Insane Mothers

It's tough when a parent has to wait for the learning curve to take root. I feel my foot tap tap tapping out the reprise: what is TAKING so long with the life lessons? Whatever happened to the good old days when you could just stuff them into color-coded Garanimals outfits and get them off to school?

I suppose when my brother and I were doing the broadjump, my mom tamped down her instinct to grab us by the scruff of the neck and shake us silly. From a parent's point of view, that requires some pretty fancy footwork. But even with the teenage speed-of-light immersion plan, the parental levee occasionally has a breach.

I once observed one of those when my mother chased my brother around the pool with a broom because he waited too long to clean the pool before her party and the filter backed up and nobody wanted to swim in water the color of skim milk. Another time a heated exchange -- which I'm SURE didn't involve my inflammatory tone -- resulted in a bag of granola being hurled in my direction. Unfortunately for mom, it fell short of its intended target and landed (and burst) in the open baby grand piano. I'll bet THAT took a while to suck up with a vacuum crevice tool.

WHAT?

I always figured this was subject specific parent insanity (SSPI). And then I became a mother and learned the truth: insane parents are made and not born. Swear! Contrary to popular opinion, mothers start out normal, they DO, as infinitely patient, optimistic, human nurturers, and over hundreds and thousands of interchanges with people-on-the-rise, they erode.

An angel gently nuzzling her newborn in a few short years becomes that shrew you see swinging a bat at the umpire at a little league game because little Johnny's ball SHOULD HAVE BEEN a home run. A 5'7" woman who needs help with the lawn mower can indeed lift a 6' seventeen year old boy off the ground when he is sneaking her daughter home at 4:00 AM. A mother with no money who loves her kid more than anything will figure a way to have his hunk of junk truck towed 100 miles to college if he dares her.

Now that I'm a 'seasoned' mother, I sit on my hands on the sidelines watching them make their own way, wondering if it's the steeper grade that makes the lessons harder or just the fact that each lesson carries more weight.

You bet they see me cheering their progress and learning lessons of my own as I master being a mother of grown ups. I'll be right with you guys, right after I lean a bit more into the curve.

Foxy Mama, Part I

There is a pretty little community in Longmont, Colorado, with nice folks and no sidewalks and a view of the lake. It's the kind of place where spacious yards spill from one to another and people show a refreshing pride of ownership.

And in this quiet little neighborhood, a pair of red foxes came to live. Red foxes are indigenous to most of the United States and live in wooded areas, prairies and farmland. They are known for their cunning and shy dispositions and their adaptability.

Soon after taking up residence, five pups were born. Since reds partner for life, Dad did most of the hunting in the first month while Mom tended the brood. These five little bundles of fluff and their folks eventually emerged to romp on the deck and in the front yard. The mother fox was seen sitting majestically on a large rock helping her mate keep a watchful eye.

AND THEN THERE WERE FOUR
The pups happily tumble bumbled in their impromptu den. About two months after arrival, there was alarm when the male and one of the pups turned up missing and the den was hurriedly abandoned. Had the entire family fallen prey, everyone wondered?

A couple of days passed when mother fox and two of the pups showed up under the front deck of my friends, Scott and Cathy. Close observation of the female showed her surveillance of a home across the street and it was surmised the remaining pups had been stowed there. Although it is common for red foxes to split their dens to protect the generation, this was now a single mother with four pups to raise and no help with the hunting and monitoring. Her choice of homes was well considered: one house had easy access to a wraparound porch with good views of the neighborhood and lake, and the other was nicely situated on a knoll thick with pines and protective underbrush.

Life played on over the next six weeks and my friends, who I can attest are the most considerate of hosts, paid attention to the habits of their new residents and made some significant adaptations on their behalf. Realizing the need for comfortable boundaries, my friends limited their use of the deck and front door, entering the house through the garage. They postponed big yard projects and planned routine outside maintenance during the middle of the day while the foxes slept. Occasionally, when temptation got the better of them, they crept quietly to the edge of the house and peered around the corner to see the goings-on. And in this way, a patient couple and a skittish family of foxes developed trust.

The more stable the environment became, the more visible they were at dusk and dawn. Mama fox was a good and attentive mother. One evening, they watched her teach her pups to hunt by bringing a live bird from across the street and laying it in the street. The pups swarmed forward and joyously fought one another for the prize. One wrestled it free and dashed under the deck with the others in hot pursuit.

