"I Wanted So Much More For You..."

It's a timeless cri de coeur from parents, coaches and mentors.
A true cry from the heart, from someone who sees talent in another person, and tries their best to nurture and develop that talent...only to have the object of their efforts say,

"No thanks.  That's your dream, not mine."

Those words feel like a gut-punch,
but the truth is...

Do I want to help someone reach their goals? 
Or do I want to help them reach my goals for them?
Should I drop my support and "move on", if the person
isn't sufficiently impressed with my clear grasp of what they "should" do?

I mean...we had a plan, an agreement.
Or did we?

Maybe it was just a temporary convergence of goals.
It's difficult not to interpret this as a betrayal of sorts, and to respond with anger.

"After all I've done for you..."

("...to help you reach the goals I had for you.")

Several years ago, when I was still a school psychologist,
I had a special-education evaluation/eligibility case that dragged
out over the course of two years.

The presenting concern from the parents was their daughter
expending what they saw as extraordinary effort, to get all As
in her middle school classes.

They wanted special education accommodations for their daughter.
Possibly she had a reading disorder.  Possibly she took longer than
usual to get her thoughts on paper.  Possibly not.  But...they wanted
the process of getting straight As to be easier for their daughter. 

The parents were adamant this level of performance was crucial to getting
into a private high school, and then into a specific college, five or six years
down the road. 

To make that happen, they wanted to have their daughter labeled "disabled."

I was furious.
The daughter made it abundantly clear how she felt about being evaluated by me.
I strongly suspected that she was coached by her parents to underperform on
certain portions of the evaluation. 

I declared test after test invalid, because the low scores didn't match the high
classroom performance.  The parents hated me for not helping their dreams
come true, the daughter hated me for repeatedly taking her out of class and
the administration hated me for not kow-towing to the parents.

I very clearly remember the meeting in which I turned to the father of this
straight-A student, and asked him:

"Does [name] know how disappointed you are in her?"

Silence.

I took that as a "yes."

I also taught little ones how to ice skate for a number of years.
Most of the children wanted to be there.  A few didn't.

A few of those who really didn't want to learn to skate arrived
completely togged out in hockey gear, to the point where they
lay on the ice like upside-down turtles when they fell,
encumbered by all the unnecessary gear.

And their wee hockey skates had only an inch or two of blade on the ice.
The fathers of these over-dressed, under-enthused little guys often
hovered at the door onto the ice, encouraging, or even attempting to coach.

I could see it in their eyes...maybe, just maybe, their dream of hockey stardom
would be realized after all.

And that's just parenting!

What about the advisee or mentee who doesn't want
to rise to the mentor's level?

Or simply wants to take another path?

It's terribly difficult to take a deep breath,
let go of one's own goals, dreams and expectations,
and say,
"If that's what you want to do...I'm here to help."

It's terribly difficult, AND a true measure of devotion.

What a wonderful affirmation, to hear, 
"I respect your goals and your dreams,"

WITHOUT also hearing, "But I wanted so much more for you..."

Thinning The Herd

No, this isn't about cleaning out the closets and looking at my shoe collection with a jaundiced eye.
(Ten pairs of black shoes still seems legit).

This is about a more difficult exercise:  Thinning the things that define me.

For many, many years, I've urged anyone who will listen, to not put all their "identity eggs" in one basket.  This following an extremely unfortunate period during college, when I found my self-described identity as "good student" challenged for the first time, with nothing else to fall back on.

And so, I say to the children, do many things (even if they're not all done to perfection).  Think of yourself many ways.  Don't have just one gig, one facet, one identity.

That said, no one can be or do everything forever  Time or circumstances "thin the herd" (a death that terminates care-giving, a job-loss, etc) regardless of personal preference, and one must decide how to manage those changed circumstances.

"Who am I?  What do I do?  How do I make an impression on my little corner of the world?"

That's a tough one. 
I've been many things, most of which get the social stamp of approval. I've either set aside voluntarily or been released from many of them, and what's left is pretty thin.
 
In fact, I think "stay-at-home mom" is the most accurate description, at the moment. 
It doesn't roll easily off the tongue, but right now, that's my biggest contribution to The Greater Good. 

There's a quote...something like "Sometimes you have to give up something good, to make room for something great."

Awesomesauce!  I've given up lots of good things!

But...there's no guarantee "something great" is around the corner, or even down the road at all.

And if there isn't, can a smaller definition of "Who am I? What do I do?" be enough  to make an impression on my little corner of the world?

I hope so.
I think so. 
At the very least, I've made plenty of room for something great...should it come along!
 
And if it doesn't, I'm pretty sure I can still change my little corner. 

Time to get to work.
 

Grace

A month or so ago, I was talking with a family member, one generation up, who was helping a friend pack up and move.  The friend had lost her job, had no family to help her, and was receiving government assistance to put food on her table.  She was packing up and moving across the country, where a new job awaited.

But...
In the middle of all this packing,  "Grace" had a nail appointment.
My relative was horrified.

"She can't pay the rent, and she's getting her nails done?!?"

This family member was born during the Depression.  She remembers the frugal times of World War II.  She prides herself on never (as in never, ever) "needing" help, especially financial help, from anyone.  She's set the bar for judging others equally high.

Clearly, "Grace" fell short.

To be honest, I would have joined this relative in sniffing and "tut-tutting" (even as I helped the less fortunate) in the not-to-distant past.  After all, we bring our circumstances on ourselves, right?  All failings are personal failings in the end, right?   Joy ain't free...you gotta work for it.  No obvious, positive contribution to society...no happiness for you.

