mother

An Undying Love

January 18, 2019 by Tara Cousineau Leave a Comment

Before the year’s end I was so excited about Christmas, soaking up the wonderful blend of rituals that my German mother was so good at conjuring up. I hope I am transmitting that kind of magic to my grown children and they to theirs. I will have to wait and see. Then my 81-year-old mother fell and broke her hip just before Christmas, the dear thing. For weeks I drove back and forth to the hospital and the rehab place — contemplating her mortality as well as mine. Not exactly the sentiment I wanted to carry into 2019. And then again, thinking about death can also be the very thing that illuminates what really matters in life.

My mother is back home now and in fine form, directing her daughters with endless to-do lists — the kind that make you say, Just shoot me, already. Then I catch myself. We are entering a fragile decade.

In The Five Invitations: Discovering What Death Can Teach Us About Living Fully, the meditation teacher Frank Ostaseski, writes beautifully about the grave losses as well as little deaths that happen in our everyday lives. I think about my daughters who are both off to college, the new wrinkles that appear when I weep or smile, and the absence of noise. He writes about an undying love:

Every time we experience a loss, we have another chance to experience life at a greater depth. It opens us to the most essential truths of our lives: the inevitability of impermanence, the causes of suffering, and the illusion of separateness. We begin to appreciate that we are more than the grief. We are what the grief is moving through. In the end, we may still fear death, but we don’t fear living nearly as much. In surrendering to our grief, we have learned to give ourselves to life.

Ask yourself: What does it mean to live fully?

Matters in Kind

It so happens that a journalist interviewed me months ago about grown mothers and daughters. I had completely forgotten about it. Her story is on Today.com: 5 ways to have a better relationship with your mom. Reading my own words made me reflect: I should listen to my inner voice more often.

Photo by Aswin on Unsplash

Playing Hooky with Mom

October 15, 2013 by Tara Cousineau Leave a Comment

teenager walking Moms and Dads: What if you decide to pick one day to think outside the box when it comes to your kids’ education? What might that look like?

Imagine you drop the carpool.

Drop the to-do list.

Take a personal day off.

Say you wanted your teenager to have an experience that he or she might not get at school or camp or on a family vacation? The kind of experience that can wake your teen up – really wake him up to realities outside the comfort zone of friends, texting, homework and sports?

That’s just what my sister did with her 15-year old son. They played hooky last week.

She’s a Mom On A Mission. M.O.M.

Mom and son went to an L.A. courthouse to watch the examination of a prisoner plaintiff, an alleged member of a Mexican mafia ring who was originally charged with, and serving time, for first-degree murder. But the jury did not know this about the plaintiff’s past; they just understood that he had been recently involved in a prison riot and police brutality case, the current case on trial. The story my sister told described the judge as conscientious and methodical in her approach. She would pause the proceedings and turn to the jury to explain things very clearly. This was also great for the public viewers.

M.O.M: “It was a better education of the justice system than [my son] could have ever gotten in school! It was riveting.”

Son of M.O.M.: “The court trial was a really good reason to miss out of school not only because I’m interested in law, but also because it was just a great live experience to see how the law works and how lawyers accuse or defend the defendants. The whole process of the trial was so cool.”

Media Kit - Homeboy Exterior Window After the hearing my sister and nephew went to Father Boyle’s Homeboys Industries. Father Boyle is known for his amazing work with LA gang members, the stories of which are told in his book, Tattoos on the Heart. For two decades, Father Boyle’s team has helped thousands of gang members get out, remove their gang tattoos, help them finish school, and get jobs. They hung out at the café called Home Girls. All the employees are ex-gang members. They wear t-shirts and hats with the motto: “Jobs Not Jails.” [You can watch the DVD, G-Dog, to really get the mission of Father Boyle’s work.]

And guess what? My nephew is now even more interested in pursuing law. My sis is now going to do the same “hooky” dates with her two younger teenagers. She’s all M.O.M. Her plan is that all three kids will get to do a “real life education” day every year until they graduate from high school.

