Cool Moms Care

No worries.

By the time this article is published, my daughter will be on a beach vacation with her biological father. She’s going away for a total of 12 days, and I find the prospect a paradox of sorts- exciting and terrifying, filled with anticipation of new memories and at once plagued by my daughter and I missing one another and looking forward to being together again.

I am excited for her to have a vacation in a new place spending time with people she doesn’t get to see often. In the same way, she’s looking forward to making sandcastles, playing in the ocean, and going out to dinner. She’ll perhaps even be able to do some other new activities- putt-putt, anyone? There’s something soothing and energizing about the beach, and some of my favorite memories from childhood are those seaside times.

At the same moment, however, I am utterly terrified, and she’s showing some hints of nervousness, too. ‘What ifs’ are exploding in my head like popcorn in a microwavable bag, and I know that until she comes home safely I’m going to be a bundle of nerves. I’ve found myself hugging and snuggling and kissing her so much in the past few days that she’s beginning to say, “Mom, enough!”

As parents we’re natural worriers, but we have strong desires to balance that cautiousness with a dedication to expose our children to all the world has to offer. That balance, at times, seems to be such a fine line that it is nearly impossible to achieve. Maybe the most fun and challenging part of being a parent is trying to walk that thin line. We tell them to spread their wings one minute and long for them to sit in our laps the next.

I’m reading Crazy Love by Francis Chan, and Chan makes the argument that it is simply arrogant to worry. He writes that worrying is an activity reserved for those of us who think our own lives so important and our own selves so mighty that we doubt the one who made us. For Christians, it’s as if we sometimes assume that we have accomplished all we have without the help of a mighty Creator, which we know at root is absurd. I was so struck by this (convicted, if you will) that I’m trying to train myself to think about this situation differently.

For the duration of my daughter’s trip, I’ve decided that every time I worry I’m going to remember that something greater is in control, and I challenge you to do the same. Each time you worry about your kids- whether it’s in the nursery or the swimming pool, resolve to do your best as a parent and then let it go. Make an earnest effort to fill your mind and heart with something other then worry, like an optimistic anticipation of the future.

And then ask me how I did next Monday.

- Mary Cady Bolin

I am sitting at the breakfast bar in my kitchen, writing on my laptop and looking out into the backyard. We live in one of those delightful old neighborhoods where the houses are so close together that, for yards, we say we have a ‘front postage stamp’ and a ‘back postage stamp.’

There’s a tall old tree in the back left-hand corner of the lot which I honestly didn’t know was even a tree until about a week ago. Strong vines and thick foliage had so smothered the trunk that I assumed it was a lost cause to even bother getting into that section of the yard.

That is until last week when my husband of three weeks announced he was going build a treehouse for my 4 year-old daughter in the neglected section of the backyard, using the forgotten old tree as a solid base.

From where I sit right now, I can see my husband, lean and strong, tearing down the massive vines from the tree and clearing the space around the trunk for construction. Most of the overgrowth has been here much longer than he has owned the house, and the labor is difficult at best. This forgotten back section of the yard has become a breeding ground for mosquitoes and the inattention to the area makes it a maze of complicated vines to crawl through. His excitement about this project for Caroline, though, has overshadowed the hard work it’s taking to begin construction, and he’s been out there clearing and measuring every night for a week.

And this is where I am thankful that my daughter has a man in her life who wants to build her a treehouse no matter the obstacles. He is, very literally, taking something ugly and overgrown that many people would just leave alone and working to make it a playground for her, all because he knows it will make her happy. What a gift.

Single moms know the frustration of parenting solo better than anyone around, and what makes parenting alone much more difficult than anything else is the pain and guilt you feel as you long for a father for your kids. To make matters worse, society reminds these women often that girls without fathers are more likely to do drugs, face unplanned pregnancies, and marry for all the wrong reasons. Likewise, statistics show that boys without fathers are less likely to be well educated and more likely to commit crimes.

Fortunately, fathers don’t exist only in biological forms or as step-fathers. Fathers can be baseball coaches, youth pastors, and teachers. Fathers can be brothers, as was the case for me, uncles, grandfathers, and cousins.

As I write I am thinking of my daughter asleep upstairs, knowing what “B” is building for her in the backyard. She’s too young to see the treehouse as anything more than just what it is- a treehouse with the potential for a million memories and climbing galore- but I’m not.

When I look out my window I see a man who’s worked all day and comes home to work some more, all because he loves her. I see him batting at bugs and ripping up vines to make her a place to run and play and have sleepouts under the stars. I see a man I prayed would come into our lives, and I see a man who is a father. Fortunately for me, he’s also my best friend.

This is when Brian looks up, sees me though the window, and smiles. Happy Father’s Day.

- Mary Cady Bolin