Katrina Kenison Shares Her Thoughts on "The Gift of an Ordinary Day."
The author of "Mitten Strings for God" talks about the challenges of seeing your identity as a mother change when your children no longer need you like they used to and you know their growing independence means the 'empty nest' is not far behind.
Katrina Kenison, the author of Mitten Strings for God has written a new book on the transitions and upheavals that come upon seeing your babies turning into adolescents who will soon be leaving the nest. In The Gift of An Ordinary Day: A Mother's Memoir Kenison explores her shifting role as a mother to teenage boys, the sadnesses and yearnings that come when a mother sees her identity changing, along with the victories and sweet moments that come from letting go of one's young and allowing their natural independence to unfold. Kenison writes about her impending empty nest and a move from a Boston suburb to a small town in NH, that in some ways symbolized the many changes her family was experiencing. She gives a voice to mothers who may be wondering where to direct their maternal energies once the children are grown.
Commitment: For those who have not yet read 'the gift of an ordinary day' can you describe what the book is about and what motivated you to write it? Why did you title the book, The Gift of an Ordinary Day.
Katrina Kenison: I think the word "ordinary" has a bad rap; we think it means "less than" or "mediocre." And yet, I know many people who have suffered losses and challenges, who would like nothing more than to simply have an ordinary day.
As I was beginning to envision the book, a good friend, the mom of three children still in school, was diagnosed with advanced ovarian cancer. As she went through chemo
and confronted surgery, she said that what she wanted more than anything in the world was to wake up some morning and not have the first thought that popped into her head be, "I have cancer." She wanted an ordinary day. Most of us have lives that are made up of such days, but we don't appreciate them till they're gone. I wanted to remind myself--and to inspire others--to think of every ordinary day we are granted as a gift.
Commitment: Much of this book centers on your boys entering their teen years, bringing about transformation and change to your family. How did you cope with the loss that comes with seeing your role as a mother shift, from having dependent and loving small children, to having teenagers who pull away and start on lives of their own? If you could go back in time and speak to yourself as you entered that period of life, what do you wish you knew then that you understand now that would have helped you through this transition?
Katrina: Watching our children grow up is wonderful and painful all at once. Growth and loss are inextricable from one another together during these adolescent years, and each step toward independence brings us closer to the moment when our children really will be grown and gone.
We can make sure that we stay so busy that there's no time to experience the powerful emotions that are part and parcel of this huge transition--or, we can open ourselves to feelings that are often complicated, and sometimes overwhelming.
One thing I knew for sure was that I didn't want to look back on my sons' teenaged years and feel that I had somehow "missed" them, because I'd been distracted by things that weren't really all that important. But paying attention meant feeling all the feelings--even mourning endings and accepting changes that I just didn't feel ready for. Perhaps no mother ever does.
The hardest thing of all was realizing that, much as we love our
children, we can't really protect them from pain, or ensure that
they will always use good judgement, or even keep them from harm's way.
My younger son has struggled in high school, and there have been times that I've felt helpless--much as I wanted to set things right for him, I couldn't. All I could do was keep talking, keep the lines of communication open--even when it was really hard--and keep letting him know that I have faith in him, love him, and firmly believe that all will be well.
During some of our harder moments, I wish I'd known that there would be peace on the other side, and a sense of quiet relief, once the children feel that they really have taken responsibility for their own lives. It is wonderful, these days, to know that both of my sons are happy, fulfilled, doing exactly what they are meant to be doing--and knowing that my role is not to keep them on schedule, or to organize their days, but just to cheer them on from the sidelines, and to let them know how proud I am of the young men they are turning out to be.
Commitment: As your boys were getting older, you decided to move from a home you loved in a Boston suburb to a small town in New England that was both exciting and challenging. You wrote, "For thirteen years we were held, loving that house so much that it seemed almost to love us back. Until the day when, to my surprise, being held began to feel more like being restrained. Slowly, almost without my knowing it, I had begun to hunger for something, or someplace, else." Why did you leave a home and community that you loved as your children entered this stage of life? What were you looking for?
Katrina: We had lived one life, a really good one, for thirteen years. As our older son prepared to enter high school, I suddenly saw that all too soon this chapter, of all of us living together under one roof, would end. And I had the sense that we should try something different together while we still had the chance. It was a little impulsive, and looking back I see that desire to pull up stakes as a kind of midlife restlessness. But then, all sorts of forces seemed to coalesce into a kind of energy that propelled us along--my son's desire to go to a small, nurturing high school instead of the big public one in our town, my husband's realization that he needed to move his little business out of the spare bedroom and into an office
somewhere, our shrinking incomes, the lure of more space and a slower pace of life. . .
