The Day Before
Growing up my mom and I would drive around and look at houses. The big ones with expansive yards and meticulous landscapes. The pretty ones with ornate facades making her pull her foot from the gas so we could take it all in, as much as possible, between the gaps of privacy bushes and flashy gated entrances. The ones we could never have, or afford. We didn’t drive by with a sense of longing, rather appreciation. My most cherished memories are equally divided between winding country roads that gave way to sprawling estates and weekend mornings chasing down the torrential flood waters that commonly occur in Texas at springtime. Then again, there are a thousand more memories that come to mind when I think about smiles gathered forever etched in my mind and on my heart during my formative years.
We didn’t have it all, but we had enough. We had infectious and palatable love. Laughter, joy and copious amounts of improvisation during the hard times. Mom always made up for what was lacking monetarily by providing a surplus of deep and real affection. I learned early on the best moments in life cost nothing. Days on the porch listening for thunder, waiting to be mesmerized by the lighting that followed. All free, but abundant in terms of priceless possessions to this day I still carry with me.
Parenting Milestone
Yesterday, I encountered the most challenging moment in my motherly journey at the innocent intentions and words that recklessly spilled from the mouth of Graham, my 10-year-old. When we moved to Florida we chose a great place to raise kids. Great schools and those same meticulously maintained lawns, surrounded by families where moms and dads live together, each chasing careers to provide the best life possible. My kids do not know what it means to go without or what life looks like outside of an affluent suburban neighborhood. In their mind this is normal. I know it is absolutely, not normal.
“Mom, our house is one of the smallest in Heathrow.”
“Graham, that is not true, and even if it was, what is wrong with that?”
“Mom, it’s just that the layout is wrong.”
Everything in me tried to remind me I was the parent. My response is everything. He is 10. Despite that feeling of knowing what I should say and let it go, I couldn’t let it go. For what seems like the 20th time I reminded him a home is built on love and what you feel when you are inside is what matters. Not the size or the contents.
Divorce
For 2.5 years since the divorce, I have not once said anything negative about their father. Something we agreed upon early in our collaborative process that we knew was of utmost importance. A level of respect we give one another even when we disagree, which is rare, but still happens. Any divorced person can attest to this.
I let it out. My exact words. None of which I am proud of, but real life. Without restraint, the words flew from mouth…
“Graham, I work my ass off to provide for us three (yes, I said ass). I know our house is nothing like dad’s house (the boys do not recall me living there which I have learned is a blessing even though it stings like heck and truth be told, it still looks the exact same in terms of how I made it a home). I continued, “I do not want a big house. I do not want to clean a house that big, and what in the world would I do with that much space when you two are not here with me? All the stuff and status of a house are not important to me. That’s why I left. Because the “stuff” doesn’t matter to me. It never did. Your dad and I are different.”
I did not directly throw him under the bus, but indirectly, I did. Enough that my sweet boy caught on and knew exactly what my words meant. I looked in the backseat to see the same tears falling down my face were also rolling down his cheeks. It was a moment. I exited the car and walked inside. He went to his room. I sat at the kitchen island and the tears continued. Sometimes I wonder what in the world did I do? Why did I leave?
I never knew it would be this hard. I never knew what was seemingly easy and effortless before would feel like this. In my mind's eye, everything has been downgraded in terms of material things. But I know, in so many ways, my soul has been upgraded. I cannot begin to count the lessons I have learned and how incredibly differently I have seen the world in the last 2.5 years. As if I was always destined to go back to my roots and what mattered. I have never been ashamed of where I came from. I recognize more than ever that the life I knew as a child is the essence of who I am. It has reminded me on the darkest of days what matters most.
Love. Love is it.
Love is simple, but more difficult than we understand. Every day in society, the word “love” is flippantly tossed around to describe a meme, a Starbucks coffee, or a new pair of shoes. To love something so deeply and wholly is another level. One I am continuously trying to teach and emulate for my children.
Last night when I tucked Graham in bed (after a few evening hugs and nonchalant, it never even happened moments) I bent down and kissed his forehead. I told him, “I am not mad at you, the world is just so much bigger than what your 10-year-old mind can comprehend. Sweet dreams. I love you. Goodnight.” His response, ‘Goodnight Mommy, I love you too”.
