The Deepest Cut

I was hoping to start the New Year with optimism. After finishing the first draft of my first novel in November, I was sure that 2011 was going to be the year; the year of no excuses, the year of fulfilling long held resolutions, the year our family was going to put past difficulties behind us. Instead, the first few days of 2011 have been some of the most challenging moments of my life as a parent.

What do you do when the people you love most in the world let you down? What do you do when the children you've nurtured and supported for more than two decades completely demolish your sense of trust, causing you to question every parenting move you've ever made? If you're expecting me to answer those questions, you're out of luck. After several bottles of wine and a lot of tears I don't have any answers. When your children make mistakes, it's easy to remember your own youth and have compassion. When they compound those mistakes by lying to your face over and over again, taking advantage of all the love and trust you've freely given, it's not so easy.

So, today I sat in the upper balcony in church and prayed for understanding. I asked God to help me get through this latest parenting hurdle with as much love and forgiveness as He can send my way. What I really want to do is change the locks, confiscate their cell phones and car keys and send them out into the real world to fend for themselves. Hopefully, my prayers will be answered with my offspring making amends in a concrete way that allows them to continue to have a roof over their heads without sacrificing my sanity and integrity. Then again, God may answer with the toughest response of all. He might agree with me.

Some Things Never Change

Today, I looked out of my bathroom window to see a familiar sight. The ritual of building a massive snow fort after the first major storm had begun. Snow was flying everywhere as the mound of white stuff deposited at the end of the cul-de-sac by our friendly, neighborhood plow began to take shape. My husband and son were crawling around on all fours as they dug out places to sit, as well as a tunnel to wiggle through. Gloved hands painstakingly molded the outer walls until the icy mass resembled an Eskimo palace. In years past I would have been a puddle of tears watching father and son build their masterpiece but this year I was too busy laughing. My husband is fifty-seven and my son is twenty-two!

They said they were getting it ready for my ten year old nephew's arrival but I wasn't falling for that one. I have no doubt that they were enjoying themselves just for the sheer fun of getting out there and playing in the snow. Hey, anything that gets my son away from video gaming and my husband away from his desk is okay by me. The fact that they were having so much fun constructing this winter playhouse (due to melt by the end of the week) made me appreciate the fact that our kids are still living with us. It's not often that I see anything resembling a Norman Rockwell painting around here so I'm going to savor every moment I get. I might even be waiting with the hot chocolate. With marshmallows.