Posts Tagged With: letting go

When Your Child Decides He May Not Go to College

Posted on September 6, 2016 by Robyn Parets

This is the time of year when kids go back to school and parents post fabulous Facebook photos of their children in front of the house or at the bus stop. I’ve posted these photos before as well. But this year I didn’t.

Ethan, my oldest son, started his junior year of college and moved into his first apartment off campus. I opted to let him mark the transition without a lot of fanfare. And, Noah, a high school senior, is choosing not to complete 12th grade in the traditional way.

He’s not going back to high school.

Angel2

Noah at age 12

This wasn’t an easy decision but it’s what he wanted to do. I didn’t feel a photo was appropriate for him either. For Noah, this year is a big deal – photo or no photo – and besides not joining his friends at high school, he may not apply to college. Noah is a trainee at Boston Ballet. It’s a two-year program, although many of the dancers leave at the end of this year to join professional ballet companies around the world. It’s a huge stepping stone for Noah and he was confronted with an important choice: College or a ballet career? He is leaning toward ballet.

While Noah makes his decision, I sit here day after day tossing away college application invitations from the likes of UCLA and USC on the West Coast to Northeast powerhouses like Harvard, Brown, Dartmouth and Princeton. Each time an application invitation arrives, I show it to Noah. With a knowing look, I toss them in the trash (a few I save just for the memories). It’s a look of:

“You’ve worked hard, achieved academic success and now it’s time to follow your passion.”

Face to Face with Parent Choices

Once upon a time I was a young mother and made the choice to move to a town with a high-ranked public school system – the same choice countless parents make all over the nation. Would I do it all over again? Maybe. But if I knew then what I know now, I may have stayed where I was as my children both had passion and drive. They would have excelled ANYWHERE. Instead, the academic environment in our high school is intense. You’re probably familiar with this story in many high schools: Kids study hours upon hours to get the best grades, take as many AP courses as possible and even cheat their way to the top – all to get into the best colleges so they can basically repeat this cycle all over again. I get it: It’s a dog eat dog world out there. But through my own children, I know this isn’t necessary, nor is it the only way to succeed in your career or life. There are other choices, albeit not as conventional.

Noah, you see, chose to stay in high school for his junior year and excelled in all of his honors and AP courses. And now that he’s top-ranked in his top-ranked high school, he may be setting aside a college degree to pursue his passion: Ballet. Some would say he worked hard in high school for nothing. But I say: He worked hard for the right reasons and not because his parents pushed him. Or because he felt peer pressure. Or because he had to get these grades so he could get into the best college.

He did it for himself. And it makes the whole high school experience that much better.

Now, some parents have said to me:

“Really, he may not go to college? What about all he achieved in high school? Are you sure that’s a wise move?” My answers: #1: “Yup, he may not go to college.” #2: “He worked hard to learn.” #3: “Following your passion and pouring that same academic drive into your dream career is the wisest thing any high school teen can possibly do.”

That doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes think:

“Should he just fill out a few college applications and see what happens?”

But I know that this is parental peer pressure kicking in. This is what kids usually do at this age. It’s also what raising children in a highly competitive academic environment does. It points kids and parents in one direction: This way to college.

 

Encourage Passion

I would perhaps feel differently about my son if he had no other plans for the foreseeable future. But this isn’t the case. And this leads me to consider how stressful the high school environment is for teenagers today. In fact, kids are so busy jockeying to get into the best colleges that many don’t have time to pursue a passion. I realize this is just my opinion, but based on what I saw happening with my kids’ friends, many teenagers cram in as many activities as they can as this makes them seem well-rounded (and of course there are about 10 spots on the Common Application to list activities and who wants to leave blanks?) In many cases, going straight to college is the right answer. But not always. What would happen if every one of these kids decided to follow ONE passion wholeheartedly while in high school? I don’t know the answer to this but it might make the high school years less stressful and more enjoyable. It might also create new pathways and opportunities.

This is the Time

So, as this back-to-school season kicks into high gear, I invite you all to consider the potential your children have and help them discover their passions. This might change their course entirely. It might not. But, leaving the door wide open will allow your teenager to cross the threshold on his own and discover what’s on the other side.

