Musings on Becoming One's Parents

Last night, as I sat in the Pediatric Emergency Dept. with Maia, it struck me how much I'm becoming my parents. I was sitting beside Maia's bed and rubbing her little back to relax her, something my mother did to me countless times as I was growing up. (Gosh, I think the last time I remember her rubbing my back was when I was sick as a dog while home from college on break! But I digress....)

Late last week I was thinking similar thoughts as I quoted my father to Chance, telling him what my dad always said to me when someone was picking on me.

I've often been struck by how much my parenting is evolving into a hybrid of my parent's styles and that of my own, but it never fails to bemuse me when I hear my mother or father's words tumbling out of my own mouth.

I've also come to realize how much of my pain they must have shared with me. As I listened to Chance talk about the boys treating him badly on the playground I felt his pain and remembered my own childhood angst. And as I sat beside Maia rubbing her back I thought that maybe my mom rubbed my back to reassure herself as much as to soothe me.

Whatever their motives, having children has made me realize how deeply my parents love(d) me. I look at my two and wonder if someday, far from now, they'll look at their own children and suddenly realize that their mean ol' mom loved them with the same fierceness they love their own children. Maybe, as they rub their backs.

Going Home

Home is a funny thing: I've lived out here for *gulp* 21 years and, yet, when I talk about going to Granville it's always "Home". I guess you never truly lose that sense of hominess (is that even a word? the spelling checker doesn't think so) that comes with growing up in one place for 18+ years. Oh well...I know I'm rambling but cut me some slack - it's 4:45 am!

One thing that's struck me many times since moving away so many years ago is that I really enjoy going back to visit. Of course a major part of it is that my family is there; I'm fortunate to have a family that I really enjoy spending time with. But there's something about that area that I love and truly miss now that I don't live there any more.

When I was in high school I longed to get away from Granville and the cliques, gossip, and small town feeling that everyone knew your business. I couldn't cough on my walk home from school without my parents knowing by the time I arrived home! I left as soon as I could to attend college in Burlington and then Rochester searching for that larger city in which I could find all that Granville didn't have to offer. Although now that I'm older and raising children of my own, I find myself nostalgic for a town where you know many of those you see at the store and where you feel your kids are safe because Art &Dolly, Curly & Min, Sam & Louise and so many others know them and will look out for them just as if they were your parents, too.

While I'm waxing nostalgic, though, let me tell you a little about my hometown of Granville. It's nestled in between the foothills of the Adirondacks and the Green Mountains of Vermont. Everywhere you look there are hills. It's truly beautiful. There are fields of corn, cows grazing, and slate quarries nearly everywhere you turn. Although it may not be the most economically rich place it makes up for it in views, heritage and friendliness.

This weekend I returned with a trunk full of souvenirs - roughly a dozen pieces of red, purple, and green slate slabs for Sean's garden path project. They are pieces of home and, in a way, pieces of me.