She Made Me Who I Am

Marty and Gabi, 1970

Exactly forty-three years ago, on a July morning at 7:00 am,
Gabi made me a mom.

I wasn't quite twenty-one when she was born, and I didn't have a clue about what it meant to be a mom. I just knew it was what I was meant to be. (My big fear as a teenager was that I would die before I had kids. I wasn't afraid of how I would die, or being dead, but that my dream of being a mother wouldn't come true. I must have wished on a lucky star!)

She was born breach (and totally natural, I might add) folded in half, and she inhaled before she hit oxygen, leaving her breathless. The nurses worked on her for a few minutes and then whisked her away somewhere, without telling us anything about how she was. After over nine months of togetherness, it was terrifying to be apart. Several hours later they brought her to me. I was overwhelmed—now I was breathless!

For a couple of days I kept trying to say a magnificent prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for letting me have her, but I couldn't find the words. I felt ungrateful just saying "Thank you, thank you" over and over again, but I think He may have understood.

Early days.

Gabi came into my life only 18 months after Dee did. She's known us almost as long as we've known us! In fact, she helped us become US. She lived in our first tiny trailer home, our second less (but still) tiny trailer home; she rode in the VW and the Vega, and saw Dee as a soldier. She was part of our college life, and part of our pre-TV, pre-income days. We started leaving shoes out for St. Nickolas Day, and cookies for Santa because of her. She made us a family.

I read out loud to Gabi from the day she was born. Mostly I read Dr. Spock as I nursed her, trying to figure out when she'd do something interesting. Dee laid on the floor with her for hours demonstrating how to roll over. It actually took hours of watching her for him to figure out the steps of rolling over. He practiced with her for about six months until she caught on. We figured we'd taught her, not realizing that she'd come already programmed to do every important thing. We didn't have to teach her much. In fact, she taught us.

'Noopy

I read an article about how to make your child a genius. It said to tie helium balloons to your baby's wrists and ankles, and their eyes would catch the movement. Eventually they'd realize they were pulling the strings! I tried it, and it must have worked. She became a genius, and knew how to pull all our string.

She could sing dozens of songs, say the Pledge of Allegiance, recite poems and ask questions by 18 months. By the time she was two, I was asking her questions.

Gabi 1972

Looking back, I see that she brought color into my life. She became my best friend. I'd even consult her about what I should wear! (She knew exactly what they were wearing at the laundromat, and milk depot, which were my usual destinations.) Her siblings started arriving about that time, and it was a joint project for us. I saw her as my confidant and support.

She was an awesome babysitter, first for me, and then for many others. She became a nanny, and tended kids for weeks at a time while their parents traveled. She worked at a nursery school and daycare center during high school, and then majored in Elementary Education. She taught 6th graders who were taller than she was. She also taught Kindergarten and Pre-school. She was born to teach.

She met her perfect match, they got married and worked their way through college for a few years before they graduated. Being the perfect parental candidates didn't translate to being parents. While they waited, they built careers and houses and moved across the country. They traveled and had fun together until the other shoe dropped. They did become parents . . . twice in three years, and then again with twin boys . . . and they did it with a flourish!

It's stunning to look at this woman whom I admire and respect so much, and realize she's my daughter! She sets an example of kindness, hospitality, charity, spirituality and energy that I can't come close to emulating. She changed me forever and I'll be forever grateful to be her mom.

Happy Birthday, Gabi!

School of Thought: What Was She Thinking?

We become what we think about.

Fifty years from now our faces will reveal our secrets.

Heartache,

Heartbreak,

Delight,

Humor,

Kindness,

Imagination.

What do you think about? I got an email one day from a woman who reads my blog. She said she was raised on lemons instead of lemonade, and asked, "Can you learn to be optimistic, or do you have to inherit it?" In answer I wrote this post called:

Positively!

I both learned and inherited optimism from my dad. He was consistently positive and hopeful, and he looked for the good in others. I always felt like I was smart, talented and unique because he told me I was. His faith in my abilities kept my self-esteem healthy. Dad had a pep talk for every occasion and I learned them all by heart. By the time I was an adult, being optimistic was a natural part of my personality. It's a trait I've needed often.

