FROM TANYA
My children…my amazing, brilliant, PIA (Pain in Ass) children… and me, a screamer, a cuddler, a teaser, and on rare occasions a Mama Bear willing to protect her cubs at all costs. I was known to be the strict Mom (shocking, eh?)… but, yes, until turning 18, I gave my big kids very little wiggle room… I am my mother’s daughter… and I don’t regret that I kept a short leash… and in retrospect I don’t think they regret it either…
Let me explain… my short leash was around behavior and discipline outside the house. Inside our home there was a long leash… my kids could think their own thoughts, make noise, have late bedtimes, choose their own habits for the most part (I get some blame for not teaching good habits, but hey, after a while it is your own deal if you smell good or not).
During my first marriage, my favorite Aunt from my ex’s side once said;
“Well one thing is for sure, your kids will never need to go find themselves.”
Until recently, I’d pondered what the hell she meant by that, constantly reframing it into a compliment, although I was never quite sure it really was one. Now, whether originally intended as one or not (because perhaps it was a polite way of saying, “your children are a pack of wild animals”), I consider it a compliment… with some support from me, but mostly on their own, each of my older three children developed their own individual way of looking at the world… their own individual way of looking at me…they each are writing their own story of life… how can that not be the greatest compliment of all.
My children…my amazing, brilliant, PIA (Pain in Ass) children… and me, a screamer, a cuddler, a teaser, and on rare occasions a Mama Bear willing to protect her cubs at all costs. I was known to be the strict Mom (shocking, eh?)… but, yes, until turning 18, I gave my big kids very little wiggle room… I am my mother’s daughter… and I don’t regret that I kept a short leash… and in retrospect I don’t think they regret it either…
Let me explain… my short leash was around behavior and discipline outside the house. Inside our home there was a long leash… my kids could think their own thoughts, make noise, have late bedtimes, choose their own habits for the most part (I get some blame for not teaching good habits, but hey, after a while it is your own deal if you smell good or not).
During my first marriage, my favorite Aunt from my ex’s side once said;
“Well one thing is for sure, your kids will never need to go find themselves.”
Until recently, I’d pondered what the hell she meant by that, constantly reframing it into a compliment, although I was never quite sure it really was one. Now, whether originally intended as one or not (because perhaps it was a polite way of saying, “your children are a pack of wild animals”), I consider it a compliment… with some support from me, but mostly on their own, each of my older three children developed their own individual way of looking at the world… their own individual way of looking at me…they each are writing their own story of life… how can that not be the greatest compliment of all.
FROM KELSEY (23 Years Old)
How do I describe my mother?
She is stubborn… I guess that’s who I get it from. But my mother has taught me the strength in perseverance and standing up for what you believe in.
She is strong… I think it is a requirement when raising five children ;)
She is silly… Whether it is talking in gibberish with a toddler or dancing like a fool with a spatula in the kitchen, my mom will happily laugh with you.
She is shameless… though I suppose there is no room for shame in child-rearing.
She is distracted… That woman has an obsession with facebook and her phone.
She is insightful… Her down to earth experiences have their advantages and she is a good call to make when you’re in need of advice.
She is sensitive… My mom has taught me emotional depth and always encouraged me and my siblings to express what we were feeling (Let me tell you- we are an expressive group).
She is nurturing… No cuddles compare! But maybe I am biased.
These are only a few words to describe the kind of mother, sister, aunt, mentor and friend that my mother is. There are far too many applicable words to write but I will leave you with one more.
My mother is REMARKABLE…And I am very lucky to have been raised by such a loving (and loved) woman.
How do I describe my mother?
She is stubborn… I guess that’s who I get it from. But my mother has taught me the strength in perseverance and standing up for what you believe in.
She is strong… I think it is a requirement when raising five children ;)
She is silly… Whether it is talking in gibberish with a toddler or dancing like a fool with a spatula in the kitchen, my mom will happily laugh with you.
She is shameless… though I suppose there is no room for shame in child-rearing.
She is distracted… That woman has an obsession with facebook and her phone.
She is insightful… Her down to earth experiences have their advantages and she is a good call to make when you’re in need of advice.
She is sensitive… My mom has taught me emotional depth and always encouraged me and my siblings to express what we were feeling (Let me tell you- we are an expressive group).
She is nurturing… No cuddles compare! But maybe I am biased.
These are only a few words to describe the kind of mother, sister, aunt, mentor and friend that my mother is. There are far too many applicable words to write but I will leave you with one more.
My mother is REMARKABLE…And I am very lucky to have been raised by such a loving (and loved) woman.
