The Single Mom's Guide for Raising a Young Man

This single mom's new how-to resource

It's a blind spot and a tricky deal for a single mom. 

The necktie. Oh, I can pick them out, buy them, assess the fabric and color to go with the shirt, sure. But actually tying the knot... well... not so much.

There's no shortage of resources online...

Tie-a-Tie

The Art of Manliness

Tie guide

Tie-a-Tie Easily!

Tieapedia

To tie a tie

There are youtube videos. It's in the Cub Scout handbook. 

And it is no joke it is in the Cub Scout handbook, right with all the other diagrams of knots. It all sounds like a Bugs Bunny cartoon to me - the Windsor, the half Windsor, the four-in-hand, the Pratt knot, and the swanky bow tie. 

Ask any man to tie a tie, as my dear boy has often done, and you see that some men can do it swiftly and no questions asked. Others take their time, stick out their tongue a bit. Stand behind him or stand in front of him. Or simply tie it around their own neck, loosen the knot, and then slip the circle over his head lasso-style and cinch up the knot. 

He's then admonished to just keep the tie tied and slide it on and off as needed. Which is what we have done, however... he says that it is important for him to learn how to do it himself. Even though there is no shortage of resources available, because I have half-heartedly tried to tie the half-Windsor myself, it is helpful to have a person of knowledge standing there to show you where you are going wrong. 

A dear friend has reminded me of a magazine I used to love to read when I was a college co-ed because it was about all things men. Esquire has become this single mom's new resource for "how-to." Because learning to tie a good knot in a neck tie is only the beginning... 

A little rant for Mother's Day

Last week, some friends of mine and I were having conversation about the Time magazine cover... you know, this one... and one of my friends remarked that the cover and the article once again served to divide women, when we really don't need anymore reasons.

And then Sunday rolled around... speaking of dividing women... 

Don't get me wrong... I love the cards, the breakfast in bed, the picnic orchestrated for Mother's Day, all the lovely handcrafted things my children have made for me over the years that I still have. It's just that I know too many people who spend that beautiful Sunday in May silently grieving.

I think my awareness of this started in high school. My pastor said that it was Mother's Day and all the women in the church were to get a flower and she explained why. From then on, I've been aware that Mother's Day is not the holiday for families that Hallmark wants us to buy into...

For the women in our society who are not mothers, either by choice or by circumstance, are somehow made to feel that they aren't in the club because they haven't had a child. 

For those whose mothers have died and they are remembering and grieving.

For those mothers who have lost a child.

For those who are estranged or have a difficult relationship with their mother. 

For those children who are raised by two dads. 

For dads who are raising their children alone. 

I don't think I am better than another woman simply because I have had a child. I know plenty of women who would be incredible mothers and I know plenty of women who have no business being a mother. 

I'm not suggesting we boycott Mother's Day.  It is a lovely tradition and sentiment. I just want us to be sensitive and mindful of the quiet pain of others.  

A lovely gift

A close friend of mine is a photographer and she took these photos of me at a particularly difficult time.

I was still married and my subconscious had already decided that my marriage was over. The rest of me had a long way to go to reach that realization. The photo shoot was to help me feel good about the awakening I was going through. And it certainly did. I am totally rocking that dress...

Today, I was chatting via email with my friend who took these photos and the next thing I knew, she sent them to me again. "I just wanted to remind you how far you have come since these photos were taken."

Speechless. I remember feeling really amazed when I saw these photos the first time and feeling really good about them. Today, I feel so much love, empathy, heartache, and more for the woman I was in November 2008. To be honest, I feel that pain acutely looking at these photos.

What a gift from a dear friend, to chronicle this time for me so that someday I would look back, as I did today, with love and gratitude for the journey so far.

Emerge

emerge  verb 

intransitive verb

1. to become manifest, to become known.

2. to rise from or as if from an enveloping fluid

3. to rise from an obscure or inferior position or condition

4. to come into being through evolution

I've noticed the first moths and butterflies of the season lately. In my yard, the ones I have seen are black with an orange smudge on each wing. They are pretty creatures, butterflies and moths. Not being too into bugs, they are one of the few that don't make me go, "eeuw." 

I have learned to appreciate that those "delicate" butterflies are extraordinary survivors. Even though it is their lifecycle, they have had to earn that beauty. Emerging is messy. It takes a lot of energy and perseverance. 

I can relate to that.  Struggling to emerge from your own chrysalis can feel more like fighting against yourself,  your choices, habits, ways of living that may no longer serve you. I think one of the reasons we are all so chronically tired is that we are spending so much energy fighting against ourselves, beating ourselves up for not being the perfect person we think the world wants us to be. 

Emerging and transforming requires letting go. It's letting go of one rung of the ladder so that we can move to the next one. And that's hard to do. 

"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from." T.S. Eliot

Leaving the path of Acceptance

     Acceptance is a person's agreement to experience a situation, to follow a process or            condition (often a negative or uncomfortable situation) without attempting to change it, protest, or exit.

     Acceptance as a concept appears in Eastern religious concepts such as Buddhist mindfulness, and in human psychology. Religions and psychological treatments often suggest the path of acceptance when a situation is both disliked and unchangeable, or when change may be possible only at great cost or risk.

You know Acceptance. It's the same as "go along to get along", "don't rock the boat", "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." Acceptance was my primary setting, my mode of operation. Acceptance became a habit that robbed me of my voice and buried my true self. I accepted everything and everyone, which sounds really virtuous, but many of those situations and people require some deeper examination. For me, Acceptance was really one layer after another of damp, wet blankets that nearly put out my inner fire.