Son of M.O.M.: “Visiting the Homeboy Industries was very inspiring and moving. My mom has always been telling me about how great Father Boyle is and how much he has done to get these gang members off the street. But actually visiting it for the first time really hit me because I saw all of these people who look like they would be in a gang (tattoos and piercings everywhere), but were actually working real jobs, smiling, and laughing with each other.”

Yet something else also was at work here. Let’s call it compassion. Let’s even suggest that this hooky outing also changed my nephew’s perspective about human beings’ capacity to change and the role of community to radically heal the soul. Let’s also suggest that something was forever changed between mother and son. An experience. A tug of heart strings. Love.

So I challenge my parent readers to think of what hooky might look like – not the opening season baseball game or spa treatment or a mental health day of sleeping in late.

Step outside the box.

How could a day of hooky change your kids’ life – and yours?

Father Greg Tattoos on the Heart Cover picture — “Nothing stops a bullet like a job.” – Fr. Boyle

Learn more:

Homeboy Industries

Father Boyle’s TedxTalk

Caution: Soul-Searching Mama Traveling With Teenager

August 3, 2013 by Tara Cousineau Leave a Comment

Traveling in Malaysia and Indonesia for almost three weeks with my teen daughter has been relatively easy in spite of the fact that she ignores me. So I’ve taken total advantage of this state of affairs. I’ve gone AWOL. Since she’d rather be with her traveling BFFs, I’ve learned that I can actually allow myself to relax between meals and airport checkpoints.

I’ve embarked, rather accidentally, on a mini soul journey and daily practice of self-compassion. I figure it’s a good time to walk the talk of what much of what I teach to my clients. After all, I have no excuse since I don’t have much Internet access to distract me (and neither does my daughter); I don’t have to do laundry; and for god’s sake it’s a vacation after all. And my BFF, our hostess and the mom of her BFFs, who now lives in Kuala Lumpur, has lovingly seen to it that I see a masseuse, an energy healer, and a Chinese medicine doctor. She’s a good friend indeed.

Here are three things I’ve learned as a soul-searching mom traveling with teenager.

1) Be Kind

It’s never too late to be kind to yourself. I found I could nurture my soul in spite of the constant banter of four teenage girls. I simply tuned them out. I put myself on top of the priority list for a few days. That gave me time to read: in the airports, on the flights, and in the middle of the night wide-awake on East coast time.

I’ve already two books in less than a week: The Mindful Path to Self-Compassion by Christopher Germer and Untethering the Soul by Michael Singer (twice). I’m re-reading Singer’s bestseller as I found it so moving. The first time I simply read it in awe. I’m now I’m underlining my favorite parts, which is about two thirds of all the pages. He writes, for instance:

You have a wellspring of beautiful energy in side of you. When you are open you feel it; when you are closed you don’t.

Sometimes you pick up a book and it’s no accident it was waiting for you.

2) Be Quiet

When you start to pay attention to your inner life you begin to witness all the unnecessary chatter in your own head. I’ve been practicing this for years – or rather I’ve been playing tag with mindfulness meditation. I go in fits and starts. Then things like missed school buses rob me of the most sacred time of day. Ah, the busyness of life.

So here I am on the other side of the world with few concerns other than my daughter’s peanut allergy. As it turned out, when I tuned into my internal dialog I found it was louder than those four teenage girls. So much for me telling them to quiet down. It was also rather boring; at times it was rather harsh; and overall, my inner voices were not nearly as loving and silly as the girls’ constant gab. I decided to stand back and witness both my chatter and theirs. I came to appreciate these inner and outer voices for that they were… voices. It is true that much of what we tell ourselves we’d never utter aloud to a dear a friend. I had all the evidence in and around me.

3) Be Open

Every stranger I’ve met has offered me a gift. It’s as if they somehow know that “self-care” is frowned upon in my culture; that any attention to oneself, or pampering, is considered a luxury rather than a birthright.

No more.

The Masseuse, with her hot stones sliding and clicking along my spine, brought to me a state of intense warmth and relaxation. It was an experience in which a trace memory appeared: a babe wrapped in loving arms. It moved me to tears. That led to my more accessible memories of swaddling my own baby girls. Pure love. Joy. Gratitude.

