Parenting

See

Posted on by Lauren

“Want me to come in with you?” I asked, reassuringly. 

A small smile crept into the corner of her mouth. 

“No, mom. I got it.”

I watched from the driver’s seat as she walked into the store, turning one last time to look at me.

I settled into my seat, head against the headrest and smiled. 

This was it. My first baby is growing up, reassuring me along the way that I’ve done my job. I’ve walked beside her, leading by example, showing her the ropes of life. 

And now, she’s confident enough to take a stab at it on her own, knowing full-well I’m nearby if needed. 

There’s no one at the counter.

There never is. Just find someone who works there and ask them.

I can’t find anyone. Can you come in? . . .wait, nvm. 

She walked back through those double doors, holding the bag up to prove her mission had been successful. 

“See?” She said, climbing back into the passenger’s seat. 

Yes, my darling. 

I see you. 

And I couldn’t be prouder. 

Anchor

Posted on by Lauren

When I tell you I’m having a real time with one of my daughters, I mean I am having a real time. 

I liken the reward of raising her to pouring water into a sieve. No matter how much you give, it feels as if nothing is retained. 

And thanks to the file I retrieved when cleaning out my dad’s condo, containing every one of my report cards and conference sheets, I discovered just how very similar this daughter is to me, when I was her age. 

Now I truly understand just how hard I was to parent (sorry, mom). 

There are so many days I feel as if I have nothing left to give while simultaneously feeling guilty for feeling this way about my own child. 

Therapy helps (for both of us). So do frequent breaks to refuel my empty tank.

But what to tell myself when I feel hopeless? When it seems nothing is changed, nothing learned? 

What is my role?

My steadfast presence. 

That I stay. Even when it is hard. Especially when it’s ugly. 

That although I seemingly get very little from this current relationship, I remain an anchor for her to hold onto. 

That’s it. 

I may not see great change now or ever but I remain. 

And that’s enough. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

The Greatest Gift

Posted on by Lauren

“You need to tell her. You need to get into your car right now, go over there and tell her.” my husband encouraged. 

It was the eve of my birthday. We were on our front porch and I had just read aloud a letter I’d found while cleaning out my father’s condo. Apparently, he had kept a file for each of his children. In mine I found every report card, parent/teacher conference record and a collection of letters. 

What a treasure trove of memories this was for me to dive deeply into. 

But the one dated December 11, 1987 left me breathless.

If you’ve followed my blog, then you know the story of my beginning. I am the illegitimate love- child of a long-term affair. My parents worked together but no one suspected, not even after I was born. My older sisters, who also worked with my parents, knew me as “Pam’s daughter” but did not learn I was their half-sister until I was three. 

My mother was a powerful business woman. She was charismatic, magnetic, and inspiring. She meant much to many across the entire country but it was me, who wanted her attention the most. 

I spent so many years of my life resentful and angry for the time she’d spent building her career in place of a closer relationship with me. Now that I have a daughter very similar to me, when I was a child, I understand how challenging it must have been to forge that relationship. I didn’t make it easy. 

I finished this letter and instantaneously, my anger evaporated leaving nothing but remorse in its wake. 

I desperately wanted to call her and tell her how sorry I was for failing to recognize the love she had held for me my entire life. I was so busy focusing on her shortcomings that, as a result, I completely missed her devotion and steadfast love. 

My mother advocated for me. She encouraged my father to maintain a relationship with me not just in this letter but in other letters I found in the file: inviting him to conferences, recording my thoughts to him pen-to-paper when I could not yet write. 

How could I ever thank her enough for that gift? The gift of the presence of my father? 

What if I had found this after her death and had never apologized? 

What if my father hadn’t kept these letters for me to one day find?

But he did and she’s still here and my husband willed me to go to her. 

I couldn’t get a hold of her until the next day but when she answered, I started by telling her how much I loved her followed immediately by how sorry I was for remaining angry with her for so long. I thanked her for loving me anyway, in spite of my anger. For never giving up on me. Not then and not now. 