Here’s what I said:
“I get it.  If Grace needs $550 for the rent right now, and she doesn’t have $550, or even $450, but she DOES have $25, why shouldn’t she get her nails done?  That $25 isn’t going to make any difference in the time frame she needs it, and if having her nails done is a little pick-me-up during this hard time, why not?”

Pause

“I never thought of it that way.”

Here’s the thing.
I'm not pulling in a steady income at the moment. 
Decisions have to be made.
Big purchases have to wait.
It’s impossible for me not to beat myself up and say "This is my fault."
It’s also hard to shake the feeling I “shouldn’t” be happy…at all...in my current situation.  After all, I brought this on myself and my family, right?

So, I understand Grace in a way I would not have, just a few years ago. 

I understand grace better too.

When the children forget, again, to clean up after themselves; well…I’ve done that too.  I’ve also been late, lost things, not been prepared, not finished what I’ve started, done things the “wrong” way or made more work for other people.

Just like they do.

I can’t completely stop the thought “I’m going to scream” when a ski jacket is missing AGAIN (Really?  In the winter?  Did you not notice you were cold?),  but I’m getting better at replacing that thought with remembering something similar I’ve done…

…when I’ve made an honest mistake, and hoped for a little grace.

As the children get older, they’ll make decisions I don’t agree with.  They’ll do things we didn’t raise them to do.  They’ll get into messes, and hope for a little grace.

Someday, my relative will need a little grace too.  I expect it’ll be an anguishing moment for her, realizing that all the striving to be ONLY a dispenser of largess…and never a receiver…must ultimately fail.

Everyone needs a little grace.
Everyone needs a simple “It’s ok.”

Stepping Up

I've written about this before,

how in Life...

...the most difficult thing is always the most difficult thing.

As a baby, the first difficult thing was rolling over, then sitting up, crawling, walking, etc, etc.

Also known as “developmental milestones.”
No one treated these skills as choices.

Unfortunately, no one remembers these very early "Bring it on"

driven-to-succeed moments.

And, with age, it just gets easier and easier to opt out of challenges. 

There's a lot less "Bring it on" and a lot more "I've never done that before, so...no."

Sometimes, the task or skill itself isn’t objectively all that difficult, but the “conditions” aren't right, so…not today.

(I hear this from the children, regarding long-term homework projects and piano practice).

So, is there ANY value, as an adult, to stepping up to a challenge?

Taking on the new skill or responsibility?  Or even (gasp) performing?

I believe there IS value in stepping up, for two reasons:

First, as already mentioned, the hardest thing is always the hardest thing. 

Taking on challenges has the often-overlooked, salubrious (your word for the day) effect of making other skills, challenges or situations less intimidating by comparison. 

That’s pretty cool: 

Mastering a difficult challenge actually makes other things feel easier.

Second, stepping up to a challenge, no matter the outcome, is a HUGE ego boost (in a good way).  “I did that!  I’ll bet I can do other things!”
Or, at worst, “I tried my best.   I’m a brave person!”

I’m not saying that kicking “the most difficult thing” up a notch
isn’t…difficult.  It takes high-level mental strength and intestinal fortitude to
say “Yes” to something new.

But when you do that…even once, you become a person who can step up.
That’s pretty powerful.   

Cold, Wet & Hungry

"Life is like chess," I keep telling my children.
"You make your best move, then it's the other person's turn.  You can HOPE they'll make a certain move, but you can't control it.  It's totally their move."

It's not something they've embraced...yet.

Which is how the oldest went off to classes-in-multiple buildings clad in T-shirt, pants, socks and shoes, with a cold drizzle and high wind for company.

He had come downstairs in the morning, ostensibly to get ready for the day, only to lay down on the sofa in the darkened family room.  (At least he was closer to where he needed to make his lunch). 
Being his mom, I tossed a blanket over him.

An hour later, when it was time to leave for school, minus breakfast, minus lunch, minus money to buy lunch, minus coat, shoes and socks in hand...the blanket was the problem.

Number One Son had been unable to resist getting re-cozied and falling back asleep.
If only mom hadn't put the blanket over him!

He made his move:  laying down.
I made my move:  covering him up.
He made his move:  not getting back up.
I made my move:  taxi's leaving.

Both children are self-taught lawyers, and pretty good at it, dropping "It wasn't my fault" into the middle of almost any behavioral correction, still believing (or perhaps fervently hoping), that simple excuse cancels out any expectations.

And...because they're advanced self-taught lawyers, countering with "Doesn't matter, the final responsibility is still yours" only leads to black-and-white parsing of all possible extenuating circumstances:

"So, you're saying if you're in an accident that's no excuse for being late."
"So, if the printer isn't working in the morning, you're saying I should get dinged for a late paper."
And...ripped from yesterday's headlines:
"It's not my fault I'm late...(friend's dad) wanted to stop and get something to eat."
"Did you tell him you had to be home right away?"
"No, he said he was hungry."

I worry about this, because I know "I just couldn't, because..." can be a Way of Life. 
I've seen it happen.  Not only do I dread conversations with these people,
I'm convinced their lives are smaller than they need to be.
Life makes its move, they make theirs...or not.

Life (and the people in it) really is a master chess player.
Crazy moves come out of nowhere.

But,

To paraphrase Dean Wormer,
"Cold, wet and hungry is no way to go through life, son."