About the author: Robyn Parets is a personal finance and business writer based in Boston. A former writer for Investor’s Business Daily (IBD) and NerdWallet, Robyn is also the founder and owner of Pretzel Kids®, a children’s fitness brand and online training course. You can find her on Twitter @RobynParets, follow her musings at Away From Om, or reach her via email at robynparets@gmail.com

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Categories: being a mother, challenges, College, growing up, letting go, mother, musings, parenting, Philosophy, raising boys, raising sons, That's Life!, Truth, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 17 Comments

The Ganesh in the Room

Posted on January 14, 2016 by Robyn Parets

If you teach yoga, you’re probably familiar with the phenomenon of the yoga audition. And if you don’t teach yoga, this may sound a bit disconcerting. But it’s a “thing” and yes, it flies in the face of what yoga is supposed to be all about in more ways than I have room to write about.

A friend of mine recently “auditioned” to teach yoga at a popular upscale fitness center in a major city. Her story is about as close as I’ll get to being a fly on the wall as I’ll never go to one of these cattle call auditions myself. She had three to five minutes to give it her best shot or rather, performance. She also had to participate as a student in everyone else’s auditions as well. This was part of the deal.

Am I alone in thinking that this is a messed-up way to find the most skilled yoga instructors? To that end, what other industry subjects job candidates to sit through other prospective employee interviews? But this is indicative of how upside-down the yoga industry has become. Pun intended.

I know a lot of professional actors and auditioning is a necessity if they want to land a role. But think about it: Yoga teaching is not acting, although it’s helpful to keep students engaged and entertained. It’s teaching.

What’s going on here? How did teaching yoga become another ego-filled offshoot of the entertainment industry?

I’m not just talking about the ludicrous way yoga teachers have to strut their stuff to land a teaching gig. I’m talking about the whole kit and caboodle. The entire yoga industry has run amuck and I’m not afraid to say so.

Let’s take a closer look at the general state of teaching yoga, keeping in mind this isn’t how we all roll:

  • Yoga teachers are expected to work their way up to prime teaching slots at coveted studios. This means “volunteering” aka working at the reception desk, sweeping floors, cleaning up props and more. For free. If you’re a studio owner you may balk at this saying that your studio offers “work-study” – meaning your volunteer labor can take classes in exchange for work. This isn’t entirely awful, if you are made of money or perhaps a college student who wants to take a couple of classes a week as a hobby. But, barring those circumstances, if you’re aspiring to teach yoga, why not “volunteer” your services at a needy charitable organization versus a for-profit yoga studio? And to studio owners: I suggest paying wannabe teachers, even at minimum wage. This way they can decide how to spend their discretionary income.

A starting out yoga teacher is akin to a starving actor. It’s time the industry stops preying on these newbies.

  • A skilled yoga teacher isn’t necessarily a marketing maven. Yet, owners of studios, gyms and fitness locales can’t seem to differentiate between the two. Either that or they just don’t care.

 

Those with the most class groupies, the highest numbers of “followers” on Instagram and Twitter, as well as thousands of Facebook friends, often win by filling their classes. Meanwhile, the best teachers out there – the ones who actually know their stuff and would never think of posting Instagram pictures in a one-handed upside-down pose – don’t get hired because they can’t attract swarms of students and it doesn’t make financial sense for the studio. I get it. But how do we reconcile it when students leave classes wondering how they too can achieve a one-handed upside-down pose or lose weight to fit into those skinny yoga pants?

 

  • 200-hour and 300-hour teacher training courses have proliferated – some good, some bad, some ugly. As a result, our industry continues to spit out teachers who practice their most impressive poses in order to audition for menial wage teaching jobs. Oh, did I mention that the yoga industry is unregulated so the onus rests on students to figure out where to go to earn a quality education that will prepare them to teach this ancient healing practice as well as land teaching jobs.

 

  • Then of course there is the issue of whether yoga class students can sort out the riff from the raff in a regular class setting. I don’t think so, at least not when you’re new to yoga. Just think about it: If you’re a new student who attends your first class at studio XYZ and the teacher offers a kick asana workout and you’re looking for a new fitness routine, you may think that this is the be all and end all of yoga.

