Harry Potter and The End of An Era

Julia looked around her cleared out bedroom, threw an overstuffed plaid duffel bag over her shoulder, and grabbed the last book of the Harry Potter series to re-read in the car. This was the day we moved her into her dormitory at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst for the first time. She tossed her curly red hair and rushed past me. I said, "Jul, I haven't read that one yet." She responded, "Can't you read it on Kindle?" Biting my lip, I tried not to cry. I snuggled up to her face, standing on tiptoes, and instead of kissing her cheek, blew a raspberry on it like I did when she was a toddler. She scrunched her nose and giggled, like she did then. Only this time she was humoring me, knowing how dreadfully I would miss her. My firstborn was leaving home, taking with her a huge hunk of my life.

That was two years ago. Now Tommy, 18, is counting down the days until he moves across the country to begin work as a personal trainer.

When Julia was 8 years old, Tommy was 6. We had been homeschooling for two years already. 3 year old Anthony and newborn Jack required most of my time and attention. So when I had heard about a book about a young wizard named Harry Potter, I splurged on the hardcover at once. Wanting to give attention to all four children, I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone aloud from the rocking glider while I nursed the baby each night. Julia and Tommy sat rapt as Harry learned that his parents who had been killed when he was an infant were both wizards. Potter was invited to attend Hogwarts, an academy for wizard children. Locked up under the stairs each night, Harry was unaware that an owl was delivering him invitation after invitation to attend the school. Despite his muggle (human) aunt and uncle's attempts to destroy every correspondence, Harry was personally visited by Headmaster Dumbledore and Hagrid, a sweet giant, who escorted him to Hogwarts. Julia and Tommy appreciated the story more than the little ones. Bravely, they did not fear the evil villain Voldemort as much as they did Harry's nasty aunt and uncle. On the rare night that I was too tired to read, Julia and Tommy refused to allow my husband to take over, because "Mommy knows how to do all the voices." Thankfully, this was before they had heard the audiobooks, which utilized authentic Scottish accents in addition to British. My Hagrid sounded slightly like he was from Alabama.

The following year, we took a family trip to Europe, traveling between countries European-style on the train. To pass the tedious hours and to keep everyone relatively quiet, I read aloud from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Rowling's second book, while my husband walked the aisles with toddler Jack. Harry discovered his special talent of speaking with snakes when he communicated with a python through the glass in a zoo enclosure. Several days later during a visit to Paris' Parc Zoologique, Julia and Tommy whispered to the snakes through the glass, attempting to recreate the scene. To my immense relief, neither spoke parceltongue.

Book Three was released on the day we held a garage sale. Tommy and I took a break from haggling over prices to buy the book immediately. I started reading it as soon as the last customer had handed over their quarter. I read until I was hoarse. All of us worried together about the ominous Sirius Black hunting Harry, until we discovered that he was actually Harry's godfather, and we dreaded the dark, soul-sucking dementors. When playing together, Julia, Tommy and Anthony frequently called "Expelliarmus!" on each other, putting a spell on each other which caused them to drop their imaginary wands. We talked about the world of Harry and Hogwarts as if it were real, while going about our mundane muggle errands like food shopping.

Harry, and his friends Ron and Hermione became family friends. Harry's first girlfriend Cho coincided with Julia becoming a teenager. She was as interested in this new facet of Harry's life as she was in her own. Still children, the boys noticed a difference in their sister. Julia, Harry, and the Hogwarts gang were changing.

As each book came, even though the children were perfectly capable of reading it independently, they waited for me to read it to them aloud. Book 4 was long enough to keep everyone's interest during a 6-hour plane delay at a French airport. In fact, we even attracted other weary travelers who surrounded us as I read.

When she was fourteen, Julia picked up the original book and read it silently for the first time. It was the first book she ever actually enjoyed, she said. She devoured each successive book again and again, as did Tommy. By the time Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (6) arrived, I read the book to just Anthony each night. Tommy read it independently on the day of release. At the end of the book, when Dumbledore died, Anthony and I wept.

Book 7 arrived to much fanfare, as we all knew it was to be the final in the series. Harry Potter would graduate from Hogwarts and go off into the wide wizard world on his own. This was the last time we would spend with Harry, the Weasleys and beloved Hagrid. Julia finished the book first, then Tommy, then Anthony. I never read it. Reading it to myself seemed lonely. I was not ready to say goodbye to Harry and the gang.

Each of these books was turned into a film, and tomorrow night is the opening of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2, the very last one. As always, Julia, Tommy and Anthony have tickets to the 12:01 showing. For the first time, Jack and I will attend with them. As sad as I was to take Julia to college, and to say goodbye to Tommy, I actually read the book this past weekend. It was time for me to face it: this part of our lives is over. Like Harry, Tommy and Julia must go off to begin their own, independent lives. Even if I had destroyed their acceptance letters like Harry's aunt and uncle (why didn't I think of that???), Julia and Tommy would grow up. They wouldn't need me to homeschool them, or read aloud to them, forever. It is what I and my husband always wanted for them, and how it is supposed to be. I am proud that they are moving away from the tight homeschooling community into a larger world, but I am not ready to close the book on them, or Harry. I look forward to reading these books to my future grandchildren.