Our search for a simpler life led, for a while, to one that was much more complicated. The move wasn't easy, and getting settled took, literally, years longer than we ever would
have guessed. But are we glad we did it? Yes, absolutely. We learned to weather change, not fear it. Our worlds expanded. We grew together. And we ended up on a hilltop with a view of mountains that never fails to fill my heart with gratitude.
There is much that I miss, still, about our old urban life. But I wouldn't trade the space, the quiet, the fields and mountains and sky here in the country, for all those urban pleasures we gave up.
Commitment: What was the most challenging aspect of seeing your sons growing up and facing the impending 'empty nest'?
Katrina: I knew that once I no longer had children at home to care for, I'd need a new job. I've been a mother for nearly twenty years. Of course, I'm still a mother and always will be, but my days of juggling my career as an editor working from home and a mother were over. I lost my job in publishing at the worst possible moment (we'd just signed off on plans to build a house, counting on my income), and I could see the writing on the wall for the motherhood gig--that was coming to an end as well.
So, figuring out who I was going to be, what I was going to do, now that I could no longer define myself as the mother of two dependent children, has been a huge challenge. Writing has certainly helped.
Commitment: What advice do you have for mothers who see the teenage years approaching, and feel a bit sad that their years of parenting young children are coming to an end? What advice do you have for other mothers who can foresee the 'empty nest' coming in a few years--and may have enjoyed being a mother, much like yourself, and are reluctant to see that part of their life change?
Katrina: Our challenge as empty nesters is to find ways to take all of our powerful maternal energies, and turn them to good use out in the world. Our children don't want us sitting home pining for them or mourning a past that's over and done with; they want us to inspire them by living rich, full, interesting lives ourselves. This is a time of great potential--if we seize it, and get creative, rather than clinging to old roles and ways of being that are outmoded.
We need to reinvent our relationships with our nearly grown children--so that we stay close in ways that matter, even as they physically move up and out. And we need to reinvent ourselves as well.
Commitment: Throughout the book, your ability to bring joy to your family amidst difficult circumstances was admirable. I loved when after a long, hard week adjusting to life in the little red cottage in a new town, you chose to throw a solstice party as an attempt to cheer up your family. Why did you do this? And how throughout your boys' lives have you been able to create 'magic' even when the circumstances were less than ideal?
Katrina: I am an optimist at heart. I always believe that things are going to be better tomorrow than they are today. And yet, that first week in the old cottage was pretty grim. The solstice party was an act of desperation, willed cheer. But it worked. Sometimes, you can find happiness by gritting your teeth and choosing it. And then, before you know it, you are smiling for real.
Commitment: As mothers, I think we all see at times that as our children get older, they sometimes don't think we are as cool as we once were. You wrote, "I missed the person I had been for them--the younger, more capable mother who read aloud for hours, stuck raisin eyes into bear-shaped pancakes, created knight's armor from cardboard and duct tape. Certainly my talents didn't seem quite so impressive anymore, my company not as desirable as it once had been." How did you cope with this change in identity that comes as children enter a new stage?
Katrina: My sons have done their share of teasing me about the book--everything from the title to the content. (In fact, Jack insists I NEVER stuck raisin eyes into bear-shaped pancakes. Chocolate chips, but not raisins. They are tough critics.) But after the book had been out a month or so, Jack came to one of my book store readings. He stood in the back and saw that people were moved by what I'd written, and I think that in that moment, he actually felt proud of me. So, publishing this book has given me something of a new
identity. Henry checks the hits on my website daily, and calls to report every uptick. He recorded music for my YouTube video and then posted it on his Facebook page. Jack likes telling people that I'm a writer. They realize --a bit to their surprise--that I am more than their mother; in fact, I even have something to say that people want to listen to.
Also, oddly enough, at 17 and 20 they are a little more inclined to spend time with me again--more so, anyway, than they were at fifteen and sixteen.
Commitment: Any parent who has gone thorugh the college application process will appreciate your chapters on this topic. What did going through this process with your son--and him ultimately choosing a school you did not initially expect--teach you about this process? How can it be gotten through successfully and in a way that the child feels enpowered rather than beaten up and withered once it is over?
Katrina: Certainly the process of applying to college gives rise to all sorts of tensions and self-doubts, both on the parents' part and the child's. It's easy to get so attached to a particular outcome, that you lose sight of the importance of the process--for it is by going through the process itself that our teenagers grow and mature and begin to feel confidence in their chosen paths. Letting go of the outcome, it becomes easier to put our trust in the process, and in our kids' ability to find their own way. I would have loved for my son to go to college close to home; in fact, I was counting on it.