 

Since When Is Teaching Yoga Like Starring in a Broadway Show?

Once you’re done mulling over the above points, let’s pause for a moment and talk about the Ganesh in the room, er yoga studio.

Yoga has become all about the ego. Some may even go so far as to say that modern day yoga actually promotes the ego. I know, it’s tough to swallow. Yoga teachers and studios thrive off having the biggest classes, most popular workshops, and teacher trainings with waiting lists. Some teachers walk around with headsets on because without these contraptions, no one can hear them say, “Leave your egos at the door.” You may argue that you need a headset because your classes are too crowded. But, I say to that: time to limit class sizes. This way you can actually see all the students in the room and do your job: Teach them instead of shouting poses and commands into a microphone.

But this is a tough one as yoga teachers often earn their income based on the numbers of students that attend their classes. Students might as well walk in the door holding up dollar signs. Teachers need to be popular. It’s part of being successful in this industry. It feeds the ego, not unlike getting a lead role in a Broadway show or movie.

It’s enough to make your head spin as this ego trip is about as far away from yoga as we can get.

Stepping Down from the Soapbox

This may be ruffling some feathers out there. But I speak from experience as I was part of this circus act until recently. I ran a bustling yoga studio for 10 plus years. I offered a 200-hour teacher training course for eight years, hosted scores of workshops featuring nationally known instructors, led retreats, guest taught at prominent resorts, and hired dozens of teachers  – alas never any “volunteers” to sweep the floor.

However, I am opting not to run my studio anymore by choice. It was time to step off the hamster wheel as I didn’t like what was going on in the industry around me. I still teach two classes a week out of my space but I no longer run a studio. There’s a big difference.

I have moved onto other things, yet I love yoga and consider my practice a vital part of my life. To that end, I’m now focusing on expanding my online kids’ yoga teacher training business, Pretzel Kids. I’ve also gone back to writing and my journalism roots.

What’s to Come of the Yoga Biz?

Meanwhile, other studios and teachers – and there are some darned good ones everywhere – are still fighting to succeed and to do so, they need to retain students, have an audience, and market like crazy. Doesn’t sound much different than any other industry, right? Yoga teachers and studio owners deserve to earn a living too, right?

Trust me, I understand and support this. But, here’s where the buck stops: Yoga is VERY different from other industries. Other businesses, you see, aren’t all about teaching others to drop the ego. If we could just figure out a way around the ego, there would be no issue. But, here’s the contradiction: If we really wanted to banish the ego, we’d get rid of conventions, festivals, podcasts, posing on Instagram, lululemon, and the list goes on. What should we do? Close down all the studios? Stop teaching? Stop attending classes, workshops, yoga events? Make a mass exodus and turn to other careers and income streams? It’s a big dilemma. The industry is changing and it’s up to you to decide if you want to be part of it and how.

Find Balance

Here’s an idea. Maybe it’s time to stop and find balance – in the name of yoga. Everyone’s idea of balance is different. Find out what works for you and try not to get caught up in the yoga rat race. For me, I focused on developing the Pretzel Kids online yoga training course. It seemed the right time to move this exceptional course online for a low price point. This way aspiring yogis and non-yogis alike can move their teaching aspirations in another direction – take it to the kids and out of the adult yoga studio. Pretzel Kids helps those taking the course learn how to teach children’s yoga and market classes where kids congregate: schools, camps, daycare centers and more. I resisted the online yoga world for a long time, but ultimately, this was the best way for me to reach masses of adults worldwide who want to teach a quality kids yoga curriculum. This experience has taught me that you can find balance by teaching yoga in an ego-free way with the help of modern technology and tools.

Find Truth

Maybe the yoga community should just be honest. Isn’t truth a big part of yoga? Let’s all fess up: This industry is where it is today because, generally speaking, looks and appearances have become more important to yoga than the practice itself. The ego is winning. But you can change this – for yourself at least.

