Ultimately, what is causing the friction, the tension, and the power struggle is MY inability to give up controlling every single aspect of their lives.    Just in the last six months our relationship has gone from my being in charge of them completely, to my being a mom who is there to help them navigate their own way from here on out.    Last week, I could not just be a “helper.”  I was holding lord over them, desperately clinging to my “Captain” role.  This is my ship!  I am in charge!  You will do as you are told!  It is my way or the highway!  You will defer to me!  Yup, pretty much trying to play God and have them surrender themselves and their will to ME.

Self-righteous and controlling are two words that now come to mind.  Therapy is another one.  How much future therapy have I caused them in the past seven days?  Enough to warrant a therapy scholarship?  Ah, if only there were such a thing, I would apply not only for them, but for myself as well.

But the best therapy is for me to realize that while they are still dependant upon me as I will always be their mom and hopefully always one of their “go to” people, they must now also find and depend upon own their own source, their own voice.   Prior to this moment in time, I was their captain – their voice, protector, guide, and cheerleader.  The one who kept them on the straight and narrow path.   Now, today, my role has shifted.  I am here to guide them as they find their own voice, a voice they can become dependent upon.   They will make their own mistakes.  I can’t stop them.  They will have their own experiences.  I can’t control them.   I have to let go, a little bit more each day, so that one day they can stand on their own as the bright, compassionate, wonderful young men that they are becoming.

So in this moment, I choose to shift my focus.  I will no longer look at them and see the past or literally fight with them to keep the past in the present.  I will not look at this as a loss.  Yes, I will grieve the babies and the life that we have lived for the last 13 years.  But I will grieve it privately, and quickly, so that I may move into the joy as I look forward toward the possibilities before them.  The possibilities of who they are becoming.  Who they are becoming because I was their Captain.  Who they will become because I am now just a guide.

Ah, to be 10 again!

The number that follows nine.

The first two-digit number.

The highest score possible in Olympic competitions.

The base of our decimal system.

The number of years in a decade.

The sum of the first four numbers 1 + 2 + 3 + 4

The number of digits on both hands.

The number of digits on both feet.

The number of Commandments in the Bible.

The number of violin sonatas composed by Beethoven

The most common jersey number in soccer for attacking midfielders

The number of cents in a dime.

The number that is one tenth of a dollar.

5,479 adult internet users experience internet fraud A DAY.

9% of identity theft information is obtained online.

“The emotional impact of internet identity fraud has been found to parallel that of victims of violent crime.” – EMM*

Do you use the same log in for every site you go to?  Evidently, this is not a good idea.  You “should” have a different pass code for each site.  As someone who does, I can tell you that it is a nightmare, and I can never leave my “secret” log in code box behind if I hope to be able to navigate the mess that I have created with different pass codes.  Try being out of town and desperately needing to log in to, oh, I don’t know, your blog’s control panel, and not being able to because you can’t remember what arrangement of your various codes you created to protect yourself.  Sadly, I protected myself from myself.  There must be a happy middle code place.

Do you use upper and lower case and a number in your pass code?

As I tell my kids, “If you have to LOG IN you MUST LOG OFF.”  Their computers are full of viruses.  Do you think they listened?

Speaking of viruses, use anti-virus spyware like Norton or Kapersky if you are PC.  If you are a Mac, bravo!  Move on to the next bit of info.

Forward suspect spam to the company that seemingly sent it.  For example, if you get a Bank of America notice to fill out personal information to verify your account, DON’T DO IT!  Go to bofa.com and send them a copy of the email.  Send it to spam@uce.gov as well.

This conversation with your kids does not need to be uncomfortable.  There is no need to demonstrate how to put anything on, so sit down today and talk about how they can protect themselves and your family from the dangers of the internet.  Identity fraud is just the tip of this iceberg.  Make sure you address porn and chat rooms and facebook and my space, as well.  It will make the password conversation seem to be exactly what it is, elementary, my dear.

Practice Safe Surfing!

*statistics from week 9 of Every Monday Matters.

”Be Yourself. Everyone Else Is Taken.”

Most conversations around food that I hear or take part in involve eating too much and gaining weight.  Or how to eat less and lose weight.  Or why is it we can’t walk past the cookie jar/table/fridge/pantry without grabbing a snack?

I don’t believe I have EVER been involved in a conversation with someone who has actually GONE HUNGRY because there is no other option.  Here are some staggering statistics that may make you rethink your own obsession with food:

35.1 million AMERICANS – 12.4 million of those are CHILDREN* – have limited access to food because they can’t afford it.

1 in 4 of those who are standing in line at a soup kitchen waiting in line and hoping for food is a CHILD.*

Share the abundance that you take for granted every day.  No, not the “fat” abundance that you obsess on every day, but the abundance of your time, money and access to food.   Perhaps, finally, your relationship to food will morph into that which it is meant to be – one of nourishment.

For information on how to Dontate, Volunteer or Advocate to Feed America:  http://feedingamerica.org/

*statistics from the book, Every Monday Matters.

This exchange was so long ago, I sadly can’t quite recall the year.  But now, at ages thirteen and nearly eleven, both my sons and I always recite this conversational ritual at bedtime, sometimes recite it in the mornings as they scurry out of the car to school, and occasionally recite it anytime we are going to be apart from one other.

This is my favorite and most comforting ritual.  A ritual we created together, which slowly repeated itself until it was ingrained in our daily routine.  On the rare occasion that it slips my mind and I only respond with an “I love you” back, Kendall and Kamden inundate me with “I love you” until it clicks in my head, “Oh yeah, our ritual!” and “I gave birth to you” eventually comes pouring out, followed by “That’s why I love you more” giggles and hugs and kisses.  Yes, even at 13 and 11, with voices dropped and dropping, the beginning of mustaches and the end of lollygagging in my lap, I am comforted that I will always have this.   That we will always share this intimate, quiet, affirming ritual that started when they were little boys, just babies really, and continues as they become young men.