I don’t believe in luck

“If it wasn’t for BAD luck he would have no luck at all.” I have heard this expression many times in reference to my family members. They are the unfortunate few that seem to never get a break, who always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and who only attract bad luck. So it may surprise you that I don’t believe in luck.

I don’t always make the right choices, but I have learned that I can adapt and make the best of a bad situation. Luck is giving up your control to chance. But most things don’t happen by chance. They happen by diligence and perseverance. The best inventions did not come from luck. They came from ingenuity and hard work. They came from years of persistence that led to one amazing day of discovery. But when the story is told, those details are left out and it becomes all about luck.

There are always random, unexpected events beyond our control. Sometimes these fall in our favor; other times we are dealt a bad hand. The ones who appear lucky are the ones who use the adversity as an opportunity to learn. They walk away from a negative experience with a new perspective and outlook on life. The unlucky can be playing with the same cards, but end up folding. They give up before the game gets exciting. The adversity creates bitterness and self-pity. They are poor losers.

My odds are 50/50. I can use hard work, a sense of humor, ingenuity and determination to tip them in my favor. I can look for opportunities as they arrive and let life teach me with the bitter and the sweet. I don’t believe in luck, but I do believe in myself!

Memories are not always accurate

Do our memories ever put on rose-colored glasses? Maybe an event that seemed unpleasant at the time is recalled with fondness and sentimentality. Even to the point that we would consider doing it again, only to realize it wasn’t actually fun the first time. Our brain loves to play tricks on us. It loves to let emotion cloud over better judgment. When you have children, you experience this regularly. You recall the amazing family trip you just had, telling everyone what fun it was, and plan for the next one. You block out the tantrums, the meltdowns, the incessant asking of “Are we there yet?” You conveniently forget the large amounts of money that you just hemorrhaged, all for the sake of “fun.”

Before our third child was born, we planned a trip to Sea World. As with most families, this practically required the selling of our firstborn. After driving ten hours with two children under five, we decided to go to dinner. We knew this would be risky. Two children, who have been cooped up in a Toyota Camry for ten hours don’t mix well with Olive Garden. But we were determined!

So as expected our kids were whiny, impatient and ill-mannered. We were prepared for that. The surprise came when our children were the best behaved. Every single child (and we’re talking dozens) in the restaurant was frazzled, exhausted, over-stimulated and miserably unhappy. All this after their parents had spent thousands of dollars on a dream vacation. At the time I am sure most of those parents were thinking, like us, “Whose idea was this?” Then we got home, back to reality and those memories were pushed to the dark recesses of our mind, and the pinkish, flowery memories emerged.

It is much like childbirth. If all you could remember was the pain, all maternal desires would cease instantly. Instead, our brain pulls a rabbit out of the hat and we seem to block out the nine months of misery and hours of agony. Our brain replaces the difficulties with warm, affectionate memories of holding our little creations for the first time.

The brain is a slightly deceitful genius, so the next time you reflect with fondness on a past event, be careful before you repeat the process, because our memories are not always accurate.

It’s not about things, it’s about people

I am about things, not people. I wake up thinking of all the things I need to accomplish. This habitual “multi-tasking” leaves me concentrating on my to-do list. If you need my time, let me know and I can pencil you in. So how does being about things and not people ruin you?

Life is about people. Some people alter who we are. Others let us change them. It’s like the tides: you can’t control them, you just learn to appreciate the high and lows. How long would you be happy without people? We need them just as much as they need us. How much of our happiness is dependent on things?

The people who make the biggest impact on our lives are never about things. They appreciate your value. They cherish their relationships, and that is what makes them rich. My dad was one of these people. He always found the time just for you. I always thought I was one of the few my dad would call regularly, but at his funeral I realized he kept in touch with everyone. His life was about people.

When we base our lives around things, people get crowded out. We miss the precious moments that can never be duplicated. We don’t enjoy the laughter, we have no time for solitude, we miss the abundance of the little things around us. The most valuable treasure is our memories. We never remember how much that car loved us, or how great that television treated us. The inanimate things fade from our minds. But we do remember how our children smelled, how someone felt in our arms, the sound of our favorite laugh, the sparkle of adored eyes. These are small things that happen every second of every day. They make an imprint on our soul, never to be erased. Life is about people, not things.

Don’t let them meet the extended

It was not intentional, but boy did it work in my favor. It just so happened that my soon-to-be husband was never able to meet the extended family, before he vowed to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. Looking back, this may be one of my husband’s biggest regrets, but was one of my wisest moves.

If you have a perfect, functioning family, you should skip this part. For the rest of us, if you ever plan on getting married, you might want to learn this valuable lesson. Don’t let them meet the extended family until after the deal is done, and make sure the ink has dried. You may even want to wait until after you have your first child …

It all comes down to the gene pool. You have met someone so special that you want to spend the rest of your life with them, you want to reproduce, have little versions of yourselves running around, live happily ever after. Then the day comes to meet the distant relatives. You want their approval and their acceptance, but instead your world is shattered. Somehow it is all quite different from what you had imagined.

They are loud and rude, as opposed to reserved and dignified. They are intoxicated and obnoxious, as opposed to sober and agreeable. You may wonder if this is the wrong family: how could your perfect someone come from such imperfection? This can raise a series of troubling questions. Do I really want to be related to these people? What will our children be like? Doubt after doubt will fill their mind, until they run off, never to be seen again. It will all be traced back to the day they met the extended family.

Most men who have married into our family have done so without fully understanding what they were getting into. I look at it not as deceit, but as the decent thing to do. You will have plenty to fight about once you’re married. Enjoy your courtship, your wedding day, your first year as newlyweds. When they’re intoxicated on your love and cannot remember life before you, then the time is right. But until that day, don’t let them meet the extended.

