Peg Kerr's Journal

My church has a lovely custom which we have performed the past several years in order to celebrate the children we have seen grow up in the church who are about to graduate from high school. A knotted fleece blanket is made for each grad in their high school colors, and they are draped over the rail at the front of the church through the entire service. At the end of the service, the students, each wearing a corsage, are called up, and they are joined by their families, Sunday school teachers, confirmation leaders, and any other caring adult who has gotten to know them over the years who wishes to come up, too.

Delia's school doesn't really have colors--it's a very small charter school--but their mascot is the dragon, and they are very LGBTQ friendly, and so the rainbow is welcome there. The church found exactly the right fabric to honor her ("my blanket is the awesomest!" she said). At the end of the prayers of blessing and sending forth, the parents and other adults who love the child drape the child in his or her blanket.

Out in the Narthex, a gift bag is set up for each grad, with a description of their plans for the coming year taped to the front (where they plan to go to college or trade school; what they want to study). The congregation is encouraged to write caring notes which are slipped into each of the balloon-decorated bags, and then everyone celebrates with cupcakes.

When we were walking out to the car, it brought another memory flooding back, which I wrote in my journal in 2005 here. This is the crucial paragraph, a description of a moment when I looked at her when she was almost nine years old:

I looked at her, really looked, as we approached the car. The balloons bobbed over her head, blobs of bright and happy color bouncing on the breeze. She had a Blizzard in her hand, a treat that she loves. She wore her dearly beloved flip-flops, and a lilac blouse, and a pair of stained and battered shorts that spoke of hours in the sun, playing. And I was suddenly proud that I could give her that moment, and all the other moments we have given her. She was out for Dairy Queen with her family. We were giving her a life, a childhood full of balloons. I hope she will look back on this moment someday and agree that yes, it was good. As a parent who loves my girls with a passion and tries really really hard, it helps to know that sometimes (at least once in a while) I manage to do some things right.

I showed the entry to Delia recently. She looked at me today as we approached the car, again with balloons bobbing over her head, and she said aloud just what I was thinking: "a childhood, with balloons!" Now her childhood is ending, again with balloons, and a lovely ritual to remind her that no matter where she goes on her journey from here, our love and our prayers go with her.

This is really well done. And funny.

Delia sent an email message to some of her loved ones that read in part:

So, I've been thinking a lot about my birthday, what it means to me, and what I want. This year however, I don't really want the expensive camera, or the latest apple product or the newest cricut machine. I don't think I want material things this year.

Could you find some way to send me wisdom? I respect and admire each and every one of you, and I would love just a little piece of the wisdom that you all have. You are all such great people who have loved me no matter what, even when I made mistakes or I didn't believe you when you would say "I love you".

I know that this is a really different request from my past birthday wishes but I have some ideas in case you're stumped. Just know however that I want to know even more than what I ask here. Tell me and teach me things that I haven't even thought of.

...

These are just some of the things I think about when I'm wondering how you're doing and how you have lived such great inspiring lives. Your lives may not have been easy to start off with, and they may not be easy now, but you are satisfied with them. That is what I'm most envious of, your pure spirit, loving nature and wisdom that has let you all be satisfied with your lives, even at the worst of times.

Even though this might be confusing, I hope you understand somehow or someway. If you send me some wisdom in the mail, could you have it on it's own piece of paper? I want to collect these from all of my heros and inspirations and keep them together, for me to look at when I feel lost in life or simply miss you guys. Oh, and don't be afraid to decorate it!

I love you all!

This is what I wrote and included with her birthday card:

For Delia, on the occasion of your sixteenth birthday
With love, from Mom and Dad

1. You don't have to have everything figured out all at once.
You have a lifetime to discover who you are. We have no doubt that who you are becoming will be a wonderful person, but some parts may take years to figure out, whether it's what you want to do for your career, or who you want to love, or what you believe about God, or politics, or ethics, or all the other big life questions. Be patient with the process, because no one is keeping score. The journey is part of the process.

2. Be kind to yourself.
You are worthy of being loved. You are worthy of respect, even if you screw up and make mistakes. And you WILL make mistakes, because you are human. Frankly, if you DIDN'T make mistakes, you'd be kind of insufferable. Love your own body, show it respect, and treat it well.

3. Be kind to others.
Or if you can't be kind (because you just don't click with someone, or your values don't mesh with them, or they've hurt you), be wary and put your energy into protecting your boundaries, rather than being needlessly cruel.

4. Make sure that others are kind to you.
Don't let others treat you badly. Remember the rule we raised you with: when you say, 'Please stop' the other person has to stop. If they don't, you don't need them in your life. You have the right to expect that respect.

5. Be open to experience.
Be brave, without being reckless. Try new things. Be open to new people. We think that your inner creativity will probably make you a natural at this, but remember to keep renewing your commitment to this as you grow older. It's natural to fall into patterns and to go with what's easy. Strive to keep from falling into ruts.