Dee and I started out with nothing but hope. A vital part of our relationship is to buoy each other up—we count our blessings and reflect on great memories—when troubles come. Balancing on the teeter-totter of reality requires one of us to be up when the other is down, and we can tell when it's our turn. All seven of our kids are upbeat, cheerful and confident: it's part of our heritage to see the glass as 3/4 full and find the good in every situation.

I know I was lucky to grow up in an atmosphere of optimism. My dad reminded me often that faith (in myself, and in God's willingness to help me) would achieve miracles. He taught me that faith and fear cannot coexist, and that fear, doubt and worry were to be banished. Although he had his personal fears, they were overcome by his faith. He took risks, thrived on challenge, and lived positively.

Dad taught himself to be this way; early struggles haunted him. He grew up poor. His beloved older brother was always sick, and died at 18. The strain sapped all the joy from his parents for years. One of dad's favorite stories was how excited he was the day the store repossessed all their furniture and the kids skated in their socks through the empty rooms. But he always remembered how his mom sat on the porch steps and cried as her lovely possessions were hauled away. Eventually they lost their home and had to move in with another family for a while during the depression.

Dad (in the glasses) and his brothers, about 1933.

Dad served in WWII and came home seriously ill. It took him three months in a hospital to recover. When he'd joined the army, he had neglected to officially drop out of the university. After the war he started school again with a whole semester of failed classes on his transcript. To qualify for Optometry school earned straight A's for three years to raise his GPA to the required level. Born with cataracts which impaired his vision most of his life, he decided life would be better if he viewed it through rose-colored glasses.

When I was seven Dad almost died of pneumonia. My mom prepared mustard plasters and tried to keep us quiet, while he laid in bed for weeks worrying about our future. That's when he first read the book Think and Grow Rich, by Napoleon Hill. Knowing my dad, I'm sure he was thinking in literal terms when he saw the title. But the concepts he learned made him wealthy in another way that became my most treasured inheritance. He discovered the secret of positive thinking.

Everybody who knew my dad remembers him preaching this good news. Assimilating it into his character was the goal of his lifetime. He changed his attitude and it changed his world.

Dad, at his best!

It is absolutely possible to learn optimism.
It's also possible to inherit it.
And from my viewpoint, it is positively essential to have it.

Sheri Dew said, "Ultimately we become what we give our hearts to. We are shaped by what we desire and seek after. Fifty years from now we shouldn't be too surprised at what we have become. Our desires are what motivate us and we become what we set our hearts on. Our face will reflect who we are."

The Great Stone Face, a story by Nathaniel Hawthorne, tells about a village overlooked by a massive stone cliff that resembled a man's face. An old legend said that "someone will be born hereabouts who will look just like the Great Stone Face, and he will be the noblest person of his time."

A little boy in the village named Ernest was especially attracted to the Old Stone Face. He studied it with boyish admiration while he walked to school each day, and saw intelligence and goodness as he wondered when the man would come.

A famous philanthropist came to town, and Ernest thought he might be the champion, since he was so generous, but he looked nothing like the stone face. Then an important politician visited and Ernest thought that surely this honorable leader was the hero. But he didn't bear a resemblance to the craggy mountain either.

Ernest watched the faces of returning soldiers and scholars for signs of the courage and wisdom seen in the face. Meanwhile, he worked hard on his farm and was respected by his neighbors for his honesty and decency.

Years passed and though Ernest became an old man, he never ceased to study the Old Stone Face. But no one ever came to the village bearing its image. One evening when he was sitting with a neighbor on the porch, the neighbor looked to the distant mountain and then fixed his gaze upon his old friend as he sat in his rocking chair. "Ernest," said the neighbor, "You are the Old Stone Face!"

Amy 1976

In youth our face reveals our genetics.

Someone at 60

With age we get the face we deserve.

Homework: Choose any or all, or be inspired.