Your mother wants to call you every day

A mother’s love surpasses time. If you are eighty and your mother is a hundred, she will still worry about you, she will still give you advice, and if she is able to pick up the phone, she will still call you. I actually think it’s only mothers with an extreme amount of self control who don’t call their children every day. Even the ones who hold themselves back still have the desire.

Every mom has experienced letting go. Maybe it’s the first day of kindergarten, the first bus ride, the first field trip, the first date, your child moving out, getting married. Every inch your child grows feels like a foot of letting go. You want them to be independent, successful adults. Yet you secretly hope that they will still need you.

I talk to my mom almost every day, sometimes more than once. Usually the conversations are uneventful. She’s just checking in, touching base. She wants to be sure we are all right. If she has good news, she shares it with us. When she has a bad day, we can brighten it. I take it as a compliment.

Growing up does not stop a mother’s affection. It may make her appreciate you more. If she has done her job right, you will be someone she wants to have a relationship with. She will yearn to talk to you, to hear your perspective, to find out your thoughts and feelings. She has invested much in you and this is her dividend: to have a relationship with someone she has unconditional love for. I know without a doubt that when my children fly away, I will want to follow. I am sure they’ll pay me back by moving 3,000 miles away. I will miss them terribly and I will call them every day.

Divorce damages

I recently tried to explain, to my youngest daughter, what getting a divorce meant. I said, “It’s when a mom and dad can’t get along and they decide not to be married anymore, so they don’t live together.” I thought it was a simple explanation for a five-year-old, so I was caught off guard when her eyes suddenly filled with tears and she started sobbing. She then said, “Are you and dad going to get divorced?” I tried to reassure her that we hoped never to get divorced, and she soon calmed down.

This brief, innocent conversation made me realize something I had kept buried for many years: divorce damages! I remember the day my mom told us she was getting divorced from my father. She did all the right things: she sat us down and talked to us about it, telling us she loved us and that it was not our fault. Lastly, she said, “It’s going to be really hard for the next few years.”

I appreciate her telling us this, but for some reason it did not prepare me for the future. “It’s going to be really hard” was actually an understatement. I was twelve at the time, in sixth grade. I looked forward to school as an escape. My little sister, on the other hand, was five, and just starting kindergarten. She would cry every morning when my mom dropped her off at school. The tears lasted all day long, for most of the school year. Some days I would have to go to her classroom to try and comfort her, but to no avail. She was damaged. Seeing my own five-year-old sobbing brought back the sadness I had seen in my little sister’s eyes. A sadness that we will both carry for the rest of our lives.

I once read a quote that struck me: “As a child I grew up without any visible scars. But inside I battled monsters of rage, depression and insecurity with out knowing why … my parents’ divorce took away from me every child’s birthright—the feeling of being secure and protected.” It was if I had written that statement. A few days later, I was talking to my husband, who is also from a broken family. When I mentioned this quote, he said, “That is exactly how I feel.” We have both been robbed of our birthright; we are both children of divorce. Our scars are invisible, and our wounds are internal. They will never heal, and we will carry them for the rest of our lives, because divorce damages.

Are you a child of divorce? How has it impacted your life?

Old age brings out your worst qualities

I have met some amazingly happy people. Their eyes still have a mischievous twinkle and the lines on their faces show a life full of smiles. They are kind and spirited and still enjoy life to its fullest.

I also have met a few that have none of those things. Life has sucked out their vitality. They have a permanent frown. They have never discovered the wisdom that comes with age, and are the true definition of misery.

I got married very young. Most consider this a handicap, but I looked at it as an advantage. I had not become set in my ways. My husband and I have grown up together. If I had to get married today, I would have a much harder time being adaptable. I am a creature of habit, and my habit is to have things my way. Age has enhanced my worst qualities.

If you are generally a happy, flexible, good-natured person, you will probably stay that way. You will age gracefully, and will appreciate the wisdom that comes with experience. Your life will reflect joy and peace. You will be surrounded by people who adore you and value your input.

On the other hand, if you’re grouchy, set in your ways, dogmatic, bitter and judgmental at a young age, life will only get worse with time. As you age, you no longer care what other people think, and politeness is a waste of time. The true you is magnified, and unfortunately for all around you, your worst qualities become larger than life.

Mirror reflection

This is a hard one for parents to accept, myself included: Your child or children are a perfect reflection of YOU. I like to think of my youngest daughter as a reflection of her older siblings, and to some extent this is true. When a three-year-old knows vocabulary most adults don’t use and greets you with, “What’s up?” you know she’s learning it from somewhere. But this behavior is not what I am talking about.

The part I’m talking about is something deeper—not actions, but feelings. What is the mood of your household? Being extremely smart and sensitive, kids seem to pick up on body language that most adults block out. They are little radios, transmitting the feelings of your family for the public to see and hear. You’re in a bad mood, they’re grouchy. You’re uptight in the store; they manage to break something. You fight with your mate; they fight with their siblings.

I fully understand that each child has a genetic make-up that makes them who they are, and that some are wound tighter than others. But I have noticed that my attitude has the biggest impact on the mood of our family. My oldest daughter is our high-strung child, but how much of that was caused by our neurotic behavior as first-time parents? We were stressed, so she would cry … she would cry, and we would get more stressed. Stress was the common feeling in our family.

Children are wiser than we give them credit for: they mimic our emotions. When mine are being exceptionally out of control and driving me insane, I wonder if it is them, or me. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it’s me. My feelings are contributing to their actions. If I take a break, regroup or get out of the house, my outlook changes, and so does theirs. They become enjoyable children again. So I don’t need to wake up and look in the mirror to figure out my mood. All I need is to look at my children—they are my mirror reflection.