Being Present for My Son by Robin Gorman Newman

I am feeling quite out of sorts these days and trying my best despite it to be present for my son.

My father, 93, suffered a series of strokes, and after two weeks in the hospital is now at an acute rehab facility/hospital getting therapy, etc.

It's really hard and sad to see him so compromised and to have to work so hard toward some semblance of recovery.

I find myself some days waking up in a funk and going to bed with a feeling of unease.  I know my father wouldn't want that....but I'm questioning the future.  Stroke is just so cruel.  Where is he going with all this? I miss what he was...my strong, gregarious dad.

I also know what he would want is for me to be the best possible mother to Seth.  I have always considered myself a somewhat playful mom....but of late....my spirits aren't the highest.  This week, after I gave a rousing greeting to our cockatiel Smokey, Seth commented how I don't use that tone of voice with him.

I felt badly, but was also grateful that he was able to express how he felt.  I explained that I have used that voice with him but these days I'm sad over grandpa, and working to recover myself from a bad knee injury, so my emotional and physical plate feels overflowing.  He understood, but what kids do so well is to live in the moment. And while he grasped what I said, his goal was to have his chipper mom back, and I' struggling to find that voice.

A wise friend of mine pointed out that these are Seth's childhood years, and yet he's spent a decent chunk of time in hospitals seeing my dad through various health scenarios.  It's a lot for a child, though Seth is a trooper and always manages to find medical equipment that peaks his curiosity.  No doubt he'd much rather be at a laser tag place, for example, but he has learned that there are things we do in life that aren't always easy and pleasant, especially for people we love...and he does love my father.  But, I have to make it clear to Seth that he is a priority too, since my father's matters often become more urgent.  That's the nature of living the sandwich generation life and one of the big challenges of later motherhood.

I just need to find some pleasure and downtime in the every day, despite my fear, concern, uncertainty, overwhelm, etc...but how to do that?  It's not easy for me.  I know that this too shall pass, as my beloved mom always said, and I know that no one lives forever.  But, I didn't see this coming for my dad.  I'm not saying this is the end for him, but life as he knew it, and we all did, changed in the blink of an eye.  He's tired.  We're all tired.

I guess all I can do at the end of the day is the best that I can do...whatever that is.  Be present for him.  My son.  My husband.  My friends. My sibling.  And myself.  And, if I need a good cry, let it out.

Sleepover by Robin Gorman Newman

My son had his first sleepover at a friend's house. 

While he embraced it, I got a quick dose of empty nest syndrome, and it caught me by surprise.

I didn't think that one night away would inspire such introspective thinking, but it did.

I've long joked about Seth being 8 going on 18, but knowing he was out of the house made that thought seem all the more real.  And, the more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that before I know it, he will be out of the house.  First to hang with his friends who he chooses over his parents...and then for good when he's able to stand on his own, two, lanky, independent Skecher's-clad feet.

No more will he run into my bedroom in the morning screaming "mommy, mommy"....jumping on my bed in glee to give me a hug.  No more will I have to trail behind him picking up streams of toys, underwear, food crumbs, Game Boy games, etc.  No more will I have to remind him endlessly to pee in the toilet versus all over the seat.  No more will I have to coax him into the bathtub using Mr. Bubble.  No more will I watch as the school bus comes and goes with him on it.  No more will I feel challenged to cook a meal that he'll eat with delight.  No more will he curl up his 55 lb. body on my lap as I sit at my laptop in my office.

Raising a child is hard work.  At times it feels thankless and exasperating.  But, I know it's not forever, though he'll always be my son, and his welfare will remain utmost in my mind.

Life is full of phases, and sometimes while we're in them, they appear to move slowly when in reality they fly by.  I find this especially true if I'm enjoying something.  In the blink of an eye, it's over.  Whereas if something is difficult or painstaking, I tell myself, "and this too shall pass," but I don't like to wish time away either...and you never know what is coming around the corner.  So, I try my best to stay in the moment, but we all have our moments that we want to end.

I don't want my son's youth to end.  He's already a big boy, and when I peruse some of his smaller size clothing and toys that I've saved, it feels a bit melancholy.

I know that more sleepovers will follow.  One day at our house as well, which will be a unique experience...having someone else's child sleep here. 

Nothing prepares you for parenthood, and nothing prepares you for the quiet when your child isn't at home.

There are times when I relish the quiet, when my son is at school.  But, then I know he will be walking in the door.

