Monday Musings – The Battle of the Bathtub

Bathtub or Hurdle?

Getting into a shower should not be an extreme sport. This activity of daily living should not require an athletic scholarship, nor a spotter for climbing safety. I wanted to take a shower, not compete in a track and field event. Yet, this is the competition I  entered after settling into my hotel room during a recent trip.

Allow me to set the scene for you. It was a four-hour bus ride, then a twenty-minute ferry ride to the exquisite location of my trip. The air was crisp, the leaves on the trees danced in the breeze showing off their red, orange and yellow hues. Our taxi was a carriage pulled by two beautiful horses that looked like Clydesdales.

I snuggled close to the traveler sitting next to me (no, I didn’t know her) to shield my face from the bite of the wind. The carriage ride was a short trot uphill for the fancy horses. The hotel was grand, elegant, my luggage was waiting outside my room when I arrived.

And here we are back to the point of my story. After riding with the wind blowing through my short cropped hair, I was ready for a warm shower. I prepared as one would, turned water knob to medium heat and waited as the warmth filled the bathroom.

I raised my leg to step into the tub, but my knee made contact with the edge of the tub with a thud, “Ooouch.” That was the moment I realized I didn’t lift high enough. I should have thought back to my son’s high school days as a hurdler – up and over. Had I realized the height of the tub was above my knee, I would have done a few stretches.

Where was my personal trainer when I needed her? How was I to know that out of 388 hotel rooms, I would have the ONE that required a hydraulic lift to enter? My athlete prowess allowed me to enter the tub without incident the next three days of my stay.

I took a picture of the bathtub and texted it to my son. He said, “that’s not a bathtub, it’s a baptismal pool.”

A lightbulb lit in my head…yes a pool. Perhaps I was supposed to stand on the edge of the tub and jump in. Afterall, my preparation to shower did feel like an extreme sport. I lost the first battle of the bathtub, but I won the war. I experienced a peaceful shower the remaining days of my hotel stay.

You may not have experienced a bathtub challenge, but what is one challenge you experienced in which you were able to laugh about later?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

Monday Musings – Things My Adult Sons Expect Me to Do That My Body has Voted Against

 

The Tool Bag

My body does its own thing, whenever it wants. I give it rest, I feed it…and still, it revolts against me. I occasionally lift weights so that my aging body maintains muscle tone, but by no means do I consider myself the next weightlifting champion. My son must believe otherwise.

My strength was tested the day my son left his tool bag at my house and called and asked me to move it. “Ma can you grab my tool bag and put it in your car?”

I saw the backpack tool bag resting on the side of a couch in my Living room. I wondered which son had gifted me the opportunity to move yet another item from a place it did not belong.

I tugged on the straps of the bag; it did not move. I moved into a squat position, bending at the knees. The drill, tape measure, and other small items dangling from the side of the backpack, were no indication of its weight. I stood up, took a deep breath, then squatted again as though I was preparing for rope slams (from my gym fitness days).

After struggling with the backpack, I called my son and said, “Carrying you for nine months was a beautiful experience; Carrying your backpack is a hostile takeover.”

The call ended with me saying,  “I am happy to offer advice, encouragement, and even a home-cooked meal (sometimes). But if you need something moved that weighs more than a Thanksgiving turkey, please phone a friend. I am physically transitioning my parenting role from physical labor to project management.”

 

Story 2 - The Bare Truth

Have you ever had a day, or week where you had so much to do that you kept pushing through? You could have said “No” to something, but you thought you could do it all. And that’s where this story picks up.

I jumped into a project that sounded like fun, but I didn’t know it would require a significant commitment in a short amount of time. This was coupled with preparing for a special event at work then preparing for an extended work trip.

Everything worked out, the project I was a part of was amazing. I called my son on the way home from the event to tell him all the details. He said, “Well, I’m outside walking if you want to take a lap with me.”

I was about ten minutes from home so I told my son I  would join him for a short walk to unwind (not a power walk). When I arrived home, my son was making his way up the sidewalk.

My son followed me into the house and asked, “Do you want to try a pair of my Barefoot shoes.” If you’re not familiar with the shoe, it’s the kind of shoe where there are individual spaces for your toes or indention areas for the toes. You can feel the sole of your foot on the ground as you walk.

I felt a little tattered and worn out, but I wanted to spend time with my son. I slipped my foot into his extra pair of shoes. The shoes didn’t swallow my feet, but there was a lot of excess space for my foot to move around.

After walking a few blocks, my son asked, “How do the shoes feel?”

“Too big, I’m gripping my toes to keep my feet from sliding in the shoes. My hip is hurting on one side and the back of my quad on the other,”

I limped and waddled side to side the last block back to the house. This was a cross fit training I had not signed up for. Once we made it back home, I pulled off those Barefoot shoes and let my bare feet touch my hardwood floor.

The next day my neighbor called me and said, “I saw you on your walk yesterday. You looked like you were going to pass out. I thought I was going to have to send my wheelchair over to you.”

We shared a belly laugh, and I explained my Barefoot experience. I was tired and so were my feet…that’s the bare truth.

Each of my sons took me on a journey my body was not prepared for. What I’ve learned from them is to expect the unexpected. Relax and go with the flow.

What is one unexpected encounter you’ve experienced lately? How did you handle it?

 

 

Monday Musings – Risk Taking – When your child wants adventure, but you want a signed waiver

 

Risk Taking - An Illusion Museum

My son recently announced that he wants to start taking more risks. My eyes twitched, followed by my head, and neck muscles. The sound from the back of my throat came out like a scream, “What?! I fight hard to keep you alive and safe as it is.”

In my mind his statement said, “Ma, I have decided to increase the likelihood of something happening to me.” Apparently, he meant taking chances, trying new things and stepping outside his comfort zone.

As parents we (you and I) raise our children to be independent, confident, and willing to try things. Then when they become independent you’re like, wait, I didn’t mean that independent. My son has me feeling like I need to create a maternal risk assessment department that evaluates every decision he makes.

Just for fun and to help us maintain our sanity, I’ve created a list of tips for parents of risk-taking children.

1.    Take a deep breath.
Then take another one. You may be taking a lot of deep breaths from now on.

2.    Ask yourself: “Is this actually dangerous, or just something I wouldn't do?”
There is a difference between dangerous and Mom doesn't like it.

3.    Remember: You raised them to be independent.
Unfortunately, they took you seriously.

4.    Try not to say, “I told you so.”
At least not immediately. Give it 30 seconds.

5.    Let them make some mistakes.
This is  difficult for parents because apparently we were not designed for this part.

6.    Resist the urge to give a 45-minute lecture.
They've already stopped listening at minute three.

7.    Remember that risk-taking can actually be a good thing.
Sometimes taking a chance leads to confidence, growth, opportunity and success.
Just make sure they're not taking the kind of risk that requires you to identify them at the hospital.

8.    Set boundaries without trying to control everything.
Your job isn't to remove every risk from their life.
It's to make sure they understand the difference between “bold move” and “bad decision.”

9.    Accept that you may never stop worrying.
Parenting doesn't come with an expiration date.
Apparently, neither does a parent’s anxiety.

During my son’s school aged days, I remember signing many permission slips, and participation waivers. As he transitions into adulthood, I feel that I should have my son sign a waiver; One that states that he will not engage in any high-risk activities that cause me anxiety.

What advice would you give to a parent of a child who wants to take more risks?