The Energy Healer could “see” even before meeting me a pain in my right arm (true!) and “a tear in my heart chakra.” A tear, as in rip, rupture, or fissure. The statement brought me to tears. How many of us carry broken hearts from some part of our lives? Apparently, I wear my heart on my sleeve.

I had just read a line in Untethering the Soul: Very few people understand the heart.

Here I was with a person I had never met before and she saw right to my heart and old bottled up wounds. Never had I felt so vulnerable. Ever. Yet, she was kind, intuitive, and began a process of releasing my stuck energy patterns. I thought I had been over all this before. You don’t become a therapist without immersing yourself in your own treatment. Yet, this was clearly different kind of therapy and tapped something much deeper than reruns of my life’s narratives. It was about letting go of them. She had four words for me: Accept. Allow. Forgive. Love. She sent me off with a powerful breath focused visualization.

On the third day, the Chinese Medicine Doctor asked “What your problem?” and read my pulse carefully. He told me my liver and kidney chi were overactive, constricting my chest. What? Back to the heart?

“The energy shifts and variations that take place in the heart run your life,” Singer writes in his book. “But in truth you are not your heart. You are the experience of your heart.”

The doctor gave me seven days worth of mystery bark and berries to brew into a “balancing” tea. The very act of brewing my own tea left me with pause for all the learning I had just done. It was hard to swallow.

* * *

Now we are in Bali surrounded by temples. We are literally stepping over daily offerings to gods left on the sidewalks and doorways. We are meeting a kind people who are always smiling; and we are among a community in tune with nature and spirit. Here, my heart is light; the path made easier by my three healers, two books and dear friends.

My daughter has little sense of what I’m experiencing, but in her self-involved adolescent world she is noticing that I’m taking care of myself. She’s become curious.

Now she wants a massage, too. Intrepid as they are the girls booked four massages – together, of course, $10 a piece.

It’s a start.

An Arrow Through the Heart: The Merida Makeover

May 13, 2013 by Tara Cousineau Leave a Comment

“Why? Why would they do that?” Lamented my 13-year-old daughter.

Yes, it’s another sad Disney tale. You see, I showed her the Merida makeover. Merida is the gutsy girl in Brave with bow and arrow, who stands up to her parents with typical teen rants, challenges cultural traditions, and seeks great adventure. If you don’t know this Disney princess, she’s one of the few, who from the get go, shows gumption. She came as a relief to many moms, including myself, to have a female character with wit, confidence, self-reliance… and also empathy.

movies-princess-merida-before-after — (c) Disney/Pixar

I had been at my desk when Josie bobbed in from the school bus. I was looking at the before and after images of Merida that A Mighty Girl posted. A Mighty Girl did a mighty thing by creating a Change.org petition last week to challenge Disney’s leadership on their decision to glamorize Merida for her induction into the Princess Collection. As of today – in a matter of days – the petition solicited about 125,000 signatures.*

Josie peeked over my shoulder to take a closer look the makeover. She squinted, pulled her head back, leaned back in for scrutiny. “She’s looks ugly!” she exclaimed. “I want to sign the petition, too!”

Later, I read what Peggy Orenstein had to say on this latest Disney transgression, author of Cinderella Ate My Daughter. She’s tired of it all. Can’t blame her. So am I. On her blog post she goes through the makeovers of the various Disney princesses and it’s not pretty.

But I’ve come to realize that the media and retail industries will simply be giving moms plenty of teachable moments with our daughters and sons when it comes to media literacy and how unrealistic beauty ideals in our culture affect us.

My husband is in the brand strategy business and I updated him at dinner on the Merida controversy. What is Disney thinking? His view was dispassionate. Having been an art director in NYC, traveled the unforgiving ranks to creative director only to become an entrepreneur and consultant, he painted the corporate picture for us.