So what to do? There’s no one answer but here’s a good start: Try spending some time alone on your mat. Move any way you want to. Get quiet. Wear pajamas. Learn not to care about who is teaching you, who is listening, and what studio you go to. Be your own teacher. Be creative and figure out new ways to hone your skills.

As a yoga teacher and yogini, my wakeup call came when I took time off from teaching adult yoga classes and taught myself. Give it a try. The Ganesh in the room will appreciate it.

Robyn Parets is a journalist, business writer and retired yoga studio owner based in Boston. A former writer for Investor’s Business Daily and NerdWallet, Robyn is also the founder and owner of Pretzel Kids (http://www.pretzelkids.com), a children’s yoga brand and online teacher training course. You can follow her on Twitter @RobynParets or @Pretzelkids, and keep up with her musings on her blog at http://www.awayfromom.net.

Categories: business of yoga, challenges, Etcetera, get real, letting go, musings, Philosophy, That's Life!, Truth, Yoga | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Summer of Tough Love: 5 Things I Learned

Posted on September 1, 2015 by Robyn Parets

After months of planning, our August trip to Europe, a first for our family, was coming together. Until it unraveled on the day I was supposed to depart. Completely.

No trip. An injured son. A critically ill dog. And my father-in-law Paul passed away. Not the summer we had anticipated. Yet this was what we got.

At about this time, you might be feeling bad for my family. Don’t. This was how things were meant to be. This summer tested my ability to change and accept things that I can’t do anything about. I learned more than I could have imagined and I thank Paul for his part in this. Here are my summer takeaways:

  1. Be grateful – every minute of every hour of every day. You are on this earth for a limited time. You’ve got one shot. Make the most of it. If you don’t like your job, quit. If you are unhappy in a relationship, leave. If you live in the country but always felt more like a city gal, move. If you love your family, hold them tight and spend more quality time together. Be outdoors. Take long walks. Eat healthy food. Love big.
  2. Trust – that your difficulties help lead you to clarity. I dealt with heartache, pain and monumental stuff this summer – all at once. But, this forced my family to come together. Not only that, it caused me to pause, re-evaluate my priorities and make some tough decisions. I may have ultimately made these same decisions, but not this quickly.
  3. Have faith  – that things happen for a reason, usually. Sometimes this won’t be apparent immediately and other times you’ll know the reason right off the bat.
  • Many examples of this occurred this summer. Here are a couple: I was supposed to be in Europe August 6-23. Joel arrived in London one day earlier, on August 5. We got the call that Paul was going on life support in California on August 6. As stressful and expensive as it was, Joel was able to immediately book tickets from London to LA, and I never got on a plane to Europe. I booked a flight to LA instead. We arrived hours before Paul passed away, and Joel got to say goodbye to his dad. Joel had a feeling that his father, who had been ill for more than a year, would pass away during our trip or right before. He was right (listen to your gut: another blog post, another time.) But, here’s the kicker: This was the first time since I’ve known my husband that he blocked out two and a half solid weeks for a vacation. He parceled out his work, had no projects pending. Didn’t even take a computer with him. Now he had two weeks with his slate clear to say goodbye to his father, spend time with his mother and deal with his grief.
  • The day after Paul died, I had a bit of a meltdown under all the stress. I decided to book a flight home two days after the funeral even though Joel wanted to stay in California longer. I just felt a strong feeling that I needed to get home. Ethan picked me up at the airport. The dog was in the car and she wasn’t acting like herself. She hadn’t eaten all day and was lethargic. I took one look at her and knew something was wrong. The next morning, I took her to the vet and found out she had severe anemia. The vet told me he’d call the next morning with her test results. Three hours after I got home, the dog looked worse. I made a gut decision to take her to the animal hospital. She was diagnosed with immune mediated hemolytic anemia (IMHA), a critical and rapid-onset autoimmune disease of the red blood cells and marrow. She was hanging on for her life. Nine days and two blood transfusions later, Phoebe came home. We’re giving her six meds, including three powerful immune suppressants. She is weak and has a long road to recovery ahead of her, but she is improving and getting stronger daily. If I didn’t come home that day, my dog would have died. I am sure of it. And, if we had gone to Europe and the dog was in boarding, she would have died. I am sure of this too. I believe that Paul passed away at a time when Joel could be fully present and when we could be home in time to save Phoebe’s life.