One day, his presence will feel more like that of a visitor.  As he matures, we are working more and more toward that. So, for today, I'm gonna take all the delicious hugs and kisses from Seth that come my way, and deliver them lovingly and generously in return.  There's no time like the present.   And, there's no better holiday present than my son's impish smile, and the pride I take in witnessing his development.

Here's wishing you and your family a wonderful, happy and healthy holiday and new year!! 
If you're on Twitter and a fan of this blog, follow us at @rgnewman.

Short Cut by Robin Gorman Newman

Seth has never liked getting his hair cut. 

When he was little, he'd hold a magazine up to his face as a shield to keep the clipped hair out of his eyes. 

His original haircutter, Jackie, would put him in a booster seat and do her best to try to distract him.  Knowing he'd get a lollipop afterwards offered some level of incentive, but it was still a challenging process.

Fast forward a number of years, and Seth no longer needs a booster seat.  He's grown a bit more tolerant of the haircutting process, though it will never rank high on his to do list.

Seth's most recent cut was with Phyllis.  I had decided to make a change because once when Jackie wasn't available, we opted for Phyllis and were pleased. 

This time, however, was different.  We walked into the salon, and I instructed Phyllis not to make it short...just to shape it up a bit.  I sat behind Seth's chair as she cut away.  I was both watching and reading a magazine, and before I knew it, they were done, Seth got up from the chair, turned around, and he took my breathe away....but not in a good way.

I was stunned.  She had layered his hair so much that he looked like a different child.  Still a looker.  But older.  I told her it wasn't what I had expected given the instructions I shared, and she said I had never stated not to layer it.

What was done was done.  I left disgruntled.  But, more importantly, I later realized that Seth didn't feel good about himself.  When we got home, his father looked at his cut and said "Seth...you got chopped!" This only added fuel to the fire.  Seth refused to take off his Navy baseball cap for two days.  At first Seth said he liked his new look, but then, thanks to Marc and I, he was no longer pleased.  He even picked up an old photo of himself and said he wanted to look like that again....back in the days when his style was shaped like a bowl.

I've always loved his hair....and it's a source of envy for many.  Straight, shiny, blonde.....each time I take him to the salon, women want to bottle his looks.  So, why would I want it largely cut off?

Eventually, we were able to coax Seth into abandoning his Navy cap, and he started to get compliments on his new look.  Marc and I got used to it, and while I'm not sure I entirely embrace it, I must admit, he does look like a young boy vs. a child.  And, it suits him.  He's maturing.

No mother wants to see their child grow up too fast.  And, I believe this was part of my initial shock and dismay.  He looked like 8 going on 18....and I don't want him to be a teenager tomorrow.  I know the years go by fast, and I am enjoying my little buddy.  I want to hold on to that.

While I recognize I might have to abandon his bowl cut of yesteryear, short layers or not, Seth will always be handsome in my eyes...inside and out.

ROBIN'S SHOW RECOMMENDATION: SPIDER-MAN

My son and I shared a milestone experience.  I had the opportunity to take him to see his first Broadway musical, and SPIDER-MAN was the chosen show.  It is a feast for the eyes, and we had a blast! 

SPIDER-MAN Turn Off The Dark (Michael Cohl and Jeremiah J. Harris, Producers), wows audience members at the Foxwoods Theater. The show features direction by Philip William McKinley (The Boy From Oz), original direction by Tony® Award-winner Julie Taymor (The Lion King, Across The Universe, Frida), music and lyrics by 22-time Grammy® Award-winners Bono and The Edge, and book co-written by Taymor, Glen Berger (Underneath The Lintel) and Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa (Fantastic Four and Spider-Man comics).

The cast is led by Reeve Carney as Peter Parker/Spider-Man, Rebecca Faulkenberry as Mary Jane Watson, Christina Sajous as Arachne, and Patrick Page as Norman Osborn/Green Goblin. The cast is stellar, particularly the boyish, raspy-voiced Carney and the comnanding, menacing Page with his demonic laugh and presence. 

Inspired by over 40 years of Marvel comic books, SPIDER-MAN Turn Off The Dark follows the story of teenager Peter Parker, whose unremarkable life is turned upside-down when he's bitten by a genetically altered spider and wakes up the next morning clinging to his bedroom ceiling. This bullied science-geek suddenly endowed with incredible powers soon learns, however, that with great power comes great responsibility as villains put both his physical strength and strength of character to the test.

The sets, staging, lighting and costumes rock!  When Spiderman and Green Goblin fly over you, it's a thrill you won't soon forget.  You can't get enough.  Your kids will love it, and it's a special experience to share.