6. Ask for help if you need it.
You will acquire mentors throughout your life. You have already shown your wisdom by asking for wisdom for your birthday. Keep doing that. Keep an eye out for people whose lives you admire and pick their brains. People are usually delighted to be asked for their expertise. If you realize that you are in a situation where you are over your head, or you feel trapped or you're being abused, and you need help ask for it. Don't let pride stop you.

7. Be open to love.
Love can hurt, but it is also the source of some of life's greatest joys. Sometimes it takes work, and that can be kind of a pain, but it's worth putting in the work. It won't be perfect. No one can effortlessly intuit what you need, and sometimes you have to tell them. Sometimes loving someone else doesn't mean feeling love, but it's an act of will. Your mommy and daddy come down strongly on the side of, 'Love is worth it.' You are worth it. Never doubt it.

Dutch filmmaker Frans Hofmeester filmed his daughter once a week from birth to age twelve and made this 2 minute 45 second video by splicing bits of them together.




Yes. They grow up so fast.

HOW IS IT that I did not know that this beloved book had been made into a Broadway musical? I ran across the link to this song, and I really really like it. What a great song about a young girl brimming with life and hope, on the cusp of adulthood. Mothers, take note. Will probably investigate and buy the soundtrack tonight.

Fiona and Delia? This one's for you.

Love,

Your mother




("I just want to... cure disease and write a symphony and win the Nobel Prize like other girls.")

I kidnapped Fiona tonight so that I could take her out to see The Lion King 3-D.

You must understand: for a period of perhaps three years, Fiona was OBSESSED with the Lion King. Perhaps it was because we started her watching videos relatively late in her childhood, so when she finally saw a movie like that it made a huge impact on her imagination. Our particularly special custom was that we woke her up with the soundtrack every morning. That is more profound than you may realise: each morning, she was awakened by Lebo M's joyful cry to the sun, followed by the hushed counterpoint, echoing across the African savannah:

Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba [Here comes a lion, Father]
Sithi uhm ingonyama [Oh yes, it's a lion]

Nants ingonyama bagithi baba
Sithi uhhmm ingonyama
Ingonyama

Siyo Nqoba [We're going to conquer]
Ingonyama
Ingonyama nengw' enamabala [A lion and a leopard come to this open place]

And then a solemn, swelling incantation followed, calling her to life, to wakefulness, assuring her that life has pattern, meaning, order. Circle of Life makes me think of youth, family, right beginnings.

Then, as the sleepiness ebbed away and we wrestled her into her clothes, the bouncy, optimistic strains of "I Just Can't Wait to Be King," started up, a cheerful ditty brimming with anticipation and good humor. That was a great way to encourage her to look forward to a new day.

It was wonderful to see the movie again, and fun to experience it in 3D. Unlike many standard movies that have 3D added, animated movies work very nicely in 3D. Since the colors are so rich and saturated, you don't have that murky sense that plagues some. It was wonderful to share it with her again.

I think that by beginning the mornings of her childhood with these songs, we gave her a very great gift.

We're gradually checking off the tasks still needing to be done before Fiona moves into the dorm on Saturday. Last night, Rob got the new mouse working on her new laptop, and then I walked her through the process of reconciling her bank statements on the newly installed Quicken software. "Keep up with it diligently, every month," I warned her. "As long as you are making your entries on Quicken and using Mint, you'll be keeping good tabs on your money. And you're not going to have much of it, so heaven knows you need to be keeping a close watch."

We've really been sweating since she hadn't heard anything back on any of the jobs for which she's applied (work study) and she NEEDS a job because she doesn't have any other way to pay for books and expenses. But she finally got word back from one, the public safety (escort) office, and she has an interview today. Keep your fingers crossed for her.

After we were done with the Quicken, I gave her her nightly backrub, painfully aware that this would be one of the last times for this little ritual, which has become increasingly precious to me over the past year. "I'm really going to miss this," I told her. She smiled sleepily.

"I'm going to miss you so much. I'm going to miss your mad eyebrow arching skillz. I'm going to miss your wry sense of humor." I kneaded the strong muscles in her back, feeling the tension release, and I moved lower to work on her thighs and calves. "I'm going to miss the way you always forget and clunk your head on the back of your chair at the dinner table." She laughed. "I'm going to miss having someone else in the house who listens to wizard rock. I'm going to miss seeing you sitting around curled up in a chair, with your nose in a book. I'm going to miss the way you throw Buffy quotations into every conversation. I'm going to miss sitting with my arm around you during church. I'm going to miss the way you look just pole-axed in the morning because your brain isn't booted up quite yet. I'm going to miss taking you to karate. I'm going to miss writing up little stories about you on Livejournal. I'm going to miss your kindness to your little sister." I thought for a moment and tweaked her ear. "I'm not going to miss yelling at you for not taking out the garbage."

She smiled again.

