Own your weird quirky shit (and own your kids’ and your spouse’s weird shit)
When Spencer was 7 years old and realized he could have an opinion outside of mine (rude), he got into the car at the school pick-up line and said, “Mom, I want to play the cello."
“For fucks sake, could you have picked a larger instrument, please? And is there something wrong with surfing? Your dad is a super good surfer. What about lacrosse? I’m from Maryland and that’s super cool”— was what I wanted to say.
However, I refrained and said, “Oh baby that’s great!” Cello, seriously? Yes, cello! So like all of Spencer’s interests,(trains, planes, and automobiles, I know more than any individual person cares to know about those things) I jumped on board and was the proud mother of a cellist.
So you know what I did, I shouted that shit from the rooftops. And you know what? My friends and family thought it was cool too. Why? Because I put it out to the universe that it was the coolest thing ever. You know what, it is the coolest thing ever.
One year for my Chanukah present, Spencer learned a Chris Cornell song and played it for me. That is way cooler than surfing or playing lacrosse. But I had no idea he would do something that awesome. I just supported him because that’s all I could do. Spencer had enough to worry about in his short little life up to that point. He spent 40 hours a week in therapy from 2-5 years old and had to be papoosed (put in a straight jacket ) just to go see the ENT or to have blood drawn. No mother should ever have to see that happen to their 4-year-old child. It goes against our parenting DNA to watch our babies suffer. But I did. So if he wanted to play the cello, I was going to be the best cello parent I could be. I thought the cello is cool, he could play cello in a rock n roll band. But Spencer likes jazz music (I hate it) and classical music. His dreams were not to go on tour with Chris Cornell (damn, I thought I would finally get to meet Chrissy backstage). Oh ok, I get it, those are my dreams. Got it! So I supported cello emotionally and financially, and now everyone thought cello was cool — so of course, Spencer quits playing 11 years later. “Ummm hello but I’m on board and you can get a scholarship to college,” I said. Spencer told me he was done, it was no longer fun for him. He didn’t quit in the middle of a season. He completed all of his responsibilities to his orchestra, so I supported his decision. What’s the moral of the story? Whatever you put out to the universe will and DOES come back exactly the same way. We made cello cool before Chris Cornell toured with only his guitar and his cellist. Own your weird quirky shit and own your kids and your spouse’s weird shit. Own it loud and proud! My friends think I am crazy with my newest obsession with bluebirds, most of them hate my extremely cool taste in music, and can’t stand that I swear like a truck driver. Don’t care. The good news is they don’t care. So today go out and claim your obsession with stamps or dungeons and dragons or maybe you are “normal” and that’s super cool too. In the meantime, you can catch me bird watching. (Sure wish I paid better attention in my ornithology class in college, I have so many questions now!)
P.S. Spencer is the coolest kid I know.
Hi! I’m Elise Montgomerie, and I’m here to help you cut through the bulls**t so you can heal your relationships, career, and life.
My work is deep — like healing your inner child, tackling your demons, getting brutally honest with yourself — deep.
With grace and patience (mixed with a hint of tough love), I help my clients plow through blockages and finally live the lives they’re meant to live.