4. Believe – that it’s ok if you don’t understand why things happen all the time. Choose to see the good and know that your situation is meant to point you in a direction that you never would have taken otherwise. Here’s an example:

  • Noah was looking forward to focusing on his dance training this summer at Boston Ballet. But he broke his ankle in July and instead had to sit out for the better part of the training. He was going to need surgery to remove the broken bone and we scheduled this for the end of August. With his type of break, he could walk – just not dance. So, this way (or so we thought), he could go on the trip to Europe and have surgery after that. Instead, he ended up not dancing, not going to Europe and waiting all summer for surgery. He also grew – a lot. I am convinced he needed a break, his body needed a break. Not only this, he is more determined and focused now than ever before. He will return to Boston Ballet in a few weeks and I have a feeling he will dance with renewed energy, focus and commitment. I also know that this injury will open new doors for him. I’ll just have to wait for those doors to appear so he can open them.

5. Change – is the only constant. Know that there are some things you can control and others you can’t. Know the difference. I learned this big time this summer.

Oh, tomorrow is September 1. If you live in New England, it’s the unofficial start of fall. Hallelujah.

Categories: being a mother, challenges, Etcetera, get real, letting go, musings, Summer, That's Life!, Truth, Writing | Tags: , , , , | 12 Comments

And One Day It Happened……

Posted on May 26, 2015 by Robyn Parets

About a month ago, I was talking to my oldest son, Ethan, on the phone. He was nearing the end of his freshman year at Northeastern University as a journalism and film studies major. Usually our conversations consisted of something like this:

Me: How are you?

Ethan: Fine

Me: What’s going on?

Ethan: Not much. Same old: school, improv

Me: Do you think we can get together soon for dinner? I’ll be in town next Wednesday.

Ethan: Maybe. I’m pretty busy. Can I let you know next week?

Me: Sure. Well, just called to say ‘hello’. Talk soon?

Ethan: Sure. Bye mom.

But this particular conversation was different. Ethan was working on a particularly challenging story assignment. We spent about half an hour discussing the story, his angle, his interviews, how difficult it was to find the right people to talk to, and how he came up with his idea to begin with. THEN, wait for it……he actually listened to my advice. Now, granted, I am a journalist and sometimes actually know what I’m talking about. But still, this was MONUMENTAL. And, then….we had a two-way conversation about a common interest.

Flash forward to two weeks ago: Ethan was about to leave for a five-week journalism semester in Spain. I was leaving the house before he would be picked up for the airport, so we went through his check-list to make sure he had everything for the trip. As this happened, my young adult college journalism life flashed before me. I was in Spain this exact time my freshman year in college and I did a similar journalism semester in London as well (albeit with typewriters and no cell phones). I said goodbye to Ethan and saw his eyes welling up with tears. He gave me a big hug and then, a second hug. I told him how proud I was of him and he promised we’d talk via Face Time and chat via instant messenger (which we’ve done several times). I said goodbye as I left the house, holding back my own tears of pride.

Since Ethan has been in Spain, he has started his own blog, written his first article for the NU Journalism Abroad news site, (a brilliant story on the controversy surrounding an abandoned bullfighting ring — you should all read it!) and is now en route from Barcelona to Madrid where he will work on more stories and blog posts. Since he’s been gone, we’ve talked about his stories and blog posts as if we were peers.

And then it hit me: My son is an adult.

Not a young teenager who has some mature thoughts and seems like an adult sometimes. He’s a real, bona-fide adult. How the hell did that happen? Yes, he’s 19 years old and at some point I knew he’d be a grownup. But, like most parents, there comes a time when it hits us smack in face. That time has arrived.

As parents, we try to raise our children in the best way possible. In our family that meant, above all else, teaching our kids how to make wise choices, pursue their passions, be kind to others, and engage with the world. I understood that my kids may grow up to be like their parents, or turn out to be nothing like us.

But when you see yourself in your adult children, even a little bit, it’s both eerie and enlightening.