It was my birthday. 

And it was the greatest gift I’ve ever received. 

Love, forgiveness, and gratitude. 

BOB

Posted on by Lauren

Lost amidst the busyness of our everyday lives, it came and went as suddenly and normally as weekly groceries, this event I had so built-up in my mind. 

For over 13 years, our BOB stroller occupied precious space in our garage. It’s role and value not to be underestimated. 

It carried our first, second, third and last-born. 

To the park, across the beach, along rugged, rocky trails in Maine, Costa Rica and the Carolinas. This stroller has rolled through airports, water parks and Disney World. Her wheels have traversed through rain, mud, snow and sand and although one daughter, along the way, bucked through the straps breaking them for good, our stroller safely contained each child.

From an infant in Stroller Strides for eight incredible years to an 8 year old’s backpack hitching a ride to-and-from the walking zone of our elementary school, our stroller has never failed us. 

And just like that, she was claimed by a new family and gone, yesterday. 

She honorably and dutifully served us and now, she rolls on with new rear ends to hold and sidewalks to explore. 

We thank her for her loyalty and service and wish her light loads and a gentle retirement. 

BOB, you will forever have our hearts. 

Cry for Help

Posted on by Lauren

She’s been snowballing. 

It started small, with occasional snide, snarky remarks made towards her sister; but, it’s grown into a self-proclaimed hatred. 

As a parent, it’s devastating to witness. 

With eyes full of loathing, she finds any tiny infraction to criticize.

Advice encouraging her to focus on her own circle of control and to “let it go” fall upon deaf ears. 

She’s angry.

But it wasn’t until her meltdown this past week that we realized it’s not her sister she’s angry with. 

It’s us. 

“YOU LOVE HER MORE THAN ME.”

“SHE NEVER GETS IN TROUBLE.”

“YOU SPEND MORE TIME WITH HER.”

She screamed and sobbed and tore the room apart, seething in anger and despair. 

I spent the next couple of days researching sibling conflict and was reminded of what I had forgotten: the answer is time. 

Over the past several months, I’ve tried in vain to help the sisters get along- I’ve been focusing on the surface issue. 

What I failed to do was pour into my hurting daughter. 

I don’t need to help resolve their conflict. It’s just a facade. 

Instead, I embraced my angry child and asked her out to dinner. I explained dad would take her out one night, too. 

She lifted her face and genuinely smiled. 

No more problem solving. No more solutions on how to help fix “the problem”. 

Just more love. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Work-in-Progress

Posted on by Lauren

Anyone else listening to “The Let Them Theory” by Mel Robbins right now?

It’s been nothing short of validating and eye-opening and I haven’t even finished.

I’ve learned a lot.

The greatest lesson is the acceptance that I am, that we all are, a living work-in-progress. 

Although I wish this book had been available to me years ago, I’m so grateful to read it now. 

I’ve done a lot of work with a therapist healing sore wounds but absorbing the lessons in this book feels like starting fresh.

As Mel says, “Let me”.

Choice

Posted on by Lauren

I spent the better part of my thirties examining my past to better understand my present.

Now in my forties, I feel like I’ve got a solid understanding of how I came to be who I am. 

I understand that while I will never be able to fill the gaps for that lonely, lost little girl of my past, I sure can provide my own girls with a solid foundation. 

And instead of wallowing in what happened, I can forgive myself for my missteps, buckle up my shoes and keep walking, eyes forward. 

My childhood friends and I always mimicked my mom’s “You have a choice, Lauren.” speech. But my mom gets the final laugh because, she was right!

There are always going to be people we’d rather not be around or challenging, unavoidable life events.

We can’t choose those people or those events but we can choose how we handle them. 

It’s how we respond that matters.

I have quite a few friends enduring some major life changes this holiday season- deaths of loved ones, divorce and general heartache. 

