumulated at least 10 more points toward the entrance goal for heaven and no one had to be summoned from the PA system!  All is well with the world and God bless parents, and teachers alike because you rule the world!!

Every so often, I get a sense of guilt about not raising my hand to volunteer.  This is often driven by a request from "S"'s school.  Research has proved positive over and over that parent involvement improves the overall rating of a school and individual students, but yet I resist.  It simply comes down to the fact that when I retired, I never wanted to go back to school again.  From five years old until fifty-five, my schedule and routine was dominated by ten months of education and two months of vacation.  The bustle of children, the bells of changing classes, the hours of endless paperwork, the worry, the challenge and the accountabliity meshed as my career, my emotions, and my daily roster.  Rushing to meetings in the wee hours of the mornings before the clients arrived and barely crawling to bed in the same darkness was vital for survival.  It was exciting at times, frustrating at other times and always my passion.  But when it was over, I looked beyond the halls of room numbers and offices to seek another cause and pursue other avenues.  It never dawned on me that "S" would lead me right back where I started.  I love teaching her, reviewing spelling lists, discussing new science principles, reading to her and now listening to her read, but I have no desire to return to her classroom.  When I walk her in each day, I see a vision of a younger, sometimes naive, but always enthusiastic self,  but nothing within me wants to return to that person. I had a very successful career and accomplished what I set out to do within the confines of my field, but my present interest lies more with the changes within adults.  I am confident that I am not alone.  It seems that the same parents volonteer for each request and the other parents hesitate.  Some find this fulfilling and others for whatever reason do not.  Unfortunately the visble parents may appear more involved in their child's education, but I personally know this to be untrue.  It could be that the parents are too busy or like me are not compelled to be in the midst.  Thank you to all who volunteered when I taught and the youth who have carried that torch. You do so I do not have to and I appreciate it!

It has been several weeks and so much has happened, withlittle time to reflect.  I made a promiseto myself this year that I would enjoy and meditate on the true meaning of Christmas, but cookie dough, buying and wrapping gifts, decorating, sending Christmas cards and taking "S" to one Christmas activity to the next pageant took precedent.  I always admonish myself for my lack of insightful and spiritual renewal, but this well intentioned goal is upside down from the actual trek of holiday chaos.  I suppose it could be said that I spend far more time spreading the spirit than channeling the spirit, but I am not so sure that is the worst thing!  As I collapse within the rubble of worn decorations harkened for another year of hibernation within green and red plastic boxes, I think of my grandchildren laughing at silly antics, holding up a newly purchased cardigan for sizing or squealing at the sight of Santa's haul and I think it was all worth it.  2015 looks to be another year of continual activity.  I will be on a tread mill of birthday parties, weddings, family reunions, and a host of gatherings that I hope will bring out the best as I prepare for the worst!  My husband will train for a promotion within
his job and I will train for a triathlon of another sort-keeping the house from suffocating under an avalanche of dirty clothes, pruning a yard enveloped by weeds, overgrowth and too little precipitation, and running to and fro to finish the race ahead of a now seven year old!  Each year's weight sags from the chin, bulges over at the waistline and
digs deeper within the furrows of my brow, but I am determined to catch the draft of wind from the thirty-something moms and make 'S's" life as normal and fulfilling as can be.  Family, Fun and Faith is to be our yearly resolution! We will hold on when life catches us in a crosswind and I will let go as she tests her own wings!  I admit I am older, but not a bit wiser.  What I AM is more aware that life is fragile, unpredictable and startling, but each day can end with a smile in anticipation of the gift of tomorrow....