“Somebody sent a memo to give Merida a makeover for an event or promotion. Some unsuspecting art director follows the instructions, offers some versions, sends the redesigns back up the line. A brand manager picks one set of the new Merida he likes, and in a matter of seconds it’s a done deal.” In other words, there was little thought to the meaning of the change (or the consequence), and there was certainly no checking in with FANS. Like seriously? Don’t they know that we have a generation of empowered co-creators?!

Disney is trying to sell product. It’s as simple as that. But it seems they really need to take a hard look at their decisions, rash or otherwise. Disney lost their compass on this one. Wasn’t the intent of Brave to offer a new story for girls? Let’s hope the petition to “Keep Merida Brave” changes their minds.

You’d think this could be a pretty useful case study for understanding your customer. But the likelihood that this would reach the Harvard Business School case studies is probably slim. Something like this is not going to put a dent in Disney stock or shift their corporate core values. But the sad truth is that many consumers are pretty numb to what they are being sold and many moms and dads might not even have noticed the Merida makeover once it hit packaging. After all, the Disney’s princesses start to look rather …similar.

MissRepresentation.org is trying to raise awareness of media limiting portrayal of girls and women, not only with their film but with their #NotBuyingIt twitter campaign and upcoming app. It will take grass roots efforts like A Mighty Girl and MissRep, and the cadre of girls empowerment initiatives, to not only raise awareness but to help consumers raise their voices.

Josie is just hitting that vulnerable place where looks matters so much (it’s 7^th grade after all). In anticipation of her all-girls gymnastics banquet, the buzz the past month has been all about their dresses, hair and shoes. Of course, their outfits are then vetted by each other via Instragram. This is not about boys at all. They are glamming it up for a girls’ night out that will last about 3 hours where they dance themselves silly in bare feet.To avoid the potential tears if she doesn’t quite meet her mind’s eye on the day of the event, we practiced the hair-do last night with a curling wand… a contraption I have no experience with. It comes with a glove to avoid burning fingers. We figured it out with trial and error and she became pretty deft at it within an hour. Ironically, her hair looked just the new Merida.

In this makeover nation I asked Josie what if anything, in her opinion, Disney could change about the original Merida – even for the better. Her answer:

Nothing.

* * *

*UPDATE: The Change.org campaign to Keep Merida Brave was a success in part. Disney will keep the original Merida on its website, but the fight is far from over.

Mums the Word On Safe Sex? Enter Plan B For Teenage Girls

May 3, 2013 by Pat Cousineau Leave a Comment

I support access to emergency contraception for teenage girls.

So be it that the contentious discourse about birth control continues. But as of this month, at least one morning after pill is now available over the counter to teen girls as young as 15, provided they show an ID with their age.

As far as I can tell the scientific research shows that a morning after pill has no effect on pregnancy rates. Nor is there evidence that teens put themselves at more risk knowing there’s a possible “out” when it comes to unprotected sex. What access to Plan B gives is another option in the reproductive health tool kit. Those folks who say it’s an abortion pill aren’t reading the science on how it works and maybe they don’t even know how female reproductive organs function. Just sayin’.

Over the counter morning after pills also allow for easier access in the event of sexual assault or if a condom breaks. Any teen or parent hopes that neither situation happens. So maybe it’s time for a chat. Better late than never. After all, appropriate parental involvement is a protective factor for the wellbeing of teens.

But when it comes to talking about sex, many parents just cop out.

Parents as Prevention

Health prevention education works. We know it works because teen pregnancy rates in the US have consistently dropped over the years and more teens postpone intercourse, with the average age of first intercourse at 17. Research that looks at the type of sexual health education offered shows that states with comprehensive sex education have lower pregnancy rates than states that support abstinence-only education.

The discussion that is not taking place is the one between parents and their teens, no matter what one’s point of view about sexual health. We can’t rely on schools. The standards for sex ed are meager and inconsistent. Actually, they are pretty pathetic. Sex ed, if you can even call it that, occurs twice in the K through 12 years. The first birds and the bees chat happens, typically, in the spring of 5^th grade. The second discussion is about four years later in 9^th grade biology class when teachers discuss human physiological systems. No wonder middle school remains the landmine of emotional drama. Teens are left to figure things out on their own.