Ethan, you see, did his best to defy everything that I was about. Yoga and health food topped the list. Although there were likely other reasons for his aversion to yoga and vegetables, I think he wanted nothing to do with my choices because he didn’t want to be like his mother. I’m sure you can all relate. I mean who wants to be just like their mother, especially teenage boys?

Up until Ethan was about nine years old, I was a full-time freelance journalist. He was young so I doubt he remembers much about what I was doing locked in my office writing. What hits more close to home for him is my second “career”: a yoga studio owner. This consumed most nights and weekends of his childhood. So, reflecting back on this (and the fact that he probably thought it was a little strange that his mom also practiced and taught yoga while his friends’ moms were lawyers, bankers, and doctors), it seems well, a bit normal, that he would steer clear of my career and interests.

This, my friends, makes it all the most fascinating to me that my son is choosing my other passion as a possible career: writing. He didn’t witness me working in a newsroom or burning the midnight oil writing stories on deadline (I did most of this before he was born). I never pressured him to go this route. Yet here he is. And here’s the uncanny coincidence: As I watched Ethan make choices for himself, I started making new career choices as well. Our discussions about writing caused me to pause and realize that I truly missed writing. So, as Ethan discovers his path, I am creating a new chapter for myself.

Could it be that I am following in my son’s footsteps?

Categories: being a mother, College, Etcetera, get real, growing up, journalism, letting go, mother, musings, On the Road, parenting, Philosophy, raising boys, raising sons, That's Life!, Travel, Truth, Writing, Yoga | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Joining “The Club”

Posted on August 22, 2014 by Robyn Parets

The initiation process began in May 2014.

There were events left and right: Senior prom, spring musical, last Improv show, parties, graduation and more. I attended Ethan and I graduation dayevery single one – apparently prerequisites for gaining entry into this “Club.” Then the initiation phase was over and I moved into the quiet phase. Those in the Club know all about this: The summer after graduation when reality sets in. I barely saw him. I was away with his little brother; he was working at a summer camp. I was in bed by 10 pm; he got home long after I was sleeping. We were like ships passing in the night but I still knew where he was.

Next week, I become a member of the Club, like it or not. I didn’t ask to join but my membership is not an option. I never understood this Club before or even knew it existed. Until now. I know members who have already been admitted but never understood what made them so different from the rest of us. I never understood how they felt or why. Until now.

My welcoming party will consist of a bunch of strangers moving their kids into a college dorm. They are joining the club, too. All of us will likely be feeling the same way and albeit from different walks of life, we likely had similar initiations.

I will officially become inducted into the “Where Have the Last 18 years Gone” Club on August 31, when I give Ethan a hug

Ethan's 6-year old soccer photo.

Ethan’s 6-year old soccer photo.

good-bye and drive home without him. I’ll be part of a Club I never knew was out there. Other members might feel the same way as I do: Sort of lost, like a ship without an anchor. But yet, haven’t I been the anchor? To make it more confusing, Ethan is my first to go to college so I still have Noah at home. So, I’m not an empty-nester – yet. What gives? Why am I feeling so sad, so lost at sea? It doesn’t make logical sense, but yet fellow members of the club understand.

Reminders of my new membership just won’t stop pouring in.

* I stopped writing this just now because Ethan walked in with a packet for me. It is from the Northeastern University Parents Association. An enclosed “Handbook for Parents and Families” welcomes me to the NEU Parents Association. It comes with a membership card valid August 2014-2019. I guess my Club membership comes with an adjunct membership too.

* On August 2, my boys and I went to see the movie “Boyhood.” Besides knowing that it was about a boy’s life filmed over a 12-year span, I knew nothing about the movie. Probably a good thing or I may not have gone to see it. Why? They might as well have filmed Ethan growing up, starting when he was six in 2002 and ending when he was 18 and on his first day of college – next week. Ethan is the same age as the actor in the movie and it was filmed over the course of the exact years of Ethan’s childhood. It was an extraordinary movie about an ordinary life. From both the boy and his mother’s point of view, the 12 years encompassed moves, divorces, marriages, new families, job changes, alcoholism, new schools, lack of money at times, plenty of money at times. Growing up. The years just sort of fly and as parents, we don’t often take a block of time to reflect upon all the changes that have occurred in the life of our child. Instead, it sort of sneaks up on you. Ethan and I walked out of the movie speechless. I am sure there were too many moments that rang true to him. There were certainly many for me. I think nothing hit me more than when the mother was sitting in her new apartment – after selling the house that was too big – and started crying.