Reflection
I climbed in bed and all I could do was self-reflect and ask myself, what is my role in all of this? What is my responsibility, not his? After all, I am the adult in the relationship. My reaction is everything. If I scold them for voicing their opinions or innocent, childlike thoughts they will go silent. I never want that. We are a transparent bunch, nothing is off limits. We have “big kid” talks where we sit on the floor and hold hands. I have never shielded them from the world or the freedom to express their feelings about our divorce through their eyes. This openness has healed us all, time and time again. Nothing of codependence, instead each of us sorting through the transition in our own way. It looks different for each of us.
April 10, 2024
Life as normal. Wake up, hop in the bath together, splash water, exit soaking wet leaving a trail of drops along the way as the go get dressed. A child’s forgiveness and unconditional love is awe-inspiring. No grudges, no mention of what happened. Just love; pure, sweet, innocent love. Sometimes I think God gives kiddos hearts 3x times the size so they are not jaded and cynical of the world. They believe people are inherently good and love abounds.
School. Soccer. Dinner at our favorite pizza place.
On our short drive home, I heard a random comment from the backseat, 100% out of context to the Morgan Wallen song we were singing out loud. After repeating himself, I still could not decipher. I turned off the radio and asked, “G, what did you say”?
“Mom, you are built like no one else.”
I chuckle, then respond, “Graham, are you talking about physique or my brain.” (I like using adult words and concepts). His response, “Both! No one is like you.” To which I remark, “is that a good thing”?
“Yes, just be you.” Just like you tell me, “Graham just be you. Don’t care about what anyone else thinks.”
2 Minutes Before
My kids love them some YouTube. Not the normal kid stuff or things I am overly concerned about them consuming. Instead, they love fishing videos. #FloridaMan to the 10th degree. They understand influencers. We buy things, mainly fishing stuff because someone successfully caught something with a certain bait. We also buy the latest Messi cleats and Mr. Beast chocolate bars. It’s a thing.
“Mom, how many followers do you have?” they asked. “On what”, I replied. “Instagram”?
“Haha, not many, I don’t really post on IG”, I responded.
“Where do you post?”
“Mostly on LinkedIn.”
“What’s LinkedIn?”
“It’s like a social media page for business stuff.”
“Oh, so how many followers do you have?”
I stated an approximate number (remember that childlike innocence of freeform thought). They were not impressed. “That’s nothing compared to the people we watch and follow.”
Credit Your Inspiration
I parked in the driveway and told them I had to run inside and write down what Graham just said. “Why”, he asked. I told him that he inspired me and I needed to get all of this out of my head before it went away. He followed me inside. I opened up my laptop and he asked, “Do you want me to tell you again what I said”? “Yes, yes I do, buddy.” He stood by my side and repeated it. I typed away. He told me once I was done that he wanted to read it. “Absolutely”, I said. In the background, I hear my 7-year-old artistic son tell me he wants to draw a picture of the story I am writing. My heart explodes.
Tomorrow, I am due to share my writing and await the inspirational illustration that follows.
Not Knowing What In The Hell You Are Doing is Okay!
I wish there was a manual for navigating divorce. I know there are many, but as a great friend of mine has taught me, your divorce is one divorce. Yes, there are tons of things I have read to ease and work through the situation, but this transition in my life is uniquely mine and uniquely ours.
I think so much of this is true in the realm of leadership. You can read all the books possible. Study concepts, theories and approaches, but what you know to do is not always how you respond. Humans are not robots. Each situation is different and the only way to know what you will do is actually go through each scenario and reflect on your response.
Just Be You. The Real Authentic You
I am not sure there is anything more that people want from a leader than for them to be themselves. The real you. The authentic you. The vulnerable you. The messy, trying to figure it out, life happens you. Relatable and human.
Cheers to figuring out life one day, one lesson at a time. The beauty of self-discovery is uniquely yours. Something you go deep inside to find. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it surprises the hell out of you and sometimes, almost always, it turns your worst days into your best days!