Through a lot of work, and therapy, and writing, and enough tears to float a boat, I parted ways with Acceptance. I woke up from the coma I found myself in - never speaking up, never questioning, never protesting, and realized that I was missing out on life by accepting everything that came by. Do you remember The Stepford Wives? Yeah, I was one of those... always smiling, always politically correct, always diplomatic, and truly false. (I love that, "truly false.")

Leaving the path of Acceptance has been difficult. Probably one of the most difficult things I have ever done. But I have found my voice again, allowed my inner fire to use those blankets as fuel, and began to question and examine life again.

Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living." How many of us are living our lives just going through the motions of everyday busyness thinking that we are truly living? We accept that "it's just the way it is", "I'm just lucky to have a job", "I can't leave my marriage, even though we are just roommates with kids." There is a whopping lot of comfort with Acceptance and there are times when Acceptance is very positive as solid reality and a coping mechanism.

But Acceptance can be like a drug. Therapeutic and healing when used with care.  Acceptance can be abused and habit-forming when we keep thwarting our desires as if they are annoyances.

The ride on this big blue marble is a short one. If you could do anything you wanted to in life, anything, what would it be? A novelist? A racecar driver? Run a tennis camp for kids? International business tycoon? Chef-owner of your own restaurant? A photo-journalist? Winemaker? Professional volunteer? President of the PTA or the USA?  Own a bike shop? What are you called to do and is Acceptance of the way you think life has to be right now standing in the way of that?

Life's calling. What are you going to do?

Sensory Overload

Today's view is one that is lush with spring's sensory overload. Kelly green grass, deeply scented lilacs, and tulips of every shade.  The white crabapple trees in the lawn of the church actually glowed in the moonlight after leaving worship Thursday night. 

For many of us, Easter is a time that brings back memories. This week, I've been helping my son assemble a memory box for the title character in the novel, "Friedrich." It's a story of a Jewish boy in Germany during the time of Hitler. John's assignment is to create a box that may have belonged to Friedrich. It is to include at least a few things - a set of letters from a new character the student creates who is a friend to Friedrich, what might be considered photos of Friedrich, a whistle, and a photo of the new character and Friedrich.

This week, we went through a similar box I created several years ago. It includes old photos of my grandfather during his time at the University of Iowa around 1915.  Letters from home my uncle receieved while he was at UI or in basic naval training. An old savings book from great aunt Ellen. A small framed silhouette of Aunt Beverly. 

This small box doesn't hold much. However, what it does contain are truly links between my children and family members they will never meet except through these items. It has been wonderful to go through the photos and items and have my children listen to their grandmother share her family with them... Florence, Kate, Mabel, Ann, Ellen, Clara, Richard, Beverly, Riley...

Also in this box of mine are photos of my grandmother, Virginia. She loved Easter. I remember the beautiful egg tree she would decorate and the scent of Easter lilies in her home. I have Easter cards she sent to me as a little girl, signed in her lovely script. Between the lily in my own home and the photos, I do feel like I am spending the holiday with her, too.

Easter brings sentimental memories to me of new dresses, white gloves, black patent leather shoes, and of course, a hat. Easter eggs made of sugar with a little peep hole to view a beautiful garden scene within... the list goes on.

This weekend, I'll enjoy those memories of Easters past, of loved ones who live only in spirit, and soak in the rebirth of the land as spring has returned. I wish for you the joy that spring brings.

When you keep doing what you've always done...

From our earliest days we learn that if we cry, our stomachs are filled, our fears are soothed, our bum is  clean and dry. While our needs change as we age, we are conditioned that certain behaviors and actions will provide us with the results we want.

Until it doesn't.

Last week, Seth Godin challenged readers to think consciously about our personal narrative. (You can read it in its entirety here.)

Godin writes: "Did you wake up fresh today, a new start, a blank slate with resources and opportunities.... or is today another day of living out of the narrative you've been engaged in for years? For all of us, it's the latter. We maintain our worldview, our biases, our grudges, and our affections. We nurse our grudges and see the very same person (and situations) in the mirror today that we did yesterday. It's painful to even consider giving up the narrative we use to live our life. We vividly remember the last time we made an investment that didn't match our self story, or the last time we went to the "wrong" restaurant or acted the "wrong" way in a sales call. No, that's too risky, especially now, in this economy. So we play it safe and go back to our story."

Instead of playing it safe, what if we allow ourselves a little bit of risk? A little deviation from the tried and true? What if the "tried and true" is really not getting us what we want?

"If you keep doing what you've always done, you'll keep on getting what you've always gotten." - W.L. Bateman

What if your narrative, your way of making decisions and living your life, opened up ever so slightly? What if you took a risk on something that was good rather than setting it aside because it wasn't quite perfect? We all run wounded in some way with scars and baggage and ick that we carry around with us. Humans are not perfect and we go to great lengths to try to make our lives that way in order to avoid pain and hurt. Not that there's anything wrong with that inherently, but what amazing opportunities are we missing because we are following our plan to avoid taking the risk of living with our whole selves?

The truth is, breakthroughs and new experiences aren't usually found in the safe places of life. Not much new in the ruts of the road. Is that really getting you where you want to be? I'm talking about setting the map aside and maybe taking the next exit off the autobahn. Even if you don't know where you are headed... take a leap of faith.

We all have those wounds that life and love have left behind. They may be very fresh, they may be in the process of healing, and they may be scars, but we all have them. I want to challenge you to think and feel - at what point does your narrative hold you back from opening up and taking the risk of living fully and true to the person you are meant to be?

"Le mieux est l'ennemi du bien." ~ Voltaire
(The perfect is the enemy of the good.)

"I'm just gonna let something brand new happen to me." ~ CeeLo Green
(Gen X Barry White)