WordSisters

Author: Ellen Shriner

  • My Youngest Is Graduating (And So Am I)

    It’s official. No more tuition payments, no more school bureaucracies. My youngest son is graduating from college. My husband and I are so proud of him. He’s become a man who’s responsible and self-sufficient as well as creative and fun-loving. His college graduation marks the end of an era for all of us.

    me & Greg

    As he goes forward to meet his future, I will step back from active mothering.

    Admittedly, he hasn’t needed much day-to-day mothering lately. I haven’t made his lunches, checked his homework, done his laundry, driven him to soccer, or nursed him through strep throat in a long while. He’s been living with friends for the past few years, so my role was already limited.

    But mothering is so much more than physical caretaking. When he moved out, I shared his excitement about setting up his own kitchen. He and I have always loved to cook, so I knew how much it mattered to him to make the space his own.

    Although I was secretly worried about having him so far away, I encouraged him to study in Spain, because I knew how much he would learn—about other cultures and about himself. When we visited Sevilla and saw that he was thriving, I was glad I had set aside my concerns.

    As he began focusing on possible careers, we talked about what kinds of work would be satisfying and what would allow him to make the most of his abilities. I urged him to research his career paths thoroughly so he would know what he was getting into.

    Now he’s launched. That was always the goal, but still, it feels odd to be at this juncture.

    I’ll miss his school concerts, games, and the conversations we had as he discussed his ideas for term papers. Not being needed in those classic ways is bittersweet. He still needs my love and support, but not my supervision or protection. Now our interactions can be those of adults who enjoy many of the same things. He may ask for our advice occasionally, but he doesn’t have to. That’s as it should be.

    When he went off to college, my husband and I started back down the path toward coupledom—cooking meals for two and making plans without considering our sons’ schedules. It’s been fun.

    As I go forward to meet my new life, I can’t help looking back over my shoulder at what I’m leaving behind.

    Mike &Greg
    Mike, B.A. in Economics and Political Science 2011 Greg, B.A. in Psychology 2014

    I enjoyed raising him and his older brother, so although I’m proud of them, I’m also a little sad to see the official end of this phase. I expect I’ll also enjoy what comes next—living in the carefree space between childrearing and grandparenting. Our time is our own. We can be spontaneous again.

  • Mother’s Wisdom

    My niece recently had her first baby, and as we talked about taking care of a newborn, I was reminded of several huge insights I had when I was a new mother.

    1. Learning how to be a mother is harder than it looks. I’d been warned about the messiness of motherhood—babies spit up and diapers leak, but I was pretty surprised by what my body was undergoing as it made the transition from baby on the inside to baby on the outside.

    People also told me about the intensity of taking care of a newborn, but I really couldn’t comprehend what that meant until I experienced it. The unpredictability was hard—we might have a calm day followed by a crazy day when nothing seemed to work.

    I recall thinking, “I’m this child’s mother. I’ve tried everything the books said—feeding, burping, changing, rocking, singing, swinging, walking, and he’s still crying. Shouldn’t I just know what to do?” Umm, no. Most new mothers don’t have secret instinctive wisdom, but fortunately, we figure out what to do after a while.

    Realizing I was not in charge—the baby was—took a while to sink in. Once I accepted that, life got easier.

    2. My Mom is a genius. When I became a mother, I gained newfound respect for her. She knew so much—from how to soothe my son who hated to be undressed to how to keep from freaking out when both kids were crying.

    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOver the years my respect for my mother grew. I finally understood how much effort it takes to prepare good meals night after night—planning, shopping, and cooking—whether she felt like it or not.

    I learned how hard it is to stay on top of all the details: getting school supplies and baseball gear, signing permission slips and carpooling, making sure schoolwork and chores get done.

    I discovered the pains she went to make our birthdays special—tracking down cool gifts and staying up late making a cake and wrapping gifts.

    Although my three siblings and I have different personalities, Mom managed each of us with wisdom and a light touch. One brother loved science and engineering but disliked authority. The other loved sports, parties and math (in that order). My sister loved pretty things and just wanted everyone to be happy, while I was shy, sensitive, and fiercely independent by turns. I marvel at how rarely she lost her temper when she dealt with my stubborn teenage self.

    Even with four kids Mom was always so sane and so nice. Although I can’t claim that, I do share her view that mothering is the hardest but most rewarding thing I do. I hope my niece makes the same discovery.

  • Celebrating the Gift of American Citizenship

    Sometimes I get discouraged about trends in American culture and politics. But recently, I was privileged to be a part of a U.S. citizenship celebration that pierced my cynical armor and helped me remember that it is good to be an American.

    Arwa, a middle-aged Jordanian immigrant, brought a feast to the adult English language learners’ (ELL) class where I tutor. She had just passed her American citizenship test, and she wanted to celebrate with her classmates and teachers.Screen Shot 2014-04-17 at 10.53.18 AM

    Learning English is hard. Every time students open their mouths, they’re likely to mispronounce a word, mix up the tense of a verb (I has a cold), mangle an idiomatic expression (We make party for my son), or be misunderstood because their accents are so heavy. They’re subject to constant corrections. To succeed, students have to be thick-skinned and persistent.

    Steve, who teaches the class where I volunteer, sets a supportive tone. He leads the students in cheering and clapping for each other. They understand each other’s embarrassment, so they are encouraging and kind—no mocking.

    We are teaching American culture as well as language, so we try to foster acceptance of other people’s customs, too. Steve sets up teams so African, Central American, Asian, Middle Eastern and Eastern European students must interact with each other and take part in playful competitions.

    So when Arwa passed her citizenship test, it was natural for her to celebrate with her classmates. The other students know how hard it is to persist. Everyone is far from home and misses their family, their food and customs from home, and the ready access to people who understand their worldview. They understand what it means to let go of allegiance to a homeland and embrace a new country.

    Sharing food is the language we all understand, so Arwa brought chicken shawarma, homemade hummus, lemon yogurt from scratch, little buns with a Middle Eastern version of pesto, salad, brown bread, and banana chocolate chip bread. She also had chunks of ham, salami and bologna as well corn chips, snack crackers, flour tortillas and soda.

    I worried briefly about how her classmates would respond to the food. Some eat meat, some don’t. Some eat pork, some don’t. The only hiccup was that we didn’t have forks. I watched Arwa spoon yogurt onto the bread so I put a dollop of yogurt onto a piece of tortilla. Soon the other students caught on and did the same. The North Africans (from Liberia, Somalia, Kenya, Egypt) recognized and relished the food. The Thai and Hmong students sampled more carefully, but were complimentary. The Hispanic students (from Mexico, Cuba, and Ecuador) spooned food into the tortillas and rolled them up. Everyone complimented Arwa on the food and thanked her. We all clapped and cheered for her because she is a citizen now.

    Throughout the spontaneous party, Arwa beamed. She is so proud to be an American citizen. I don’t know whether economic opportunity, war, love, or religious freedom (Islam is the majority religion in Jordan and she wears a necklace with a silver cross) brought her here with her husband and two children. It’s not the sort of thing we ask about in class.

    One time I helped her study for the citizenship test. I’m sure many native-born Americans would struggle with the test, and at times, I wasn’t always sure of the answers. She told me that she’d been studying for three years—that’s almost enough for a college degree. How many native-born Americans would work that hard to belong here?

    Arwa is so pleased and grateful to be an American. Perhaps she values it more because she worked to hard to achieve it. In the face of her accomplishment and pride, my cynicism about America’s shortcomings fell away, and my faith in the American dream was renewed.