Sister, Sister

A few weeks ago I had just about had it with my life.

Not that my life is all that bad - it really isn't. But I do have a twenty-year old son and two teenage daughters and sometimes they just wear me out. Not physically anymore, not like when they were little and I spent three quarters of the day with one or the other of them in my arms or on my lap. I never will understand why I didn't develop more upper body strength back then.

Now the toll they take on me is more emotional. They are at a point in their lives when they are pushing against the chrysallis and getting ready to emerge as butterflies (my son probably wouldn't appreciate that analogy but, as he likes to say, oh well). For some reason part of the chrysallis breakdown requires an almost complete lack of patience with anything parents do or say. Even when we think we've done good it turns out we haven't. Even when we think we've said something fairly intelligent or at least mild enough not to provoke a rebuke we're wrong.

I remember the conversation that drove me over the edge. Our family likes to watch American Idol together and it was just after the two weeks during which the contestants had performed songs by John Lennon and Paul McCartney. I commented at dinner that one of the things I liked about AI is that it introduces the kids to music they might not otherwise hear or appreciate, like the Beatles.

I expected a couple of nodding heads, at least, and maybe even an acknowledgement that some of the music of yesteryear was great. Instead, I received the usual looks that I realize now mean they are thinking about how they can disagree with my statement. Finally Emily said she likes it better when they perform contemporary songs on AI and Elizabeth said she had downloaded Beatles music to her Ipod long before the AI performances.

I'll admit I finished dinner in a sulk and wasn't the most chipper and cheerful mom that night. It is wearying living with teenagers, those creatures who always have to be right and, more importantly, show you that you're not. I needed a break and I knew just who to call.

My sister Deb lives about an hour and a quarter from me, just the perfect distance for a Saturday afternoon shopping trip. The next morning I called her and, after a few minutes of venting asked if she could get her husband to watch the kids on Saturday and have a Mom's Day Out. Since Deb's daughters (she has three) range in age from nine to three and therefore are a combination of physically and emotionally demanding, she was more than willing. More importantly, Steve was willing to play Mr. Mom. So Saturday afternoon found us meeting in the parking lot of a shopping plaza with nothing to do but shop, talk and eat.

The details of that afternoon are unimportant - suffice it to say we looked at some things, bought very little and talked incessantly. The luxury of uninterrupted conversation never goes unappreciated by a mom and we took full advantage of every minute available. We ran out of shopping long before we ran out of stories to tell and laughs to share so we made our way over to the Macaroni Grill around 4:30 before the Saturday evening rush started.

And there we sat for the next three hours, bless our understanding waitress (we tipped her well, I promise!) We talked about husbands, kids, friends, dreams, hopes, worries, in-laws, childhood issues, American Idol, simplifying our lives, complicating our lives, etc., etc., etc.

And we could have gone on longer. That's the way it is when I'm with my sisters (Karen lives almost five hours away so she could not make it to this particular Mom's Day Out, but if she had the only difference it would have made might have been in restaurant choice). We can talk about just about anything and with the sweetest feeling of being secure and understood because we know we get each other. We are all as different as can be in personalities and styles yet that just makes it more fun. With no one do I feel more free to totally be myself that I do with Karen and Deb. It's such a relief to take off the mask that I often wear and just be me, warts and all.

When I started having babies I wanted a girl first - I had a boy. That was scary because I didn't know much about boys, not having had brothers myself. But I fell instantly in love with him, so much so that by the time I was about to deliver my second child I kind of hoped for a boy so Dan would have a brother. Again, the chromosomes decided otherwise and Emily was born. My disappointment lasted about a millisecond because I was thrilled with her. And then pregnancy number three - this time I wanted a girl, not just for myself but for Emily and the baby itself. Because I knew they would be sisters and that was the greatest gift. The cosmos cooperated this time and Elizabeth was born. Sisters.

If I could never give my girls another thing they would be okay because they have what they need most - each other. Some day, I tell them when they are in an argument, she will be your best friend. Sometimes they find that hard to believe but more and more I think they can see how that might possibly come to pass.

Carol Saline said "Sisters function as safety nets in a chaotic world simply by being there for each other." Amen, and amen.

I dedicate this post to my safety nets, Karen and Deb - I love you guys, always have, always will.