Scratchings: Lemonade in a Wine Glass

Sometimes moms and kids need a little distance to appreciate one another.

After three weeks of near constant summertime togetherness, this mom received a reprieve in the form of a weekend writers’ conference. I came home every night, but otherwise was able to revel in three days of “grown-up” conversations about art and business, a very rare occurrence for me. Despite dad’s undivided attention and care, apparently mom’s absence did make the kiddos’ hearts grow fonder. Every night I came home to loving appeals asking why that conference had to be “SOOOO LOOONG.”

Surprisingly, the biggest guilt trip came not from my preschooler or even from hubby, but from my eldest, the “tweener” who has begun to display annoying hints of the teenage years to come. For example, lately a simple request to stop watching TV and do his chores results in the “full-body hang” to illustrate the unfairness of life. Virtually everything Baby Brother does is annoying. Somehow Tweener fails to appreciate how much BB worships him, causing Mom to want to scream, “Someday you’ll wish ANYONE thought you were that worthy of adulation!”

So it was rather refreshing to realize that Tweener missed having old Mom around. Upon returning home from the first half-day of conferencing, Tweener asked if we could stay up and watch an old movie together. Within the past few months, watching old movies has become a special treat for Tweener and myself. Despite having an extensive collection of old black and white movies, I rarely get to watch them due to time constraints and lack of interested companions (hubby falls asleep ten minutes into any flick made before 1960). So I was delighted when Tweener asked me to introduce him to the classic Universal horror films, a hobby that soon expanded into other old movies. He's even willing to sit through silent films and really bad Ed Wood flicks! What a champ!

On Friday night, as we prepared to snuggle on the couch and take in Revenge of the Creature , Tweener asked for a glass of lemonade in "a fancy glass" to make the event more special. I dutifully obliged, serving up lemonade in a wine glass for him and a Fresca spritzer for myself. We clinked our glasses together in a joyous toast as we watched the Creature from the Black Lagoon try to forceably obtain a human girlfriend.

By Saturday evening, Tweener was even more perturbed that Mom had spent "AAALLLL DAAAAYYY" at this conference doing "BOORRING" grown-up stuff. Initially, I was too absorbed in nervousness over an impending profesional interview to indulge in Tweener's dramatics. Having not had a face-to-face job-related interview of any kind in years, I was really wondering why I was even wasting my time getting nervous over this certain-to-fail effort.

But Tweener's whining kept infringing on my internal stress. "Why do you have to go to this conference?" he beseeched.

"To meet people who could help me get jobs," I explained.

"But you already have a job!" he declared, still not fully appreciating the "gig" concept of my freelance writing career.

"Well, this will hopefully help me get more work," I explained again. "And it might help me become a better writer."

"But you're already a great writer! You're the best writer! You don't need to get any better!" he insisted.

At that point I gave up. Why burst his bubble by explaining how flawed Mom is? Instead, I reveled in the knowledge that Tweener likes to think Mom is the best at what she does and still misses her when she's gone.

I kept that thought with me as I headed into my interview on Sunday. Years ago a kindly grad-school mentor advised all of his underlings, "Remember, no matter what happens to you in this program, you're Momma will still love you!" [Depends on the mom, of course, but we all got the gist.] So on Sunday, as I headed into the interview, I focused on that advice. "No matter what happens, my babies still love me." By design the interview would be limited to 10 minutes. It was only 10 short minutes out of a very full life. "Relax and enjoy the practice," I told myself.

Suffice to say: Mom aced the meeting.

It would not have happened were it not for Tweener's reminder that there is more to life than some stranger's first impression. The incident made me realize that my son is lemonade in a wine glass: somewhat sweet, somewhat tart, but always refreshing. Sometimes, that’s just what Mom needs.

Yours in Sisterhood,
VB