All the other sex education comes via friends, social media and a few billboards. It’s a rare school or program that offers a course in Human Sexuality.

I always like to go to the source when it comes to discussion about teen sex ed: teenagers. I did this today given the recent news of the “Plan B” product approval with the purchase ability by 15-year-old teenagers.

Being stuck as the reluctant carpool driver this week to bring a bunch of, yes, 15-year-old girls, to soccer practice in the middle of nowhere, I had a good hour to ask questions of this captive audience. My daughter was mortified. Frankly, she’s used to this by now. Her friends were more than accommodating to chat it up.

Q: Do you girls know what Plan B is?

All: Plan B?

Soccer Mom: Yes, the morning after pill.

All: Ooohhhhh….. Yeah.

Soccer Mom: Under what circumstances would a girl use it?

A pregnant pause as it were.

Girl 1: Well, if a condom broke I guess.

Girl 2: Or if a girl was raped.

Soccer Mom: Knowing that a girl your age could go to the drug store and buy it by showing an ID, do you think that this birth control option will change how teens think about sex?

Girl 3: What do you mean, like have unprotected sex?

I was trying not to lead them, so I’m sure I sounded vague.

Soccer Mom: Ok, sure.

All: Nooooooo.

Soccer Mom: Ok, you’re saying that because I’m a parent you know. But really I’m just doing a dispassionate focus group here. On the issue of emergency birth control what does the morning after pill NOT do?

Girls 1 & 2: Stop STDS!!!

They shouted in unison. Go Ms. G, biology teacher.

Soccer Mom: Let me ask another question.

Girl 1: Mommmmmm…..

Soccer Mom: Let me ask you experts in the back seat.

Q. Would you have a conversation with your mom about contraception or safe sex?

Girl 3: Never. If I even started to ask about it, my mother wouldn’t let me out of the house for a year.

Soccer Mom: You mean your mother wouldn’t be open to having a “talk” with you?

Girl 3: Well, she might talk at me about it. But the only reason I would ever ask my mom about the morning after pill is if I were, like, raped.

All: WHAT???

The whole mini van shook.

Soccer Mom: You mean that the only way you and your mom could talk about it, you’re saying, is if there was a crisis, where something bad happened to you?

Girl 3: Basically. She won’t even let me be on birth control for my acne.

Soccer Mom: Ok, I get where you’re coming from. What about you?

Girl 2: Well, talking to my mom about sex would be awkward. I don’t think we’ve ever had the talk. But I have my older sister. She’s not much older, though. Not sure what she’d say, really. Nothing helpful!

Girl 1: Mom, did we ever have a talk? I can’t remember.

Interesting.

Soccer Mom: Well, sort of. We did the whole shopping down the feminine supply aisle. I still get on your case about being a good role model for your younger sister on the girls stuff, and using the period tracker app…. and we signed you up to participate in the Our Whole Lives program last year unless you blocked it out of your memory bank.

Girl 2: (laughing) Oh, was that your sex ed program?

Girl 1: Oh god, it was 26 weeks. I missed one class the whole year. And, let me just say, ok, it covered EVERYTHING.

Soccer Mom: The rides home after class were a fairly lively, if I recall. That was sort of like “the talk” or maybe lots of mini-talks. More like the talk-after-someone-else-did-the-talk. Took the pressure off me and Dad a bit. But maybe we need to revisit some things…

Girl 1: No thanks.

Q: What if there was someone else in the friend and family circle, like an aunt or former baby sitter, or a friend’s mom that you could talk to in confidence?

Girl 3: Nope. My mom would find out from her best friend, and whatever she dug up, she might not ever say anything to me. But she’d still lock me up for a year.

More laughter.

Girl 2: I like talking to my mom about most things; we just never have talked about this. I guess I’d talk to another cool mom, but I think she’d tell my mom anyway.

Girl 1: Mom, seriously, if I talked to [our old babysitter] that would be really awkward.

I thought about some of my teen clients. Some will readily inform me about the latest on teen life, tell me what hooking up means to them, or confide that they are planning to lose their virginity at prom. They are my source. None would share these thoughts with their mothers. So I’ve gotta believe my daughters won’t be much different. It won’t be for a lack of my openness.