So it was hard to leave him in Minnesota on the first day of his
freshman year, and then get on a plane for home, knowing that we wouldn't see him again for months. But three days ago, my husband and I sat in the gymnasium at St. Olaf, listening to our son sing in the annual St. Olaf Christmas Festival. Seeing his joy, watching him take his place among 600 dedicated student musicians, hearing the extraordinary music produced by these incredibly gifted young people, we both knew that he ended up exactly where he was meant to be. He found that school, fell in love with it, chose it.
And hard as it was, because we did want him close, we were able to say, "We trust you to know what you want and to follow your heart."
He has grown tremendously from being so far from home, having to figure out plane fares and bus rides to the airport and storage solutions over the summer. And we have come to terms, best we can, with the fact that he's really not a kid anymore, he's a young man with a life of his own, a life that happens to be unfolding elsewhere, at least for now.
Commitment: You write with great honesty and openness about the struggles you faced with your youngest son Jack, who went through a period of "black clothing and blacker moods." You wrote, "When I looked at my son, I suddenly began to see beyond the black knit hat pulled low over his forehead and into his beautiful dark eyes instead. Instead of objecting to his clothes, I reminded myself that beneath those huge, dark, ugly layers beats a fragile heart, as vulnerable and frightened as my own. Rather than steering clear of his presence, I began deliberately to seek him out and to reclaim him, bit by bit, with back rubs and tenderness. To my surprise, I grew rather fond of his hair." What part of you did you have to tap into in order to stay connected and loving with him, despite his anger and pulling away from you?
Katrina: This is a great question. I think the answer is twofold. I needed to tap into my own faith, and to let go of fear. My son and I were both afraid during that time. He, of all the changes occurring both physically and emotionally. And me, of losing him, and also of how he might "turn out" if he continued on this dark path. Letting go of fear meant loving him as he was in the moment, with no worries about what might happen in the future. That allowed me to relax and
just "be," rather than trying so hard to control him, change him, or fix him.
It didn't mean that I stopped being a parent, or gave up
on rules and boundaries--but I did make a commitment to also
maintain a sense of humor and perspective, and to make a real
effort, moment to moment, to see what was good and true in Jack, and to love that. Once I let go a bit, he relaxed as well, and things just began to get easier.
Commitment: With everything you've experienced regarding home, from the home you created when your boys were little, to the new home you built on the mountaintop with a beautiful view, what are your thoughts on the importance of home when raising children?
Katrina: Home does not have to be big, or fancy, or even beautiful. But it does have to be a place in which someone has invested their time and devotion and careful attention. We've all been in huge houses full of expensive furnishings that do not feel at all homey. And we've probably been welcomed into extremely modest apartments, or tiny little tract houses, that are warm and cozy and inviting.
The difference is not size or expense then, it is care and attention. A real home is so much more than just some sheltering spot where we touch down between activities. To me, home is an ongoing creative act, an ever-changing canvas upon which I bestow my very best artistic efforts as well as the self-discipline necessary to keep things running smoothly. So, I take as much pleasure in vacuuming the floors and setting a closet to rights as I do in arranging flowers on the table or making dinner. I could see it all as drudgery, I suppose, this endless array of tasks needing to be done, and then done again. But instead I look at homemaking as one of the
great creative acts of my life. Cooking wonderful food, tending the garden in summer, decorating for the holidays--all these things give me pleasure in their own right, but they are also expressions of my love for my family.
Home is a gift we create together, and give to one another, over and over again, each time we serve a meal with
love, polish a candlestick till it shines, call the piano tuner,
water the houseplants. I hope that, having grown up in a house that truly is a home, my sons will never settle for less in their own lives, that they too will derive pleasure from tending the hearth and creating meaningful rituals in their homes, rather than feel compelled to keep up with the Joneses.
Bigger is not better. And home is not just a place, it is an enactment, or perhaps I should say, an ongoing endeavor, one that offers its own rich rewards if done well, and with love.
To purchase The Gift of an Ordinary Day click here.
About the Author: A graduate of Smith College, Katrina Kenison spent most of her adult life working in publishing, first as an in-house editor at Houghton Mifflin Company in New Haven, New York, and Boston, and then, from 1990 through 2006, working from home as the series editor of The Best American Short Stories.
She also co-edited, with John Updike, The Best American Short Stories of the Century. She is the author of Mitten Strings for God: Reflections for Mothers in a Hurry. With her yoga teacher, Rolf Gates, she wrote Meditations from the Mat: Daily Reflections on the Path of Yoga, and with Kathleen Hirsch she co-edited an anthology of short stories about motherhood, Mothers: Twenty Stories of Contemporary Motherhood.
Her writing has appeared in O, Real Simple, Family Circle, Redbook, and other publications.
Katrina lives in the New Hampshire countryside with her husband, sons, and their faithful border collie, Gracie.