~Think about an old person you love or admire. Write a detailed description of the character and experience reflected in their face. Use a thesaurus if necessary to find the most precise words. (Ideas: conviction, spunk, wit.) What do you hope to look like when you're old?

~List your five biggest worries. Now imagine how each could become a blessing in disguise.

~Has your attitude been changed by your experiences or has it been the other way around? Write a paragraph that starts: "My outlook is more_____than______ (insert lemon and lemonade.) I grew up in a house filled with______."


*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, link it back to TravelinOma. And please leave a comment here with a link to your blog as part of our class discussion. I'll be keeping track, and spot checking your work, giving points for participation. You can grade your own work, based on your individual progress. (A for Accomplishment, B for Basic Effort, C for Class Comments, D for thinking this post is Dumb, and F for Failure to Communicate.)

P.S. The class discussion yesterday was unbelievable! Thank you all for your input!

Slow Down

Illustration by Jane Dyer

♫ Slow down, you move too fast;

Got to make the mornin' last!
Just kickin' down the cobblestones,
Lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy. ♫
---Simon and Garfunkel

What happened to feelin' groovy? The world is spinning like a washing machine out of control, and I'm feelin' dizzy instead of groovy. And I don't think it's just me. This is what William Doherty, a family therapist, said recently:

"In a ratcheted up whirlwind childhood, children and teens are failing to benefit from social skills developed in unstructured, unsupervised experiences with siblings or peers--what used to be called going out to play. That is where a child has to find someone to be with, convince them to play, negotiate what to play, teach others how to play, help develop and enforce the rules, and decide when to stop."

When I was on active duty in my motherhood career, I didn't have time to go through training. Now, as a retired mom, I love measuring my real-life experience against current expertise. Dr. Doherty spoke on "Parenting Wisely in a Too-Much-of-Everything-World."

While studies have shown that extra-curricular activities have some positive impact on the academic, social and psychological development of a child, Dr. Doherty cited other studies that say an overload of such activities has a much greater negative impact.

He followed a family with three children through five hours after school, and saw how they managed to squeeze in a total of eight after-school activities as well as snacks, separate dinners, homework, and getting shuttled from practice to lesson to home. The parents were pleased that the children were involved and busy, but agreed that they sacrificed unstructured playtime, a relaxing family dinner hour together, and time for the kids to interact casually with family members. They viewed it as a good trade off for the opportunities they were providing.

Dr. Doherty reported that studies prove that a family meal time is a strong predictor of academic and psychological adjustment in children and teens. It is better than time in school, sports or cultural arts in helping to decrease future involvement in alcohol, drugs, promiscuity, depression and eating disorders. "Parents can work to limit scheduling and eliminate overloads, while training and teaching children with the end result in mind."

I wholeheartedly support this advice! But, I remember the good old days when I packed up my toddler and baby, and hauled them around the extended neighborhood for a few hours a day, picking up and dropping off their older siblings. We had after-school snacks in sacks, and drove from dancing to piano to ball practice to ball game to violin to guitar to scouts: round and round a three mile radius, all afternoon. I tried to limit extra-curriculars to one per kid, but everything overlapped. Sometimes when it came down to dropping piano to take up soccer, I was the one who insisted on continuing with both.

One spring we had three little leaguers on different teams, playing on different fields. Each one had two, two-hour games a week and two practices a week, and that schedule lasted for two months. We had dinner at the ball diamond almost every night, and still had to go home and factor in homework, baths and bedtime. I don't recall any squeaky clean, peaceful kids gathered in their jammies listening to me read "Little House on the Prairie" after a fun family dinner hour during that season!

S-L-O-W...D-o-w-n . . .!

I'm not scheduling a whole family anymore, but I still find that life is a balancing act. It's easy to tip from just right to way too much. And nobody wants to fall over into not enough. I think Simon and Garfunkel got it right. "Slow down. You move to fast."

My goal this spring is to catch my balance, kick some cobblestones
and find my inner groovy.

Do you have any tips on scheduling a family, keeping your own balance, deciding what's enough and what's too much? Any advice on saying "no" to kids, neighbors, friends and family who offer you more to do than you want to do? How do you slow down and actually enjoy the joy you know you're having?

