Relationships

What Doesn’t Kill You…

Jeanna G1 Comment

When I was little, I loved having the attention of my older brothers. They’re 11 and 12 years older, so they had many other interests aside from playtime with their baby sister. Needless to say, whenever I got their attention, I was up for anything…and I mean anything. 

A common activity was being timed on how fast I could do things for them. “Go get me a soda! I’ll time you!”

Or when we’d play hide and seek and they’d stuff me under the couch cushions and sit on me and act like they didn’t know where I was. 

Then there was that time Jon tore up the neighbor’s yard on his dirt bike while I was riding piggyback. 

Or that time they both got tired of babysitting, so they threw me in the backseat of the car for a joyride. They pulled so many donuts in a cul-de-sac that I’m still unable to get on carnival rides. 

But my favorite activity was playing Monster with Joe. The story line was always that he was the Monster, like as in Frankenstein’s, and someone was always trying to take away his Dolly (yours truly), so he had to keep me away from the bad guys. He’d whip me around in circles by one arm and then let go. I’d fly and roll across the yard and then run back for more. 

Now I know what you must be thinking… You wish you had brothers like mine, don’t you? 

The Butterfly Effect of Parenting

Jeanna G3 Comments

You’re pondering life with friends, and someone asks, “If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be?” Does something immediately come to mind? Do you wonder if it has to be just one thing, or do you come up empty? Or, are you so happy with how your life has turned out, that you don’t want to change anything and risk losing what you have today?

Do you think one change of the past could have a huge, life-altering impact? What if you could go back and change things, and your life today would stay the same, but you wouldn’t have the memory of what you changed? Would the absence of the memory alter how you go about your day-to-day, how you feel about yourself, or how you interact with others? 

I like to think I’m special because my middle school-aged daughter still tells me what’s on her mind, about her crushes and dilemmas with friends, and asks my advice. But that got me wondering, how many of her seemingly mundane, inconsequential decisions – that I’m influencing – will actually have a huge impact on where and how she’s living life 30 years from now? Are any of the decisions she’s making today going to be the ones she rues? That’s a lot of responsibility!

As a parent, I know that I have the very serious and scary job of influencing a lot of her decisions, with both my words and actions. I think the hardest part is discerning when to take the wheel, and when to take a back seat. I hope I always have the choice, because I know it’s ultimately up to her to either hear me out or tune me out. All I really know today is that, 30 years from now, if I’m asked what I would change, I don’t want to be wishing I had been a better parent. 

Turn On Your Listening Ears

Jeanna G1 Comment

I did a lot of listening today. Which, if you know me, is no small feat.

I didn’t know that my day would involve so much listening. In fact, I didn’t think I’d have much human contact at all, based on my assigned tasks for the day. But I encountered 9 different humans, in 9 different places, and without prompt, they began telling me stories. And none of the plots were light; they all posed a question or concern to consider, even though some weren’t expressed out loud.

By the end of the day, I felt like Lucy van Pelt sitting at her psychiatric booth listening to Charlie Brown and the gang. Her advice wasn’t usually good, but her peers sat and talked to her anyway, I’m guessing because she was simply there.

My friends will agree, I’m not a good listener, but yesterday my antenna must have been receiving a clear signal from my kindergarten teacher. The message: Turn on your listening ears. So I did. And it felt good to be present and to be trusted. And I hope they felt good to be heard. Maybe Fulghum is right, and all we really do need to know was taught in Kindergarten!