Where is Richard Simmons, the ET lead-in questions?  Indeed where is my mentor, my encourager, my only hope for a size 6?  The human bundle of muscles, endless energy and perpetual smile was depressed, they reported because he suffered a knee injury and could not exercise!  The bigger surprise is that someone becomes depressed over such a loss!  Show your face Richard, the cellulite is echoing in the night!  When "S" turned 4, it became evident that our energy levels were not balanced.  Actually the inverse was true.  As her energy increased, mine slowly diminished.  We were like the tortoise and the bunny, and I was never going to catch up.  I was starting to calculate the difference and "S" was going to be in an entirely new millennium before I ever got off the ground.  Drastic measures were needed!  The thought of going back to caffeine after going cold turkey twenty years ago and suffering a monstrous headache for a month seemed like a plausible solution, but medical problems were imminent.  My son, the personal trainer had another idea.  “You need to exercise, mom”, he exclaimed!  Now there was a concept I rarely pondered, like the first day of every New Year or the beginning of each summer, but only a week or so.  Or it could be that my dislike of exercise was a silent rebellion against the continual barrage of pressure from my immediate family to do so.  My son is a professional in the field, my daughter, the conqueror of all intensity programs, and my husband, a runner since 1978!  I was maintaining my own individuality apart from the blending of the family by claiming that housework, pulling weeds and chasing children was as good as any other sweat and grunt program.  Under more pressure and the "Catch me if you can" howl of a toddler, I gave in and decided to wipe the grime off a seventies tape where Richard promised you the "prom that you always dreamed of.”  Really, who dreams of a prom where you go dateless, dress in purple sweats and a matching striped headband and do a line dance of kicks, bends and crunches?  However within weeks of joining his crew, I became closely bonded to his band of merry men and women on the tape who range from size 20 to 8 in our mutual quest for tighter buttocks, shapely arms and the perfect tank top shoulders.  It was little surprise that my husband ordered the complete set of Simmons DVDs which progressed with a pint more sweat with each program.  For two years I remained loyal to the man in short shorts and a matching tank top until my son decided that I had mastered these movements and needed more of a challenge.  I now follow the lead of a girl that wears a size 0 and her band of twenty-somethings who eat only Kale, exercise for a living and have never given birth.  I usually follow the modified version of each exercise which is modeled by a normal size girl who smiles much more than the others and rarely uses the “heavy “  weights.  This DVD has been a challenge and I usually call out to Richard about half way through each routine.  The bottom line is this:  I HAVE MORE ENERGY, CAN BEND MORE, LIFT MORE, AND HAVE LOWERED MY CHOLESTEROL!  Yes, I am a convert and challenge anyone who reads this to take my family's advice and put aside 30 minutes a day to walk, or join the ranks of Richard Simmons’ followers.  Maybe you can even get him to come out of seclusion!

This is the third time I have attempted to publish my blog.  The first two attempts disappeared into cyberspace with the glitch of my computer. This only adds to my daily frustration and new mantra: Too much to do and too little time!  Two weeks ago, I read with interest and definite understanding an article published in our local newspaper.  It was titled: "Bringing up the grandbabies".  The author Stefanie Arias was empathetic to the "unique challenges" involved in raising one's grandchild, and she depicted as much by describing the plight of a couple doing just that.  I was surprised at the fact that I am among 18,000 in S.A. and 2.5 million in the U.S. who are parenting their child's children. The grandmother described in the article and I have a common core, but our situations are very different. You simply cannot categorize or diagnose one's condition by a single set of factors because the symptoms are as unique as the challenges.  This couple was very youthful and are often mistaken for the birth parents.  Unless wrinkles, and gray hair become more fashionable in thirty years young, I have Nani written all over my face!  They were married when the two grandchildren were babies so I would guess that the marriage had an unwritten clause that re-parenting was going to be a condition of the partnership.  My husband is still searching for the "way we were" and wondering when our king size bed will be for two and not for the third visitor in the night. This couple moved to San Antonio to be closer to family and support, whereas we were firmly entrenched in the community and have no family nearby to help us.  The differences are many, but there is common ground on much of what was said.  Your emotional and physical health can deteriorate with the stress and energy needed to raise a child in your later years.  Your adult social life plummets and it can strain your finances.  The couple also stated that it got too "weird" to continually explain why they were doing this.  Others think it is just a matter of "making your child" be the primary caretaker, but the grandchildren are the ones who bear the brunt of poor care and not the adults.  Most describe the care as the "honorable thing to do" and personally I think that men and women in the service should be described as such and not us.  Quite frankly it is usually a situation thrust upon us and we simply do the best we can for the lives of our babies. As with any difficult life challenge, it becomes more about our response and less about what we cannot control.  God bless all parents, all grandparents, and especially the grandparents who are now parents once again!   