She routinely traveled with the pups and moved them from den to den, for socialization as well as safety. They were obedient and smart, and in time she left them for extended periods of time. Their diet consisted of a balance of fruits, grasses, caterpillars and grasshoppers in addition to small live birds and rabbits, and the pups knew how to fend for themselves during her absence.

This little life drama did not escape notice. The fox family became the focus of the community. People on their evening stroll would bring their children on three wheelers and their dogs on leashes to linger at the corner and catch a glimpse of the fox family sitting side by side on Scott and Cathy's deck, as if lording over the neighborhood. The community delighted in them, embraced their presence, and watched the family grow and flourish. But things were about to change.

Part II to follow.

Has Beens

It seems like yesterday we tasted for the first time the sweet, spicy tang of possibilities as life swirled around and drew us in. We confidently drifted with the winds of change, falling to the mat bruised, only to rise again and take a more southwesterly route in our ascent. Life was boundless.

Direction was decided by opportunities and they were in great abundance. Obstacles were frequent, and expected, and met with an urgent willfulness fueled by purpose and optimism. Our canvas had broad strokes of crimson and periwinkle, sunny day yellows and starless black skies.

But gradually, gradually we became accustomed to the sweet nectar of stability. Our once limber and supple minds and bodies, the bold and daring explorers we were, transmuted softly into a more subtle patina of vanilla and rose, taupe and cinnamon. What began as a series of firsts became routines, and then patterns, and finally habits.

The raw fiber of our youth wove itself into family lore as we lost the resemblance. Pictures of us standing at the summit, proudly posing in cap and gown, smiling in front of our first home holding our first born, became historical footprints, faded now but for their impact.

But wait. I feel them churning within, those experiences and feelings. I still taste the salt in my mouth from sweat equity, feel the soft kiss from my first love. In present time they exude intensity and wisdom, humor and strength, eye twinkles and reverent prayers.

Family and faith stand strong and true. The shelter of my life holds those memories thick and dense, decorated with love and success earned the hard way. I am the conservator of the continuity link, feel keenly the need to protect what I know can slip away. Let us linger together as long as we can.

Fast Food

I was thinking about all these flourishing online dating services. Why is it so hard to meet people out in the wild? Where are all the rich environments for cultivating a date, where we meet at a friend-of-a-friend's barbecue and hit it off? I rarely hear stories like that anymore. EVERYBODY seems to be online.

I'm dating a guy who is quick-witted and kind, successful in life in the ways that count, with good values and heaps of integrity. He's a good man. I think this is online dating at its best, when people gather because social and work environments are a bit stale. Slow and steady, this turtle has it down.

Online meeting is most bleak when it resembles fast food: enticing, quick, plentiful and instantly gratifying. We don't really know what's inside but are pretty sure it's bad as a steady diet. I'm not saying it isn't tasty: I'm saying we're better off if we nibble rather than gulp.

Fast food circumvents our body's natural systems that are designed to earn the nourishment. Healthy natural foods let the sugars and carbs trickle into our system rather than overwhelm us and wreak havoc, as over-processed food can do.

So, too, with online dating. There's an endless supply of people flooding the market, selecting erroneous criteria as a weedblock to relationships. There is no social responsibility here: that has been replaced by an expectation that things should be easy and convenient. If it's a challenge, just go to the next one on the list, is that how it is? How can we learn the valuable lessons of hard work and balance, things that we'll need to develop and maintain physically, spiritually and emotionally healthy relationships?

Aren't those who insist on 'no baggage' really just saying they are unwilling to put in the effort? Who'd want to toss in with someone like that? I've got news for you: Taking on someone new means you're going to have to find room to stow their gear -- because everybody's toting a full luggage cart.

And what about those folks who don't want to chat with someone who indicates they are looking for 'friends'. Are they mad? Friendship is the GO space on the Monopoly board: you aren't going places without it.

The natural selection process has been in place for millions of years where we use all five of our physical senses (plus a couple internal ones) because there's no way to know ahead of time what we're looking for. If onliners are sorting by height, ethnicity and income to save time, they might very well may leave a hand-to-glove partner lying dormant because they can't imagine big enough.