Parenting | BulgingButtons

June 3, 2014
by BulgingButtons 8 Comments

An Open Letter to Whomever Stole My Son’s Bike

Dear Bike Stealer,

I use the term “dear” only because it’s a convention. I’m not feeling as though you’ve endeared yourself to me or my kin in any way, but be that as it may, the term “dear” stands.

I hope you really need that bicycle you stole today outside of the Jewish Community Center down at the end of the strip mall. I know that today is blistering hot, so I have to assume that you were out early to avoid the heat of the day. You were able to seize the opportunity to take the bike right off the bike rack between 8:00 and 10:00 am while its owner, my teenage son, was inside volunteering at the summer camp. He noticed it missing when they came outside to load up for their field trip.

It occurs to me, Bike Stealer, that maybe you’ve never been on a field trip. Maybe you’ve never been to summer camp. Maybe you’ve never, until today, even had a bike. I don’t know a thing about you, but deep in my heart I want to believe that your situation is dire. I want to believe that you are someone to whom life has dealt a crappy hand. I want to believe that you need that bike in order to get yourself to a job every day so that you can earn some money to support yourself. I want to believe that you struggled with the decision to steal it, but did so only because you felt like you were out of options.

My son has options. He can ride the small old bike that this one replaced (we planned on donating it, but just hadn’t gotten around to it yet). He can ride my bike, which fits him better than his old one. He can get a ride with me or my sweetheart. He has a plan B, a plan C, and plans D & E. Maybe you don’t.

Or maybe that’s not your story at all. Maybe you’re just someone who enjoys taking advantage of situations that present themselves. That bike rack is a little out of the way. I’m sure nobody was looking. That lock may have been easy to open. I’m sure it wasn’t the highest quality. Maybe you felt entitled. Maybe you felt that the universe was offering you a gift for being in the “right” place at the “right” time. Maybe.

Here’s the thing. You got a bike today. It’s a nice one. It was a gift from his grandparents and he had only ridden it about a half dozen times. You might as well enjoy it while you can, because if I know anything I know this: Karma is a bitch. Like I said before, Bike Stealer, I hope you need that bike, because if you truly do maybe Karma will cut you a little slack, even if you did knowingly take something that wasn’t yours. If not, though, good luck. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.

Sincerely,

The Mom of the Kid Whose Bike You Stole

May 28, 2014
by BulgingButtons 5 Comments

Five More Simple Things That Make Me Happy

1. Rediscovering my i-Tunes library, which I thought was lost in the cloud forever. Hello Barenaked Ladies, Goldfrapp, Shiny Toy Guns, and Big Audio Dynamite. It’s great to hear from you again.

2. Laughing a genuine belly laugh, like I did today with good friends.

3. Excellent service at a restaurant, any restaurant.

4. Accepting genuine compliments about my son from his supervisors at his summer job.

5. Being able to stay up as late as I want without having to worry about an early alarm. I am SO not a morning person!

May 11, 2014
by BulgingButtons 15 Comments

I Never Wanted to Be a Part Time Mother

For those of you who celebrate, Happy Mother’s Day. For those of you for whom Mother’s Day rips open your heart, I’m so very sorry. And for the rest of you, well, happy Sunday.

Growing up I would go on hospital rounds with my father to see his patients. The nurses thought it was cute, and would often ask me if I was going to be a nurse when I grew up. They never thought to ask me if I was going to be a doctor. Anyway, I always answered no. I knew that I wasn’t cut out for healthcare, even at an early age.

I wasn’t sure what profession I wanted to pursue, even into my college years. I had some ideas of professions I wasn’t suited for, but the right one didn’t just jump out at me.

The obvious choice would have been educator, but I couldn’t do that because 1. I was too smart, and 2. I was indoctrinated to believe that “those who can, do and those who can’t, teach.” How foolish I was to believe those two falsehoods. Good thing I got over that and eventually found my calling.

This isn’t about teaching, though, it’s about growing up and becoming a mother. No matter what occupation I was headed for, I always knew I wanted to be a mother. I could picture it in my head. There would be trips to the park, and learning to read. There would be visits to the beach and working on school projects together. There would be long conversations in the car and Disney movies. I was cut out for it. Well, maybe not the baby part so much, but the rest of it.

Fast forward several years, and not only am I teaching but I have a son. He’s twelve, and I love him with my whole heart. All of the things I envisioned have come to pass, and there’s so much more ahead. Being his mother is part of the fiber of who I am. Then things change.

I did not choose divorce. I did not choose to dissolve my family. It is something that I didn’t anticipate. I didn’t fight it either, because by the time it happened it was overdue, but I would not have set those wheels in motion.
I meant my wedding vows. I’m one who hangs on to things longer than she perhaps should. Still, it happened. In many ways it was a relief. But it one way it was devastating. I would no longer be a full time mother.

How is that possible? How could I continue on as if life is normal when I’ve gone from a family unit to all alone? My son needed to be with his father some of the time, I understood that, but I hated it. When he was with his father, he wasn’t with me. He wasn’t home. He was gone. I couldn’t parent him if he wasn’t there. I didn’t choose that. My heart was ripped apart.

I could stand not being married. There were even some advantages to it. In the long run, almost four years later, it was obviously for the best, at least for me. But what about for my son? Instead of two full time parents he has two part time parents. Not the same. Not good enough, in my opinion. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry that he doesn’t get either of us all the time. He deserves his parents. All kids do. And parents deserve their kids. At least good parents do. And I’m a good parent, just ask my son.