* And then there is the flurry of photos all over my social media feed: Some of Ethan’s friends in their dorm rooms and others of MY high school friend’s kids in THEIR dorm rooms.

Maybe joining this Club was easier before social media existed. No matter. I look around this big house and I see memories: Ethan in grade school, running around the yard, his messy room, parties at the house, a couple of girlfriends, his friends since junior high and even kindergarten hanging around…. Come next week, I won’t know where he is, how late he’s up at night, who he’s hanging around with. I won’t be a part of his everyday life.

I know, I know. This is what is SUPPOSED to happen when we join the Club. It’s all part of growing up. I mean, I did it and I Ethan Senior portraitwent way far away to college – 2,600 miles, not 26. So it should be much easier, logically speaking. But when you join the Club, all reason goes out the window. I am now a web of feelings, collective feelings that took 18 years to accumulate. I didn’t realize how much of my life was tied to Ethan’s life. Yeah, I’m his mom. That’s the way it usually goes. Even when I was working ridiculous hours for most of Ethan’s childhood, I was still there for him. Even when we didn’t see eye to eye during his high school years, I was still there for him, always. Last year, I made sure I was there for every event. I saw every choral performance and play at high school (well, except for the concert chorus in the spring which I totally forgot about! Sorry, Ethan). Come fall, I will have no reason to go to the school. It will leave a strange sort of void.

Besides this void, moving Ethan to college is leaving me with this eery sort of “what now” dilemma. My decisions were intricately tied to Ethan and his brother: what’s best for them, what will make them happy. Even big decisions like where we moved to, my work, and the type of house we lived in. And now the house and location seems less necessary (but not totally unnecessary as Noah is still in high school here). I’ve tried to express these feelings to my husband of four years. On some level, he gets it. But not really. He’s not officially a member of the Club. He just knows I’m in a funk. Sad at times. Excited at others. My life keeps spinning around me. That’s because I can’t just watch 18 years skip away without reflection.

In 9 days (but who’s counting), we will pack up the car with all the crap we bought at Bed Bath & Beyond and Target (I saw a couple members of the club in these stores getting ready for their inductions too). I’ll get him set up. And then I’ll leave. Come home. Re-arrange his room.

And then it’s back to business as I continue on my quest to get rid of all the stuff I’ve accumulated for the past 18 years. All you Club members are welcome to come to my emptying out yard sale sometime this fall. None of this stuff seems necessary or wanted anymore.

Not sure why I’m on this feverish kick but I’m thinking it’s in the Club handbook somewhere.

Categories: College, Etcetera, get real, letting go, mother, parenting, Philosophy, raising boys, That's Life!, Truth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Frozen in Time

Posted on May 8, 2014 by Robyn Parets

As I drove to a yoga class earlier this week,  in a hurry to make it there on time, I slowed down to a snail’s pace when I got to the school zone for a local elementary school. Sure, I had to slow down to 20 miles an hour as this is the speed limit. But, for a brief minute, everything slowed down, not just the speed on my speedometer.

Ethan and Noah

Ethan, left, Noah, right at about age 7 and 4

For a brief minute, it was as if my life was frozen in time. I watched the crossing guards channel the children into school and the parents walking with their children, who looked as if they were going to topple over underneath the weight of those heavy backpacks. I stared at one little girl with bright red hair and watched her trying to walk tall and proud with her books in tow. And then, for no more than five seconds, I locked eyes — out of my left driver’s side window — with an attentive father en route to school with his child. I quickly looked back to the road in front of me and then glanced to my left again. He was no longer looking my way but, rather, looking forward as he continued his slow and steady pace toward the school. It was as if he knew what I was thinking: Where did the time go? Wasn’t it just yesterday when I walked my once proud first-grader to school?