I often wonder if parents see their childhood within their own child, Do they create the same memories, do they create the same environment as their own parents did, did they engage in the same activities.?  At least there is some sort of blueprint to follow if your childhood was one you wish to emulate.  By the very nature that I grew up in an age titled the "the age of conformity" but lived within a chaotic home that was filled with ambiguity, I am on my own to trailblaze the rearing of this child. I lived with absolutely no structure unlike one would imagine from the shows like "Leave it to Beaver" or  "Father knows best" where life was as consistent and predictable as June and Ward could make it.  In a mild mannered tone, they discussed the concerns or issues regarding Beaver and his brother Wally  and resolutions were always pleasant, respectful and unanimous.  June was the perfect housewife and Ward was the always loving husband.  My house was always loud, my parents bantered whenever they spoke and they dealt with offspring issues with "Expectations."  If you did not do what was told, you simply suffered the consequences.  My siblings and I were never questioned about where we were, who we were with or what we were doing. We were "expected" to behave or "face the music" so to speak.  Fast forward 60 or so years to the "age of technology" and you can see why this approach would not work.  I cannot use the same parenting style as my parents and quite frankly do not wish to, but adapting to the times makes me wary and constantly on a swinging learning curve.  I look at "S' and wonder each day if I am creating a bubble from which she will be ill prepared to face the dragons around each corner. "S" lives within a structure that I never knew as a child, but I am not sure that it will provide her with the resistance and fortitude to tackle the unexpected. "S" lives within an environment closer to June and Ward in the fifties, but must eventually deal with the trials within the 21st century.  I hope all this loving and problem-solving approach equips her for the chaos that I learned to live with when I was her age!     

Robin Williams, one of my favorite comedians and actors died last week.  His death was self-inflicted.  My husband's first cousin also died. He caught the garter at our wedding.  His death was natural, but died way too young as a consequence of unhealthy life choices.  Robin was born of privilege, was basically an insecure child, but rose to fame, power and influence through his comedic genius and bringing the stories of laughter, and raw honesty to the screen.  He was loved by his family and by millions of strangers.  He had unlimited resources. Our cousin was born to what many today would call very modest means, probably was insecure, never married or had children, and was known to only those whom he associated. His resources were severely limited. Robin's death is played out day after day in the media, recounted stories, tears streaming, undescribable sadness.  Our cousin is remembered by his brother who cries out on the social media about his loss and the knowledge that his future is without his older sibling. However, they had several similarities, they both died alone, no doubt were lonely, and had a host of demons. Life's challenges, emotional roller coasters, and alienation have no bias.  They creep into the psyche of each one of us whether we are rich, poor, educated, or not, influential or of little consequence because it reduces even the most powerful to hopelessness and despair.  Demons can be in the shape of jealousy, lust, addiction, abuse, vanity, or a host of other "tapes" that seep into our consciousness and scream to be heard and placated. I worked with the emotionally challenged for twenty years and still have few solutions to quieting the voices that drive many to the brink of self harm, social alienation or even to death. Some can co-habitate within individuals because they do not affect functioning, but other demons interfere with even the simplest of social connections or tasks.  I strive for the  answer, not for me, but for my children, grandchildren and "S" who I am reparenting.  I want the demons lying within to be smashed like bugs and flushed down the drain, but I have little in the way of professional  awareness to keep them at bay.  But within my heart and through personal experience I realize that one must first recognize the demon and how it affects the life of self or others, and secondly must want to initiate a change. Equally as important, one must reach out to another for help and lean on the support of the other until peace and happiness replace the chaos of the mind.  Both Robin and our cousin have finally found that inner calm, but I truly wish it could have been within their earthly days for the sake of those who love them.