Control or guidance?

What parent hasn't been accused by a teenager of having control issues? It has always struck me as a laughable accusation, with no underpinning in the truth. Control? Or guidance?
  I always think of myself as being objective enough with my child to give him solid advice and caution, based on a variety of factors, one of which is, of course, my opinion.
  But sometimes, he is right. Sometimes it is about control. Oh, of course not overtly. It's a subtle, even subconscious thing but one that I try to be vigilant over. The way I determine whether or not my motives are based in control is simple. Am I giving him advice, direction and parameters because I mainly just want him to do what I want him to do? Or do I truly have his happiness, growth and independence at heart?
  When I talk to my son, I try to come from a place of honesty and sharing, not of manipulation, though I have to admit that I am guilty of that in the past. Worry and fear can make me want to control behavior that I know has the inherent potential for disastrous outcomes. Worry can also make for draconian, knee-jerk ultimatums that can afford some control in the short term but in the long run, has no staying power. And I am left to ask, what life lessons have I taught? In the long run, it's best the help my child develop the ability to make great life choices.
   It all comes down to whether or not I are willing to risk something of myself when communicating with my son, which means being real, honest, vulnerable and true. For when I simply don the parent mask all the time, I run the risk of being disingenuous, preachy, duplicitous and often times, unheard.
  
  

Cairo revisited

Visiting Egypt several years ago was one of the most impacting experiences of my life. Though we did this as part of a structured, group tour--something we try to avoid when traveling--it was perhaps the best way to experience this particular culture, because in doing so, we were able to see what wasn't shown, and infer what wasn't ever said.
   That was three years ago. While some of the discussion during our trip centered around the regime of President Hosni Mubarak--the three decades and counting leader of that country--much of the growing rage was still carefully under wraps.
   Our tour guide was a man of privilege and was carefully and artfully politically correct. I never got a good read on his politics because he was tactful in his response to my questions about the lack of separation between church and state, a dearth of women's rights, sketchy child labor laws and the staggering rate of poverty. The Egypt presented to us apparently didn't seem to take issue with any of that. Rather it was a benign and gentle one.
   What was riding under the surface has erupted in the last week and helps explain a lot of what wasn't said to us by our guide. We were somewhat aware of this during our time in Cairo, when a former student of mine took us to dinner and spent time filling us in on the rest of the story, much of which is playing out on the news and in the newspapers as I write this.
   I emailed her yesterday, fearful for her safety and that of her family. I read that the Internet connection has been blocked. so I have yet to hear back from her. I will continue to email her until I do so.
   What is happening in Cairo is not unique or isolated. While it's easy to turn the page or the channel, I believe it is our collective duty as informed citizens of a democracy to keep informed. Only then do we really have a right to our opinions.

Pushing back

Sometimes in life you don't know your boundaries until someone pushes on them. Boundaries and borders don't come easily to me. And since I believe we're never too old to learn, it's in the middle-aged years of my life that I am finding how some of mine have been buried or non-existent.
   Enabling behavior is tough to see when it comes to our children. Our internal, invisible arms reach out to them constantly, and become even more insistent when they push back and want nothing to do with us. Inherently knowing that our kids have to push back does little to pull our arms back. Reflexively, we reach out further and further, wearing down our muscles and making us weary, lonely for acknowledgement.
   When they do reach back to us, our instincts are to grab them. But most of the time, this isn't the best thing. Especially when it reflects enabling behavior, which simply put is believing we are helping them when we are only making the situation worse and are actually doing the opposite of what we intended. The lines are very blurred when it comes to our children.
   No stranger to codependence, I have to work actively on my own enabling behavior. It is hard to see in myself, so I have installed an alarm system in my boundaries. When it goes off, I know I am in danger of enabling. While enabling might be reflexive, and feel right and even good, I know that behavior is wrong.
   Our children have to be able to grow up. And to do that, they have to realize there are consequences to each and every action. To not teach them this is a grave disservice. Especially when they are on the brink of adulthood. In a nutshell, it is a learned thing to let go.
 

Dad's Anniversary

Six years ago today, my four brothers, two sisters, brother-in-laws, my husband and me sat in my dad's hospital room while he died. We were all on one side of the room, which had one of those pull curtains that separated it into two. My youngest brother was sitting with him on the other side of the curtain. My oldest brother at that moment was telling a very funny story to rest of us, who were unaware of what was happening on the other side of the curtain. We were all laughing very hard, when my youngest brother's voice came through the curtain. "He's gone."
   Recalling the moment when Dad's life left his body, he said later that it happened when he was holding Dad's hand. And as Dad died, my brother was filled with supreme joy and a liberating happiness. As he headily described it, "It was like children playing in a playground. And balloons lifting off from the ground."
   It brings me such profound fulfillment to know that my brother was with him when he crossed over. And the last thing he heard was all of us laughing.

How's the weather in your parts?

She finally said. My sister finally said what I have been waiting to hear since I moved to Erie 10 years ago. "Why do they keep canceling school just because of the snow?" A lifelong Connecticut resident like I used to be, little miss sister has been raised in the what I like to call the state of hysteria. That is the state that cancels school before the first flake even arrives. Such has been the case over and over again this winter, in Connecticut as well as Massachusetts, New Jersey, Rhode Island and New York. They have received record amounts of snow, sufficiently trading places with us.
   Finally, with their umpteenth storm on the way and no more snow days to be had, she finally understood what I have known since moving to this land of lake effect snow: deal with it. My son never stayed home from school during all his winters of living in northwest Pennsylvania. There are no such thing as snow days. Snow is a part of the winter here and closing down schools and businesses makes little sense.
   Speaking to a friend from New Jersey who used to love snow, I showed no mercy. She is fed up with shoveling and longs for the warm winds of spring. She complains as do my eastern seaboard siblings, yet I show no mercy. Walk a mile in my moccasins.
   Weather is weather, and perhaps the best lesson I have learned since transplanting here is that nobody wants to hear you whine about  it. Cheers.