I was caught up in a trance-like state, only coming out of it when I realized I was no longer driving through the school zone and it was time to speed up again. But I wasn’t ready for speeding back up. I wanted to slow down again and walk my boys to school. My eyes got teary as I started to drive faster. When I hopped on the highway, I was back at the speed limit but I couldn’t let go of that father. Still can’t.

Today, I was on my way home and my eyes started tearing up again. I looked to my left and saw a large, bright orange sign: “Be Prepared to Stop.”  Workmen were on the street doing repairs. But I took it as a sign — my own personal sign. And, in case, I forget what this sign says, I can see it from my yard. Guess the universe wants me to keep seeing this sign.

Today, I drove past the parking lot at Sharon High School. I looked to my left and saw my son’s car (err, my car) parked in its usual spot, covered with dirt. My eyes teared up.

Ethan and Noah laughing

my little boys!

I looked out at the women in my yoga class this week and realized I have lived a whole phase of my life (their lives too) with them. When I started teaching this group, our kids went to Cottage Street Elementary school together. Now our kids are either adults or almost adults. We are empty nesters or almost there. And we sure as heck aren’t meeting at the entrance to school to pick up our children and talk about the upcoming school fair.

One could say I am turning into a sentimental mess. Or, going through a phase. Or, realizing that I’m not 30 anymore and time just sort of sped up while my eyes were closed. Or, all of the above.

Ethan Senior portrait

Ethan’s senior picture

In less than a month, my oldest son Ethan is graduating from high school. Next week, he turns 18 and I go get my grey hair covered.  He is taking AP tests today so I drove Noah, who just turned 15, to high school. We were talking and I caught him rolling his eyes at me. My first instinct was to say, “Why did you do that? Was that necessary?” But I said nothing. He’s a typical teenage boy and I am a typical teenager’s mom: I think I’m hip and cool (do they even say those words anymore?) but I am really a 46-year-old mom trying hard to hold fast to memories and my little boys.

In yoga, we all talk about “being present” and “living in the present.” Today, it hit home that the “present” goes by way too fast. We get one chance to do it right “in the present” and then that chance is gone, forever. All we have left is the past and future and we’re not supposed to dwell on that, right? But this week I am struggling to let go and thinking of all the things I should have done better. I know — that’s not productive or healthy. But I’m only human.

Here’s the truth. The gosh-darned human truth. My truth……I am afraid to let go. I am scared out of my mind. I write this as my eyes well up with tears. I am afraid to let my son go to Northeastern University in August. I am afraid for him to move out on his own and begin his adult life. And it’s not because I don’t think he’ll succeed or be ok. I know he will do just great in whatever he sets out to do in life.

It’s because I don’t know if I’LL be ok. There, I said it. I wrote it.

Up until this week, I thought I was fine with Ethan graduating and moving on. I couldn’t possibly be more proud of him. But now, I am reduced to a tearful mess. Ethan and I haven’t always got along in his high school years. Maybe it’s because we are so much alike — both headstrong and opinionated but yet we give 100% of ourselves to others. I’ll admit it: there were times when I couldn’t wait for him to move out. But now that this is becoming a reality, I know that I am just not ready to lose him to the world. I’m not ready to walk into his empty room (which will most likely turn into his room/guest suite next fall) and not trip over piles of dirty laundry. I’m not ready to have nothing to remind him about, all the time. I am not ready to be the mother of a college student.

I am not ready for how I will deal with the void.

Me and the boys in the snow

Frozen in Time

These next few weeks will be particularly challenging. I will cry tears of joy and sadness. I will do my best, even when it’s not good enough, to stay present and enjoy every moment. I will never get these moments back. That much I know. I will try not to cry hysterically next time I pass a group of elementary school children and their parents walking to school. I will always look for that father with the big brown eyes and all his dark brown hair intact.

He has “30” frozen in time.  Take care of that beautiful child weighted under that monstrous backpack. He will be 18 in no time.

 

 

 

Categories: Accidental Stage Mom, Etcetera, get real, letting go, mother, parenting, raising boys, That's Life!, Truth, Uncategorized, Writing, Yoga | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

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