I Believe in You

In Tina Fey’s fourth Emmy acceptance speech, she self-deprecatingly credited her parents. “I want to thank my parents for somehow raising me to have confidence that is disproportionate with my looks and abilities. Well done. That is what all parents should do.” Tina Fey entered the precarious, male-dominated field of comedy. Her parents could have discouraged her. They could have told her she wasn't pretty enough, or talented enough, or that the field was simply too hard to enter.

My own intelligent 20 year old daughter, Julia, could succeed as a diplomat, an international business leader, and a network executive. Her work ethic is unparalleled and she has a multitude of skills and knowledge. She has a 3.8 at the University of Massachusetts with a double major. Her plan: to be a Disney princess! This is the same dream she had when she was four.

Is it a parent’s role to unconditionally support a child’s decisions? Or is it the parent’s responsibility to protect the child from making mistakes? I think it is my role to unconditionally support the decisions, regardless of my opinion of them.

Truthfully, I am nervous for her. It is possible that she won't make the cut. Maybe she will get a role but won't make enough money to pay her bills. I could tell her “That’s a frivolous career. You are too smart, serious, studious for that. Try engineering like Dad. Try accounting like your grandfather.” But I keep it to myself. To her, I say, “You’ll be an excellent princess. Let’s research how you can get a job in a Disney theme park."

There are plenty of people willing to squash a young person’s dreams. In the field of acting, there are legions of agents, casting directors, and other actors whose sole purposes seems to be to strip an actor of dignity and hope. There are well-meaning, loving people in my family, two of whom raised me (whose identity shall remain cleverly disguised), who helpfully encourage my children to pursue careers they view as more practical. But things have changed in our economy since their heyday in the 1960s. Prestigious careers of old no longer exist. Attorneys discourage their children from attending law school. Doctors warn to steer clear of medicine. All I know with certainty is that I will not know what careers will exist in five years. New careers crop up regularly. Just because we are adults does not mean we are clairvoyant. I can’t see the future. I can only see my bright, optimistic children, growing into adults.

Tina Fey’s parents could have suggested that Tina become a math teacher. Tina would still have loved them and probably thanked them in her acceptance speech. But they believed in their daughter’s ability to make her dreams come true. As a result, Tina has risen to the top in a fiercely competitive field. Against all odds, she is the Emmy-award winning creator, writer, and star of a successful network television show.

As a mother, I don’t have to believe in my children’s dreams. I have to believe in my children. There will always be well-meaning friends and relatives to burst their bubbles. I want to be the person who always, always has confidence in them. I hope if any of my kids ever win an Emmy, they will thank me for my unrelenting belief that they would make it.

Creative Parenting

"How are you creative?" This question, posed by Chad Brannon on twitter, got me thinking about creativity. I instantly rejected the obvious: painting (I'm too messy), drawing (do you like this stick figure? 0
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musical instruments (not since high school). Then it occurred to me that parenting my four children, each with very specific and unique desires, is where my creativity lies.

When they were toddlers, it was simple to make up a song on the spot that taught how to wash hands. Even a purple dinosaur could do it. As the kids have gotten bigger, so have the challenges.

I remember teaching my daughter how to multiply by 10. It was harder than I'd thought. She was very bright and had learned addition and subtraction instantly. But looking at the problems on the page, she couldn't understand multiplying the tens by the ones and adding a zero to the end. I continued explaining, she continued being confused. Before we both became frustrated, I changed paths. We both stood up. We enlisted the help of her younger brothers. Julia stood with one arm straight in the air; she was the number 1. Tommy, with his arms overhead in an "O" became zero. I yelled out, "1 times 10 is, jump to the left," Julia leapt to the left, Tommy stood to her right. "10" they replied. We continued. "10 times 10 is, jump to the left," adding Anthony to the right as another zero. "100." With one lesson, all three learned the simplicity of multiplying by 10. I chalk that lesson up as a win.

They aren't always wins. But it's the losses that push me to explore my creative limits further.

On vacation, we decided to order dinner in one night. The six of us, two vegans, two fish eaters, two vegetarians bickered about the cuisine. "Let's get Greek."
"There's nothing I can eat from the Greek restaurant."
"I want Italian."
"Everything Italian has cheese in it. I don't eat cheese."
Exhausted and hungry, I started snapping at everyone. I tried to force everyone to agree. That failed. We took a vote; it was split evenly. Finally, I decided to just get everyone exactly what he or she wanted. My husband and I ordered one dish from every ethnic restaurant, then drove around the island picking it up. When we returned, everyone was surprisingly thrilled to share and enjoy what became our new tradition: "International Night."

Raising children who can wash their own hands, multiply, and eat with chopsticks is how I am creative. How do you express your creativity?