Growing Up Savvy Posts

There is nothing like new surroundings or people to break up the monotony of everyday. Hubby’s parents were down for a visit this weekend and we couldn’t have been happier to share some of Sophia’s firsts with them. First tuna sandwich, first ice cream cone (with homemade ice cream)

and…

first swim at the pool club (this year).

What is a family? I previously explored the definition here concluding that we are born into families and learn how to form our own as part of growing up. When we grow up and start families of our own, how do our newly acquired families fit in? In other words do we become family members of our spouse’s family? If so, does it happen gradually or instantaneously — as soon as we hear the newly married couple pronounced man and wife? And are we strangers until that moment?

I am certain of two things: not all families are the same and that I know how this happens in my family. Familial status is not granted in any royal decree the morning of the wedding, but much rather earned over time. By the time my parents walked me and my sister down the isle, our husbands had already become very much part of our families. They are loved, respected, and cared for the very same way my sister and I are. There is simply no distinction. They voice their opinions, offering compliments and harsh criticisms as they wish and are considered family members with full rights.

Life isn’t certain: jobs can be lost, engagements and vows of marriage broken. What is certain, and what cannot be taken away, are hope and faith in yourself. Sometimes you just have to have pride, to read between the lines and know that no matter what or who life throws your way, you’ll take the high road if not for yourself, most certainly for your young family. Out of respect, because to you, family is what matters — that is what my family taught me.

Music has a magical effect on people – it sets the mood, inspires us and helps us think things through. We often see people working out with headphones securely plugged in. They say it helps them get through a longer, more rigorous workout. I rely on music to zone out at work and write. Music was the best relief for my then fiancee and me as we planned our wedding; We mastered the foxtrot and a few other dances just in time for our wedding.

I must be old now (or old enough) that I can identify periods of life by the songs I preferred. I’ve started to get back into enjoying old Russian tunes. Perhaps I am a little melancholy since that part of me, my identity are slipping away by the day. Back in 1994, I wished only to be like all the other kids, to not be different and wanted nothing to do with my heritage, my Russian identity. As time went on and I navigated through my teenage years and young adulthood, my fear dissipated and I didn’t mind being a little bit different. I was finally able to harmonize the coexistence of my Russian and American selves. I developed friendships and relationships with people who celebrated my uniqueness. I heard someone say once that their father who is a Soviet-block immigrant was very lucky to have married a girl from a nice American family. I was disappointed to hear such an attitude toward immigrants, especially from a son of an immigrant, but relieved when my husband said that he was fortunate to find a girl who wasn’t average, run of the mill or typical.

In three years, I’ll have spent two thirds of my life in America. I fear that my uniqueness is fleeting… here now, gone soon enough. Sometimes we can’t stop time, its toll on us and how our experiences and life alters us, but we can slow it down. I started playing Russian kid’s tunes for Sophia and she couldn’t be happier. I grew up with those songs and am happy to see her enjoy them as much as I remember I did back in the day. I look at Sophia and know with absolute certainty that she will be an American. I also know that she will grow up keenly aware of her heritage and appreciation for those who came before her.

I rush home, run in tossing my shoes haphazardly. Swiftly sneaking upstairs before I am discovered, I change into sweats and run down to greet a child excited to be read to and play. Plopping down on the floor, thirsty and still overwhelmed from the hideous commute, I smile and invite Sophia to pick a book to read. How can I explain to a 20-month old that all that I need is 30 minutes, a glass of water and I’ll be reinvigorated. Besides, how can I afford 30 minutes having gotten home at 4 and knowing that bath-time is at 8? The guilt is immeasurable but it is worth it. For me. It is worth it for me.

You see, I’ve had a few reasons to re-evaluate my persuasion as a mom working outside the house (a stay at home mom is still a working mom, trust me). I feel mild pangs of jealousy over both friends and family who are staying home with children. I have, still do and probably always will. My four hours a day plus the weekends aren’t going to compare to their 10-12 hour days with their little ones. At times, I felt like I am missing out on Sophia’s everything and will never get that time back. But then, I realized that no matter how much I want to hold on to her, hold her, hug her and have her be all mine, she has and will continue to grow, flourish and pull away establishing herself as her own self.

I realize that she turns 2 this fall. She will soon enough join other toddlers and pre-schoolers at a nursery school and before I know it, I’ll be taking her to her first day at kindergarden. As Sophia begins to branch out and fill her days with extra-curricular activities, what will I do? I could and probably would take on a more active role in her school, volunteer, and apply my well-polished technical skills to something. I’d go on, until she and any other children we may have, are well into their teenage years. Time flies — of this I am sure. But then, when the kids are grown, when they leave, and embark on establishing their own lives, what will I do? My husband will hopefully still have his job and his career, and I will finally have time for tennis and golf lessons, lunches with girlfriends and the spa.

My education and degreeS will curdle faster than milk and I will be outpaced by those who come after. I want Sophia to look at me as a freshman in college and know right then and there that I worked. This isn’t to say that mothers who work in the home aren’t working. But most kids (and some husbands) don’t consider that to be “real” work. The kids will eventually realize this when they are parents… the husbands, well that’s another story altogether ;-).

If I have realized anything about life it is that you, yourself, and your worth should never diminish or disappear as you navigate life’s seasons. You should always remember that and that in itself is a critical lesson for our children.