Change

Some things never change.

One of the weirdest things about moving away and moving back to Maryland (back to our same house in the same neighborhood in the same town) is that even in three short years, we’ve changed.  In some ways, it’s obvious… one set of neighbors did not even recognize our children, (who’ve they’ve seen in the yard since they were babies) and wondered who had moved in.  Jaelin, Eli and Wilo have each grown half a foot in the last three years.   I’ve grown too.  I am no longer a young mom, pushing a stroller to the playground and chilling at the library story time on Thursday mornings. I too, have changed.  I’m working full-time (and loving it), but I’m also worrying about boyfriends and high school grades and who stole the shoes from my closet. 

I always wanted to be a parent – partially because it’s what you do, partially because I saw it as my chance to create and mold something of my own, but I now I find myself surprised that my kids are creating and changing me.  In those first few weeks of parenthood, everyone exclaimed over how little baby Jaelin was, a new life, a 6-lb. malleable being that I would nurture with every word and decision that I made.  It was overwhelming.  I’m a book nerd, so I read everything I could on sleep, feeding, and potty training.  Soon after I had Eli, I had to start relying on less information from other sources and trust my instincts too.   

Now, after 13 years of experience, I know that reading is not the way to learn all the best ways to raise your child.  Even at a few hours old (and maybe even before birth), some aspects of a child’s personality, their strengths and weaknesses, are already set.   The next 18 years are not just about us raising them, but also about them raising us into capable, loving parents.  We have to change and GROW, together dealing with the differences between us.  Just because we are physically responsible for our children (for 18 years at least), doesn’t mean that we can mold them, like play dough, into what we want or think we want in a child.    At some point, those infants become people we chat with and listen to and THEY CHANGE US AS PARENTS.  The sooner we accept that, the better it is for our relationship.  I want them to become independent adults, and as a parent, I want to have loving, honest relationships with my kids. 

Both Kumar and I have changed by being a parent to Eli, our son.  Kumar had to learn all about football, not because he cared about it, but to relate to his sports’ minded son.  We both suffer through Jaelin’s Disney shows, like Backstage, because we don’t like the kids watching too much TV alone.  My parents have also changed by being a big part of my kids’ everyday life.  You haven’t lived (or laughed) until you’ve seen my dad playing Just Dance.  He actually practices while the kids are at school, so he won’t lose (He’s a bit competitive).  My 69-year-old Indian mom text messages and plays basketball with the kids regularly.  We all are well versed with Barbies, water bottle flipping, and crazy clowns.  We are all changing and growing, being pushed and molded by each other’s personalities and interests every day.   

Sometimes it’s slow, and sometimes there is a growth spurt – but I’m learning to consider others’ feelings before my own.  And as I grow as a parent, I grow as a person.  Through my experiences as a parent, I have become a better wife, daughter, friend, teacher, and co-worker. Doctor’s charts can’t measure this growth in adulthood.  I wish they could, cause if you could see me inside, I’m 6 feet tall.

Feeling Human

I’m one of those rare Indian people who actually turn red when I’m embarrassed.  And as a teenager, this was often.  I was an immigrant kid, who just wanted to fit in.  But it’s hard to fit in as a teenager when you coat smells like curry, your parents speak with accents, and you have to explain to all the kids at the Baptist school why you go to church on Saturday (The eighties were not a time of great cultural or religious diversity.  I was a double minority in high school).   

Somehow I didn’t die of embarrassment in my teens, but embarrassment continued to plague me through my 20s and 30s.  There was the time I got my period unexpectedly during step aerobics class, the time I threw up in the cycling studio at Lifetime Fitness, and every tear (sob) that I shed in the parking lot (hallway) when each of my kids went to kindergarten.   As an introvert, I think I feel embarrassment more than my extroverted friends.  It seems like extroverts relish publicity and smile when even their negative moments are on stage. When embarrassing moments come, I sink into a corner and wish the ground would swallow me up. 

I don’t know when it happened, but somehow after having three kids and all of the weird, embarrassing moments that come with that (the nudity required in the hospital alone is enough to make an introvert cringe), but now that I’m in my 40s, I try to lean into my embarrassment, and embrace the shame.  We all have embarrassing moments, and there is no reason that I feel like a loser or a bad parent when I occasionally forget to pick up my youngest at kids’ church, or someone wears two different shoes to the mall.   When I lean into the moments, sometimes I can laugh, or at the very least KNOW that I am not the first (or only) person to experience this feeling of shame.    

The other day, I was at a private doctor’s appt., when a teacher, Ms. K. *, from my new school comes in.  I was cringing (and texting Kumar), wishing I were not seen in this building.  Things got even worse, with a not-so-private exchange in the lobby, and I had to just lean into the conversation, without feeling anger or shame.  When I talked with Kumar later, tears fell, when I told him that I’m not made for these public displays of drama. I cannot prevent or avoid these moments.  They are just a   part of life.   The next morning I went in to work, wondering if I should acknowledge the awkward meeting with Ms. K or just hide in my office. Ms. K ended up dropping by my office, to tell me why she was at the doctor.  It turns out that she didn’t even notice my private/not private exchange because she was so worried about ME seeing HER! 

 Embarrassment and shame are part of all of our worlds.  We worry about what people think of us, when we live in our own heads rather than realize how these human moments and feelings are universal. The struggle, the pain, the mistakes are all part of a greater purpose, the universal experience of being HUMAN.  

*fake initial