Illustration by Jane Dyer

Dr. William J. Doherty, a family therapist, educator, researcher, and director of Marriage and Family Therapy at the University of Minnesota, spoke at BYU February 12, 2009.

New Ballgame

Pete, 1984

The election is only a few weeks away. I wrote about last season here.
We've got a whole new ballgame!

More Than Books

Although I've always loved books,
I realized I was illiterate.
Click here to read more...

Remember This One?

This is another fake post. It made me laugh all over again.

I Was Sick

It wasn't just the Hong Kong flu that made me sick.
It was losing the letters.

Postcard

Dee in Salzburg Shop,
March, 2008

Hope I'm not boaring you! We're still "across the pond" so I've set up links to a few of my old posts. Friends Through Time and Space is about a sweet aspect of blogging. I wrote this a couple of years ago, and it's even truer now.

Trip Plans

Cesky Krumlav, 2008

"I haven't been everywhere, but it's on my list."
Susan Sonntag

Planning a trip is almost as much fun as going on one.
I call it Tripping Out.

Opening Doors

Vienna Doors, 2008

Doors were opening for me in 1969, and at the same time I realized some people were living behind iron curtains. Budapest was one of those places.

Train Travel

Are you on the right track?
All Aboard is a post about losing my way.

Paris Souvenirs

We're searching for history on this trip.
Read a post about how we gather history.

Book Bag

Tabor, Czech Republic, 2008

Travel ideal: sitting in a cafe, watching a foreign world go by while reading a book that takes place in that very locale. Book It is a post I wrote with ways to find just the right book. You'll have to find the cafe.

Are You Listening?

Just saying hi! Click this link to hear a story we overheard!

Pack Your Bags

Paris, 1982

I'm on the road, but click here for a post I wrote about packing.

Traveling Shoes

Joseph Farrelly, 1926

The best time to get away is when you start looking like your passport picture!

I'm off to Europe for a couple of weeks. We're doing some research in France and Poland and I'll have a bunch of new stories and insights when I get back. In the meantime, I've scheduled some posts for the days I'm gone, with links from my olden days of blogging. (You might even see your old comments.) Since I didn't even recognize the posts, they'll probably seem new to you, too. Take care!

"A trip is what you take when you can't take any more of what you've been taking."
...Adeline Ainsworth

Check out Searching for Ghosts.

Once Upon a Time...

I had a story published today on the Elderstory Telling Blog. I love it when that happens!

Story Telling

My kids always used to ask me to tell them a story. Just about the time I'd perfected my story telling repertoire they stopped asking. And soon after that they started interrupting with "You told us that, mom." And then the eye rolling started and they informed me they could tell my stories in 25 words or less, with just a word or two for a clue.

So I started telling my stories to strangers in the check out line at the pharmacy, and just after their eyes rolled, they glazed over. (They must have been pretty sick.) My kids finally directed me towards blog land where I can tell my stories to my heart's content and I don't even feel it when I'm clicked off. Dave Letterman was introduced last night as "A man who is his own imaginary friend." Hmmm....is that a definition of my blog???

ANYWAY!! There's a wonderful storytelling place where people actually ASK for my stories! Then they are sent on to fabulously brilliant readers who appreciate them. I write my stories at 2:am so even my eyes are rolling and glazed over, but the people there don't make fun (to my face) and they can't even begin to tell my stories in 25-words-or-less. (I love these people...)

If you want to be one of the sought after storytellers, look at the rules to see if you qualify (when you click over to read my story today.)

Check out Ronni's Elder Story Telling Place for my newest published work! Thanks Ronni!
Send in your own. It's easy. Just read the instructions. (That glazed over look you get in the pharmacy line might not be because they're glaucoma patients.)

Featurette

I have a story on the Elder Storytelling Place.
Thanks to Ronni Bennett for featuring me!

Story Telling

One of my favorite daily reads is The Elderstorytelling Place, a blog featuring stories by Elder Bloggers (those of us over 50.) I'm flattered to be the author of the day!