FROM JOSH (19 Years Old)
I spent last Sunday in Las Vegas celebrating my brother’s 21st birthday, which was oddly poetic. Things seemed to come full circle, as the last time I was in Vegas with Tanya was the first time she met my dad’s parents and extended family. I was four years old when they first started dating. The weekend was mostly forgettable, as there is not much for a toddler to do in Sin City. However, I do vividly remember our final meal in town. It was breakfast, and there was a buffet in the hotel restaurant. One thing led to another and after refusing to share my gummy bears with her, I decided to spit in her face. (I know, I know. That was pretty gross. But I haven’t spit in anyone’s face since then and I like to think Tanya’s parenting has something to do with that.) To the amazement of everyone around, she stayed remarkably calm. However, this should not have come as a surprise. Over the next fifteen years I would come to realize that Tanya is a phenomenal parent. She is an extremely fun, outgoing mother who takes her children to see 80’s one-hit-wonders, manages to provide gifts and birthday celebrations in times of financial hardships, and always makes sure that her children are happy; a simple measure that can make quite a difference. But what sets her apart in my eyes is her ability to sympathize, and rationalize when things go wrong. In the heat of the moment, as a four-year-old boy spat in her face, she calmly taught me my first of many lessons to come. Never her “step-son”—I have always been Tanya’s “son”—and that is precisely the kind of parent she is. Spit or no spit, she always finds a way to remain compassionate, and I think that says a lot.
I spent last Sunday in Las Vegas celebrating my brother’s 21st birthday, which was oddly poetic. Things seemed to come full circle, as the last time I was in Vegas with Tanya was the first time she met my dad’s parents and extended family. I was four years old when they first started dating. The weekend was mostly forgettable, as there is not much for a toddler to do in Sin City. However, I do vividly remember our final meal in town. It was breakfast, and there was a buffet in the hotel restaurant. One thing led to another and after refusing to share my gummy bears with her, I decided to spit in her face. (I know, I know. That was pretty gross. But I haven’t spit in anyone’s face since then and I like to think Tanya’s parenting has something to do with that.) To the amazement of everyone around, she stayed remarkably calm. However, this should not have come as a surprise. Over the next fifteen years I would come to realize that Tanya is a phenomenal parent. She is an extremely fun, outgoing mother who takes her children to see 80’s one-hit-wonders, manages to provide gifts and birthday celebrations in times of financial hardships, and always makes sure that her children are happy; a simple measure that can make quite a difference. But what sets her apart in my eyes is her ability to sympathize, and rationalize when things go wrong. In the heat of the moment, as a four-year-old boy spat in her face, she calmly taught me my first of many lessons to come. Never her “step-son”—I have always been Tanya’s “son”—and that is precisely the kind of parent she is. Spit or no spit, she always finds a way to remain compassionate, and I think that says a lot.
FROM JARED
My mother calls me her Orchid.
I had many different nicknames growing up (Jaybird, Dudepatch, Doodlebug, Gentle Giant, Taz-Man, etc.), but this one is the most meaningful to me.
In kindergarten a challenging path was set in front of me: I was diagnosed with ADHD for having a hyperactive brain that wanted to learn everything at once. However, my mother had the wisdom and foresight to know I not only needed particular care, but I was a unique species of human in my own right.
She fought hard to have my roots grow in firm, rich soil. When the light of the world was blinding and dangerous she was there to shade me from its influence, and she surrounded me with strong, tall role models to help carry the load. When my mind was dark or scary, she was a warm and caring light, urging me to confront my feelings and reminding me that I will always have a place at home. She watered me frequently, with love and guidance.
And above all, she understood that by giving me space, I would best be able to grow into the confident, charming, and intrinsically motivated organism I am today. She embodies an essential tenet of any effective parent, by treating every day of parenting as a new step in a dynamic relationship, one built on learning from mistakes and victories.
My mother and I are still learning from each other, and I will always be grateful to have her steady hands and heart to nurture my growth.
My mother calls me her Orchid.
I had many different nicknames growing up (Jaybird, Dudepatch, Doodlebug, Gentle Giant, Taz-Man, etc.), but this one is the most meaningful to me.
In kindergarten a challenging path was set in front of me: I was diagnosed with ADHD for having a hyperactive brain that wanted to learn everything at once. However, my mother had the wisdom and foresight to know I not only needed particular care, but I was a unique species of human in my own right.
She fought hard to have my roots grow in firm, rich soil. When the light of the world was blinding and dangerous she was there to shade me from its influence, and she surrounded me with strong, tall role models to help carry the load. When my mind was dark or scary, she was a warm and caring light, urging me to confront my feelings and reminding me that I will always have a place at home. She watered me frequently, with love and guidance.
And above all, she understood that by giving me space, I would best be able to grow into the confident, charming, and intrinsically motivated organism I am today. She embodies an essential tenet of any effective parent, by treating every day of parenting as a new step in a dynamic relationship, one built on learning from mistakes and victories.
My mother and I are still learning from each other, and I will always be grateful to have her steady hands and heart to nurture my growth.
