Posts Tagged ‘spanking’

It Was Good

January 15, 2014

It was hard.

But in the end, it was good.

Now, it’s good to be home again.

Home in San Francisco.

“Next time, I will come to you,” my mom said, “are there any hotels around you that are reasonable?”

There are.

And I am happy to have her.

It will be some time, she’s older and aging and that was hard to see, my mom, moving so slowly, her hips and knees kaput.

She informed me that she has to have a double hip and double knee replacement.

Jesus, lord.

That is a lot of surgery.

But when it’s done and she has had some time to be convalescent, then yes, a visit.  I would love to have my mom for a visit.

There was a time, and not too long ago that the thought would have had me running for the hills.

But people change.

I changed.

And now I want to continue having a relationship with my mom.

I would even like to travel with her.

There are things, in Paris, I would love to show her–her favorite artist is Monet–like the Musee Monet de Montmarttan in the 16th.  Or the Orangerie with all the Monet Water Lillies and scenes from Giverney.

That is off in the future and hazy as all get out, but there and I feel a nice there, like yeah, this could happen.

And the gift of perspective is huge, she and I have both changed.

My sister has changed too.

And I did not let myself acknowledge it or pay tribute to the emotions, but they did come out a bit when I was chatting with my housemate about the trip.

It was hard.

Hard to see where she and I separated, went our own ways, had our own challenges.  I felt like I was just sort of a witness, a bystander to a drive by hit and family run, that I got a little bowled over by it all.

It was a lot to pack into the two and a half short days I was there, down in Florida, down in golf cart land, senior citizen play land, with all the pastel ladies and white-haired gents, socks and sandals and little dogs running about, and yes, the pink flamingos on the lawns.

It was good.

Good to hug my sister, see her growth, hell, see my growth, and just be a witness.

It felt tender and sweet and fragile.

But I feel just like my roots grasped new soil, so too are hers, and that is a wonderful thing to witness.

Even, if after a while, I was done with it and ready to go back to where I belong.

I was so excited to be home, the sun shining, my friend picking me up at the airport, a cold apple on the dashboard waiting for me, which was eaten immediately!

“Help yourself to as much as you want,” the stewardess said as she walked along the aisle with a box full of foil packages of salted, sweet, crunchy, crap for snacking.

“Thank you, I am fine,” I said and went back to my Naked smoothie and apple I had procured in the airport.

Then I nodded off, my computer battery had died, midway through the movie I was watching and I was done with reading my magazine.  I snuggled into my head pillow and dozed off.

Only to be awakened by the screaming child throwing things at his mother a little while later.

Ah, yes, that was a fun time.

I stayed out of it, but if I had heard the woman threaten to take the child into the bathroom and spank him one more time I was going to get up and spank her.

“Do you want a spanking?” She demanded, “sit down!”

The child sniffled, whined, and then screamed some more.

Oh dear lord.

Not my place, not my place, not my place.

I just did my best to ignore it and spent a lot of time drifting in and out of nap land, periodically waking up from a holler, a shoe kick, a thrown cup ( and a batman doll, robin figurine, Woody the Cowboy toy, phone, and shoes), thank god you’re not mine, kid, I thought.

Then, well, she’s just doing the best she can.

Not a fan of people who use spanking as a tactic to punish their children, but well, it’s not my business, now is it?

Actually I am really opposed to people who hit their kids, but what was I going to do?

Give her a lecture on the plane.

Explain that her lack of boundary setting was the reason for the child’s outlandish behavior?

Nope.

But as I watched the dynamics between my mom, my sister, my mom’s partner, and myself, I see how those dramas play out over time and where they can change and perhaps develop into something less than a drama and move toward healthy, loving, relationships.

Today’s principle?

Patience.

Patience with the kiosk at the airport that wanted to charge me for checking in.

Patience with the lines at security.

Patience for the tired mom and weary child.

Patience for the tired mom and the weary child, me.

Love for them all.

Sister, mother, self.

Hard work.

Yup.

Worth the effort?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

Will I be headed down to Florida any time soon for another repeat?

Probably not, I won’t rule it out, but I feel like this trip was worth it, the suiting up and the showing up.

And as I sat watching the family eat dinner, the niece sitting too shy on the couch to join us at the table, my sister and her husband, my mother and her partner, I saw that, yeah, life is messy, and hard, and difficult.

But when one person starts showing up, others do too.

I can join in the mess.

I don’t have to sit in it, but I can partake for a little while.

Then, get up, dust myself off, hop a plane, and remember that I did it for them.

Not for me.

This was not about me and that was a good thing to recognize.

Hard.

But yes.

Good.

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