"Or the way you keep putting the water pitcher back into the refrigerator empty." I felt a wave of sentiment wash over me. "I think back on that first long talk I had with you in the hospital, the day after you were born. I wish I had a tape recording of it, so I could listen to it again. And so you could listen to it with me." That memory is unbelievably special to me, that afternoon when I looked down into her ageless, elfin eyes and told her that I would do the best possible job I could being her mommy, but I would undoubtedly screw up sometimes, and I hoped she would forgive me. I remember the conversation we had at her tenth birthday party, when that memory came up again.

I smiled down at her and smoothed the soft skin on her back. She recognized our unspoken signal that the back rub was over and then turned on her side to snuggle close to me and nuzzle me with her nose. That cuddle and nuzzle, I've always joked, is my reward for doing the backrub. "I feel a lot better about you being ready to leave than I did at the beginning of the summer."

She nodded. "That book you got me really helped. I found it useful, and I'm not even the target audience."

"I also think of that Livejournal post I did a few years ago," I replied, "where I asked people for advice about what we would need to teach you before you left home. We've managed to check a lot of those things off of the list, haven't we?"

"Yeah. But don't forget, you still will have some chances left to try to civilize me," she joked.

I looked down into her beloved face, with those same elfin eyes, and I brimmed over with pride and love. "We gave you a good childhood, didn't we, honey?"

She smiled her beautiful smile at me. "Yeah. You did."

I reached over and hugged her. "I love you so much," I mumbled into her shoulder. "I'm so incredibly proud of you.

You're going to be just fine."

From Lois McMaster Bujold's The Vor Game:

[after Miles Vorkosigan made a difficult, strategic decision to disobey a possible criminal order from his superior officer and ended up getting cashiered out of his military command, he has to go home and face his father, Aral Vorkosigan, the regent of Barrayar] Miles looked up at his father. "Did ... I do the right thing, sir? Last night?"

"Yes," said the count simply. "A right thing. Perhaps not the best of all possible right things. Three days from now you may think of a cleverer tactic, but you were the man on the ground at the time. I try not to second-guess my field commanders."

That is what parenting has been like lately. You think when you bring this darling angelic baby home from the hospital, that if you can just figure out how to keep this darling angelic baby from squalling her lungs out and sleep all the way through the night, your troubles will be over. But it's not like that. Your challenges become greater as the child grows older, and wouldn't you know it, there is no owner's manual. There is no one to tell you, when you have to make difficult decisions for your child, that you are doing the right thing. That has sometimes been extremely hard for me, even perhaps the hardest thing of all about being a parent. But it's comforting to reflect, when I'm deep in the trenches of parenthood, making the tough decisions that get me reviled by this child that I love, that I can do a right thing. Not the definitive right thing, because perhaps there just isn't one.

This week, I'm hanging onto that all that I can.

Edited to add: Dagnabbit, why aren't any of the Vorkosigan books available for the Nook?

I was a super mom yesterday.

Went to work. Earned income.
Stopped at bank. Took out money to give to husband since he is not earning income or unemployment.
Came home. Made nutritious dinner (chicken, brown rice, fruit salad: apples, oranges, pomagranate seeds).
Counseled Delia on a school problem and helped her brainstorm a strategy for addressing it.
Went to sparring with Fiona. Hit people. Hit pads. Did abs workout.
Came home. Assisted Delia with homework project.
Then shortly before 10:00 pm, just as I was sitting down with a sigh of relief with my new Barnes & Noble Nook, Fiona came to me and said, "I just remembered: there's a book that would be perfect for my IB Extended Essay [the mega-important paper that is due on Friday; she's doing it on the Woman Warrior in fantasy fiction.] I heard the author speaking at Portus and I thought that what she said about the book would be spot-on for my project. I just remembered it now. How can I get the book in time to use it for my paper?"

I suppressed a groan. "Fiona, why are you telling me this now instead of a month ago?"

"I forgot it was being published. But it would be so perfect..."

I looked up the book online. It would be perfect. I checked the Hennepin County library system. They didn't have it. I checked the U of MN library system. They had it, but it was in the St. Paul library, and I don't have check out privileges anyway.

"Maybe there's an e-book edition?" We checked. It wasn't available for the Barnes & Noble Nook. But it was available for the Kindle.

Damn.

I thought. My parents have a Kindle. But 10:00 p.m....they'd be in bed already. Then I thought of my sister Betsy, who I knew had one, too. I gave Fiona a look. "I could call Betsy, and see if she'd load it and then drive out there to pick it up." I winced. "Tonight. You owe me."

"I know." She gave me a doe-eyed look. "Please?"

So I called and spoke to Betsy's husband, Greg. It turned out they would be willing to download the book and loan the Kindle (Fiona had $20 to pay them). They were just about to drive downtown to drop their son off for a bus ride to Chicago. So Fiona and I drove downtown and met Betsy, who gave us the Kindle. Fiona started reading it on the drive home and said, yes, it was perfect.

So I get karmic Mommy points galore. Fiona has already announced on Facebook that her Mom's the best.

Calling in sick. And then spending the day dealing with daughter repeatedly vomiting, because she's even sicker.

It could have been worse. At least she managed to reach the bucket every time.