Soccer Mom: OK, but let’s just say that moms got together and made a pact that each of you could go to another mother – like a “mentor” mom – to talk to when things got sticky. You know… on whatever: stress, school, boys, sex, or drinking. But the only reason your “confidentiality” would be broken – that your mom would find something out – is if the “mentor” mom thought you might be in danger, physically or emotionally.

Q: Would you reach out to another mom or family friend?

All: Maybe…

Soccer Mom: Here’s the thing. Your moms all want you to be safe and sound. The last thing they want is for you to get pregnant unintentionally or raped. Right? That’s a bottom line. Don’t you think they’d much rather have you feel comfortable and open to conversation, if not with them, then with someone else? I know I would be relieved to know there is another mom or trusted person you could confide in. Seriously.

All: I don’t know. Yah. Ok. Maybe. That’s weird.

Soccer Mom: What you all seem to be saying is that whether you have a good or close relationship with your moms – or not – you wouldn’t even think about discussing birth control or sex. That only in the most dramatic, worse case scenario would you confide in your moms! Don’t you think there could be an easier way?

* * *

We arrived at the soccer field. They all gathered their gear, water bottles, and lumbered out of the van. Vibrant souls. Open yet closed. Venturing out into the world of grown ups… somehow thinking they escaped my questions until the ride home. Maybe they were thinking that one way or another they’ll figure things out for themselves.

I thought to myself: These three girls have pretty savvy moms. Well-educated, fairly involved, more or less easy to talk to. They have health care and access to health education. In their young minds it would be worse to admit to sex or wanting to have a plan for safe sex – for fear of punishment or disappointment or embarrassment – than to risk their connection to their moms. When it comes to sex, mums the word.

It’s time to change the dialog. It starts with you.

* * *

Resources: Talking About Sex: List of Books

My Daughter’s First High Heels

January 22, 2013 by Tara Cousineau Leave a Comment

She said she needed a pair to tan flats for the older girl’s sweet 16 party. That’s what I heard anyway. So when Sophie bopped into the car with her mall pals I said, Let’s see the shoes!

Silence.

She pulled them out. A pair of high heels. Yes, tan. I paused. Impulsively, I gave her the look.

I thought you said flats, honey?

No. I said I needed tan shoes to go with my coral dress.

Those are really high, I mutter.

Her friend rather politely says, My mother prefers that I didn’t wear high heels, either.
(Thanks, friend. Might you have piped up at the store?)

I was instantly catapulted back to my little attic bedroom with the floral wallpaper and slanted ceilings. There, in the crawl space at the far end of my teenage hideway, I hid a pair of shocking red high heels.

My mother would have killed me. Or rather, she would have gone into full hysteria, waling about how hard she works raising us girls all by herself, and what do we have to show her for it. And so on. Then she’d pray.

I was 17 at the time. I worked at a shoe store in town. I got an employee discount. Had my mother discovered the red shoes I would have pulled out the “it’s my money” card or “you can’t tell me what to do anymore” or point out all the expensive shoes she hid in her closet for her job in the city. (Of course, I knew where to look).

Ah, my not-so little girl and her new pumps.

It was a moment of mourning.

Sitting there turning on the engine, I thought, here is my choice point. She knows how I feel. I could demand that she return them. That would cause a fuss. An angry exchange, more likely. Humiliation in front of friends; potentially more so in front of a hip sales clerk at Charlotte Russe. It would ruin her night at the party. The anticipation would have been punctured. The girls were giddy about going to an older teammate’s coming of age celebration. For weeks, they had been texting pictures of dresses, even though they only own one or two since the 8^th grade dance—a mere 6 months ago.

Or I could let it go.

So I did. I took a breath. I thought about my red high heels, and all the other secrets I had in order to preserve whatever relationship I had with my mother. In the 30 seconds it took me to back out of the parking space and scan their bright faces, I thought: These little ladies will wear their high heels for about 5 minutes. Then they’ll dance barefoot.

And they did.