To them and to all of you reading, I reach out my hand to hold yours and to remind you that in this holy season, you can also put those hands together in prayer to ask for God’s help. 

You’re not alone. 

We never are. 

That’s one choice we can’t make. 

Wishing you love, peace and joy this holiday season. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

River

Posted on by Lauren

Lately, I’ve started to visualize my life as a river.

She’s a real beaut. 

Surrounded by tall trees and mountains. She curves through forests, banked by shady trees; winding through cities, carrying on as rapids to more peaceful pastures. 

My river began as a stream and has gained confidence and power along the way. 

There have been moments when my river stalled. She was curious, exploring a side cove. 

Sometimes, she got stuck in a whirlpool. 

Round-and-round she went until she forgot not only where she came from but also where she was going. 

Finally, a particularly dreadful downpour left her overflowing back to her main stream whereupon she realized, with great relief, that the whirlpool wasn’t her final destination. 

No. 

It was just a stop along the way. 

And that’s what this journey called life is. 

A winding river with stops along the way. 

Sometimes bruised and battered. 

Hopefully made stronger. 

We carry on. 

Triple Falls Dupont State Forest, NC 2023

Boundary

Posted on by Lauren

Boundaries.

The older I get, the more I learn just how important they are. 

Setting them, adjusting as needed, and keeping them. 

They are important for all relationships, personal and professional. 

Marriage, friendships, coworkers and family. 

I’ve come to realize I feel most out-of-control when I’ve either failed to set a boundary or neglected to enforce it. 

And I had that come-to-Jesus moment just yesterday. 

One of my daughter’s spiraling separation anxiety has left me feeling suffocated. Aside from school, she will go very few places without me present- the entire time. Which is why we end up hosting most of her friends at our house and why I stay for her after-school activities. 

It’s not her fault. We are seeking multiple avenues of professional help. But it’s exhausting. I’m sure for her, too. 

I birthed her and I will stand by her, through thick and thin. She will know that when things get tough, I am walking alongside her through the muck until she is strong enough to wave goodbye and walk alone. 

But yesterday, I was upset that I was going to miss my husband’s volleyball tournament so that I could stay for my daughter’s weekly extracurricular. And in my frustration and resentment, I realized that her anxiety was now directly affecting MY life, MY marriage. I was failing to keep my boundary. 

So, I explained- you can go to your extracurricular alone or you can miss it and come with me because today, I choose me. I choose my husband. I choose our marriage, which we’ve always stressed comes absolutely first in this family. Without the strength of that bond, the rest collapses. 

He didn’t know I had changed plans and cracked a smile as we walked onto the beach.

I knew I’d made the right choice. 

I kept my boundary. 

I chose him. 

I chose us. 

And stronger together, we will support her. 

Protect

Posted on by Lauren

Have a good day at school today, honey.

Thx. Hopefully I don’t get shot.

Just typing this text exchange between me and my seventh grade daughter causes me to erupt into tears.

How are we here? Why?

Do I trust the email our school district sent, reassuring that they are aware and on top of the threat?

Or do I miss a day of work and pull my child from school?

My entire blog is about trusting the process and not living in fear of truth but when it comes to my child’s life, what then?

I can’t believe we have to have this conversation but if in danger, hide and cover your head.

I send her to school knowing that even if she survives her college graduation, she then has large concerts, grocery stores and churches to survive.

It never ends. The threat remains.

If you see someone injured apply a tourniquet above the wound- meaning tie a shoelace or a shirt above the area to stop the blood flow so that they don’t bleed out.

Ooo gross.

She and dozens of others visited the school counselor yesterday. Confused. Scared. Trying to discern whether they are overreacting or reacting appropriately. How is this ever appropriate?

It’s a stark reminder that life is precious, not to be taken for granted even on the most mundane, run-of-the-mill school days.

Love you.

love u.

Dear God, please protect our children.

Because clearly we can’t.

Camille Vaughan Photography