The creative team includes Daniel Ezralow (Choreography and Aerial Choreography), Chase Brock (Additional Choreography), George Tsypin (Scenic Design), Academy Award®-winner Eiko Ishioka (Costume Design), Tony® Award-winner Donald Holder (Lighting Design), Jonathan Deans (Sound Design), Kyle Cooper (Projection Design), Julie Taymor (Mask Design), Campbell Young Associates/Luc Verschueren (Hair Design), Judy Chin (Makeup Design), Scott Rogers (Aerial Design), Jaque Paquin (Aerial Rigging Design), Howard Werner (Media Design), Louie Zakarian (Prosthetics Design), David Campbell (Arrangements and Orchestrations), Teese Gohl (Music Supervision and Vocal Arrangements), Paul Bogaev (Music Producer), and Kimberly Grigsby (Music Direction and Vocal Arrangements. Casting is by Telsey + Co.

SPIDER-MAN Turn Off The Dark‘s lead producers are Michael Cohl and Jeremiah J. Harris. Also producing are Land Line Productions, Hello Entertainment/David Garfinkle/Tony Adams, Sony Pictures Entertainment, Norton Herrick and Herrick Entertainment, Billy Rovzar and Fernando Rovzar, Stephen Bronfman, Jeffrey B. Hecktman, Omneity Entertainment/Richard G. Weinberg, James L. Nederlander, Terry Allen Kramer, S2BN Entertainment, Jam Theatricals, The Mayerson/Gould/Hauser/Tysoe Group, Patricia Lambrecht, and Paul McGuinness, by arrangement with Marvel Entertainment.

Tickets for SPIDER-MAN Turn Off The Dark are priced from $67.50 - $147.50, and can be purchased at Ticketmaster.com or by calling (877) 250-2929. Tickets are also available at the Foxwoods Theatre box office (213 West 42nd Street. 

Visit http://www.spidermanonbroadway.com/

Blink of an Eye by Robin Gorman Newman

                      
My father (above) had a stroke over a week ago, and his life changed in a flash, as did mine. In that moment, more than ever, I became acutely aware of the challenges of being a later in life mother with a young child and senior father.

G-d bless my dad. He's 93. My son is 8. I'm 51. Not the easiest of ages for any of us.

Despite the stroke, at 93, my dad hasn't for a long time felt as he'd like to. I've long tried to explain to him that I doubt anyone at 90+ feels as they'd like to, but that's never been comforting to him.

At 51, I'm in the throes of peri-menopause, and that's enough to wreak havoc on anyone.

My son, at 8, isn't little anymore but isn't grown either. He yearns to exude independence yet waivers at moments like bedtime when he asks his dad to lay with him as he falls asleep. I don't want him to grow up too quickly...though we are all aging as the clock ticks rapidly away.

Living in the moment is so key, and that's particularly evident in hindsight.

It took just seconds for my dad to lose much of his long term memory and suffer major language challenges. As bad as it is, it could have been SO much worse, and I'm grateful he didn't go down the path of major physical disability.

He'll get speech therapy, and even if his communication remains compromised, he can live a quality life. He may no longer be able to share the stories of days gone by that engaged so many. He loved to talk about growing up with famed (now deceased) ballplayer Phil Rizutto, and proudly wore a t-shirt I made up for his 90th birthday saying I PLAYED BALL WITH PHIL RIZUTTO. It was a great conversation opener when he wore it to his local pool club or on our annual family vacation to Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz. Now having a conversation for my father isn't second nature.

My dad, despite his many surgeries over the years, was somewhat of a medical marvel. When he'd meet with a doctor and they asked his health history, he could describe in copious detail what surgery he had, when and where, with exact precision. Even I can't do that. I never could. But, it came with ease to my dad. Those days are over.

When he first stroked he was calling everybody Robin. It struck me as curious. At our initial meeting with the neurologist, I was in a room full of Robins...only they were my sister Barbara and Brother-in-Law Terry. I had to identify myself to the doctor as the "real" Robin." It would have been comical if the situation weren't so serious.

Seth, my son, has been a trooper. He, too, became Robin, during a visit with grandpa. He's been my tower of strength, in addition to my husband, and close friends. Seth has always had an innate sensibility and awareness of knowing how to reach out to people when they need it the most. And, he manages to do it with a maturity beyond his years. After my first visit with my dad following the stroke, I put on a brave face in his house, assisting him and his aide, but once Seth and I stepped outside and walked back to the car, I lost it.. I needed to cry, and a flood of tears consumed me. In that moment, Seth reached out and assured me that grandpa would be ok....that everything would be ok...and I believe he believed it. I was so touched by his depth of compassion and ability to put aside whatever he felt to be present for me.

