Mother's Bag of All Knowledge

Nothing tugs at a mother's heartstrings like a call from her inconsolate kid who has just come to the realization that she may have bitten off more than she can chew in a particular university class.

The compulsion to talk and offer advice is a no no. I've watched enough of Supernanny to know that my daughter wants me to be her sounding board, that I should shut up and listen. So, I listen and because she is hyperventilating, I did deep into my Mother's Bag of All Knowledge to find the cure. We go through the breathing exercises on the phone together. She takes a sip of water and I listen as she delivers her dilemma in spurts. Sometimes I can't actually make out what she is saying. Because I know it is important to her to get it all out, i don't interupt her to let her know that i didn't quite catch all.

She repeats herself and then I prompt her to come up with a solution. Not a solution for world peace, just a solution on how to get through until Thursday and the midtem in another class. She knows it's not the end of the world, but to realise that you can't do something, and not for the lack of trying, is a humbling eureka moment. Poor thing. There is only one way out of this and that is straight through it. Sure, it will hurt. And then hurt some more.

You try your best with what ever God-given talents you have and then there are no recriminations.

I didn't have anyone to tell me that all those years ago. I'm not sure it would have made any difference to how I managed or didn't manage.

I tell my daughter now. This too shall pass.
It's not like your best boy was run over by a car, I tell her, trying to give her some perspective. When she didn't chew my head off, I knew she would survive.

She goes over what she'll she do - her plan of action. And while there are lots of loose ends, lots of unanswered questions, I know she won't be throwing herself off the Golden Gate Bridge today. Her voice has returned to normal, her gasping for breath has ceased.

Just another day at the office...

Joy

I had forgotton what it was like. The wild-eyed enthusiasm of a 3-yr old can't be beaten. All the questions. No sooner has one been answered than another one follows. Non-stop it was, last night. Non stop. I'm not complaining. I'm still in awe. Completely guileless, perfectly innocent, not yet ruined by TV, school or adults, the little fellow took me on a walk around my own house, examining the masks. Who is that? Where is it from? Is it heavy? Could I carry it? Can I touch it?
We did the tour three times. On the final tour, another Auntie accompanied us. He shared his newfound information with her. "This one is a King. See his crown."
We ended the evening over cheesecake, or, rather, me watching him put it away like noone's business. All is right with the world.

Dr. Mom

One child calls from the Pacific to tell me about a Dr. Sade who tried to pry hardened ear wax from her ear without first administering an anesthetic. I was imagining him, in his turn-of-the-century (20th) office holding her down on a bench with his right knee. Fortunately, she had the wherewithal to brush his hand away before he either punctured her ear drum or caused her excruciating pain. Needless to say, the ear incident isn’t quite over yet. And now she's gone off to Vietnam where we'll have no contact with her for two weeks. Two whole weeks! The other late night phone call came from the Atlantic side. Child claims she is dying from the flu, in a hotel room with ne'er a Nurse Nightingale in sight. It's past midnight there and she has to bribe the doorman to go to the nearest Walgreens in search of various cold remedies. her voice is weak and sickly enough to make my stomach turn. I know she will survive if she keeps the fever down and if she takes fluids. She doesn't always take my advice nor does she bother to call me back when she is feeling better. Ah, the price one pays for this not so medical degree!