Parents, enjoy the turmoil

I had an epiphany while walking my dog. I passed by my neighbor’s

house just as her daughter was getting picked up by a carpool. “Bye,

Mom. Love you,” she yelled as she got into the car. This may not

sound like much in the retelling, but to me it was huge.

For years now, I’ve been aware that when I talk about my daughters

in a certain way, tears flood my eyes. This wouldn’t necessarily be a

problem -- I don’t mind crying -- but it seems to happen for no

reason, and I haven’t understood, until now, what it’s about.

Some background. I have three daughters, all born in the 1970s. I

was a stay-at-home mom at a time when the National Organization for

Women was just coming to the forefront. NOW espoused rhetoric about

how women were wasting their educations by being full-time mothers

and atrophying their minds by not putting them to good use through

productive employment. There were consciousness-raising groups so

that women could support one another in making this gigantic shift

happen.

I had a good friend who was very into this. She lamented the

tedium and thanklessness of, for example, doing laundry that just

needed to be done again in a few days. I gave lip service to this

dogma -- after all, how much of a Stepford wife was I willing to look

like? -- but in my heart of hearts, I didn’t understand what all the

fuss was about. I was doing what I wanted, in the way I wanted,

caring for and spending my time with the people I loved best. What

could be wrong about that?

But I wondered about the notion of quality time that NOW espoused.

What do you mean it’s more meaningful to spend 15 minutes of good

time -- wholly paying attention -- with your children than to simply

be there with them all the time? This worried me. There was no way I

was giving them my undivided attention all day long.

That was then, and this is now. Now I know that meaningfulness and

connection cannot be orchestrated. It occurs in odd moments, in its

own time frame, and a parent just has to be there to catch it when it

happens. The notion of quality time was just a novel idea put forth

to assuage women’s feelings of guilt at abandoning their children to

go to work.

It is now many years later. I’m long divorced, and my kids are

grown. They left the nest, though I can clearly remember a time when

I never thought they would. My oldest was 12, and her sisters were 9

and 4. I’d just finished putting the younger two to bed -- a marathon

event -- and plopped down on the couch exhausted, when my

12-year-old, who was still up (always still up, it seemed) began to

clamor for my attention. In that moment, I felt sure that my children

were different; they would never grow up and leave me.

But the old cliche rings true. Now that they finally are gone, I

find myself wondering how it all went by so fast. Where did the years

go?

All of this was crystallized for me when I overheard my neighbor’s

daughter yelling, “Bye Mom. Love you.”

It brought up just how much I miss those little bodies -- the

laughter and tears, the unexpected outpouring of hugs and kisses, the

love that permeated even the times when I wanted to wring their

necks.

And although what has come next has been exciting, fulfilling and

wonderful in its own way, when I am truly old (even older than now),

I think what I will look back on with the most fondness and the

fullest heart is the time when I was a mom with kids at home.

When I see couples with young families in my therapy practice,

when both parents are stretched to the max, when enough sleep is a

rare commodity, I smile to myself, remembering how wonderful it was

and just how hard it was.

And it brings home anew, corroborated by my own experience, what a

huge toll raising children can take on the marital relationship --

even if, at the same time, it’s the glue that binds the parents

together. Too many marriages cannot survive this

And so I say wholeheartedly to all moms and dads with young

children: Take time for yourselves. Take care of each other, for

yours is the relationship that holds all of this together. See past

the endless tasks, the constant commotion, the incessant litany of “I

need” and “I want.” Recognize that this is just for a long moment,

and then it, too, will be gone. See, appreciate and be grateful for

this chance to love.

I don’t know of anything better.

* MAXINE COHEN is a Corona del Mar resident and a marriage and

family therapist practicing in Newport Beach. She can be reached at

maxinecohen@adelphia.net or at (949) 644-6435.