I am so grateful for Seth. He touches my heart in a way I never knew a child could. And, I'm so glad he's cultivated a relationship with my father that hopefully will live on forever.

My beloved mother passed away over 10 years ago due to complications from a major stroke, and it was a tragic death in a sterile hospital room. We weren't by her bedside at the time. She was all alone. A stroke is something I've always found so unbelievably cruel. Not that cancer isn't. But, a stroke is immediately life-altering, and it's just a question of to what extent.

I'm hopeful that my dad's situation will improve over time, and that G-d willing there won't be any repeat episodes, due to preventative medication measures. I treasure having my father in my life, and the last thing I want is for him to suffer greatly. No one deserves that, and certainly not a man who has done his best to be a caring father all these years. As a parent, no one is perfect, and I recognize that. But, he's my dad...the only dad I'll ever have....and he'll always have a place in my heart....even if I'm not the only Robin to him.

Hebrew School by Robin Gorman Newman

My son started Hebrew school this fall.

I didn't become Bat Mitzvah. In fact, I was a young Hebrew School dropout.  Until I had my tonsils removed, I had so many sore throats that attending became nearly impossible...or at least that's my recollection of why Hebrew School fell by the waistside.  True or not, I never thought twice about it.  I didn't have any girlfriends who attended, and I didn't know the difference.

As a family, we celebrated the primary Jewish holidays at home, and went to temple for the High Holidays. We exchanged Hanukkah gifts and lit the menorah.  We ate matzoh during Passover. My parents lit Yahrzeit candles for their parents, something you do in honor of the deceased.  That was pretty much the extent of religious observance in our household.

Fast foward some decades, and my son is now 8, and on the road to a Bar Mitzvah.  I'd like to think Seth, Marc and I are all on the path to an amazing trip to Jerusalem, where Seth partakes in a service at the Wall, and we later celebrate by floating in the Dead Sea and take in all the beauty, history and spirituality that is Israel. This is my dream Bar Mitzvah.  It would be hugely memorable.  But, I'm not at all certain that my husband and I are on the same page.

Marc was raised in a household by a mother born in Germany and rasied in Israel.  She speaks and writes Hebrew.  I do neither.  My husband and his brother both became Bar Mitvah.  And, my son's brother has already Bar Mitzvahed two of his three sons, with the third not far behind.

The Bar Mitvah for his middle son was lavish, to say the least. It was a swanky black tie county club affair, with separate dining and party areas for the kids and teens. A retired baseball player signed balls.  Multiple bands.  No doubt it cost a pretty penny, and was over in a flash, despite months of arduous planning and expense.

It was not at all my style. At this point in my life, I treasure the people I feel connected to, and to have a huge event to "keep up with the Jones" isn't something I care to host.  Yet, it is what many Jewish families do. Do we have to follow the pack?  Would the temple we belong to expect us to Bar Mitzvah there?  It brings in good money to synagogues, and fundraising is always important for them.  I suppose we could do a small kiddush after the Bar Mitzvah, but then Seth might compare it to friends of his who might have their own swanky party.

Time will tell.

In the meantime, we have to get through Hebrew school or some sort of Jewish study so he is capable of a Bar Mitzvah.  He attends on Tuesdays after school.  Our preference was a Sunday morning, but the Reformed temple we joined didn't offer that.  After school isn't ideal.  It's a lot of concentration to expect after a full day in third grade, followed by homework, bath, dinner, etc.  The evening takes on a bit of a frenzy.  I agreed to try out the school and see how Seth does, with the understanding that if it doesn't work for me, we'll explore private studies.  So far, he's been a trooper, though a reluctant one at times. 

I know that attending synagogue is very important to some people.  I have a non-Jewish friend whose son attends Hebrew school (his father is Jewish), and she has embraced the religion and gets much out of Torah study with the rabbi.  She loves to learn and share the wisdom she takes in with her son.  I admire that. I do believe in spirituality and have yet to integrate the temple into my regular activities, but who knows?!  Maybe it will take on greater meaning to me?  I am making an effort to be present for special activities there, to show my son that this can be a fun family experience.

Ultimately, Seth will know way more than I about Judaism. He'll share that understanding with his father.  How he chooses to apply it to his life and future family will be his own decision.  We'll know that we raised him with some level of tradition, and what's important about a Bar Mitzvah is that he will be a young man recognized in the Jewish community, and that, alone, makes the occasion momentous, regardless of how or where it's performed.. My little buddy (who will always be little in my eyes) will be growing up.  He's come a long way since his Bris, and I treasure witnessing his development every day.