A few years ago I was reading a story about brothers. The descriptions of their mother really struck me. The things they held on to…. the way they felt loved by her in these minuscule little things.
It made me quickly think on my own parenting. Sam thinks of his mother as this gentle loving person. Jake loves his mom so well- he is so good to her, and she is this involved and positive person for him and all of us. Naz, my God, that girl spoils her mom every day. Joaline and her mom are best friends… and when you hear them talk about the care their mothers took to be their moms, they become heroes.
I got nervous about what my kids would remember about me. The nag the harps on them to do their chores, the yeller and enforcer of curfews, rules… spiritual principle, even if you have to eat it for dinner or go to bed hungry. ( although I have NEVER sent them to bed without dinner)
I don’t have those stories about my mom. She left when I was 5 and that’s all she wrote. I don’t have a clue how to be a good mom from any first hand experience. I rely on what I read and what I feel from people I respect. I can’t even go on instinct. With my upbringing, I aught not be trying any of that shit at home, NONE.
In analyzing other peoples relationships with their moms, I just wanted to be more conscious of what my kids are left with.
I remember that my Mom was the best colorer in the whole world. She made great Beef with wheat dumplin’s. She would eat gingersnap cookies with sharp cheddar cheese. For some reason she always smelled like flowers. She had the most gorgeous golden brown hair that went all the way to her butt. She would rip up old sheets and tie her hair in the strips like hair rollers to get it curly the way she liked it. She had the best, curviest handwriting. She knew shorthand. She had a notebook on the dryer in the kitchen. She would write a little description of each picture next to its number ( in the shorthand) so she could write in on the back of the pictures after they were developed. She kept every piece of everything from the time we were born until she left us when I was 5. -Even our baby books and the hospital bracelets, down to notes on when Daniel cut each one of his teeth. When I was 26, I called her and asked if we could see her. She said no, but she mailed it all to me. Everything she had left of us.
Funny, she put a note in the box, she said she felt it was evidence of her bad mothering because she hadn’t filled in every part of our baby books.
You know, not one of my kids has a baby book. It’s all in a bag. Well it was. One of the kids got into it a few years ago and lost the important stuff. And I yelled like a crazy woman and cried like I needed to be committed. Those memories were the most precious things I had.
My mom wasn’t the mom who stayed home and baked cookies or kissed your scraped knee. But I really needed to be that. And Sam let me. I was home with them and nursed them all for years each… My house was never perfect and I wasn’t often sweet; but today if you asked them about me… for some reason, they will tell you about my French onion soup or the volunteering I do in their classes… Miah would tell you my door is always open or that I have always loved her dad even after Leslie and their baby.
They sure forgive us a lot. As I hope I have been able to do for my own parents. I want my kids to grow up feeling they have been loved, protected and contributed to, significantly. I want them to know the magnitude that I have loved them, deliberately. I do strive to be a person who loves with deliberation.
If they can grow up and overlook the bullshit, of me not having a fucking clue what I’m doing we’ll be ok. I really did drop Naz on her head when she was 3 weeks old. I did tell Miah I was going to chain her to the porch, and I meant it- every word of it- for all of like 20 minutes. But I was dead serious for that 20 minutes and she was skeerd to blink. Addy, If I would have listened to the dr’s she wouldn’t even be here and I have to look at her and live with that every day of my life.
But I love my kids. They are such amazingly loving and open people.
Today Miah called me at 7 in the morning because she wouldn’t have a phone all day if she didn’t call just then. She said, "I miss you mom… " then she went on to tell me about her Sunday and How this Mom and her 7 year old came in and how impressed she was with this kid. She said, "Mom, she could have been one of your kids. Articulate. She spoke well. She was animated and understood art and music. It just felt good to be around her." I quipped. " Miah, you just took yourself out of the equation, like you’re not one of my kids…" She let me know she was referring to ’ for her age ’.
It felt good. It’s a gift Miah being nearly 17 while Nazy and Addy are 11 and 9. It’s evidence that the crazy and the strict has paid off. And she appreciates it in time to validate me for Nazy and Addy.
Now these kids have some great fun. It’s not all serious, rules and chores. With the music and the food and the people and the traveling we’ve done- they get to let their hair down. But they damn sure will do it while knowing how to respect people and make sure people feel loved and welcome.
When they grow up and spend their well earned money in a therapists chair, just like the rest of us- I hope that Quack can sift through the crazy to affirm the love, cause I do love them. A ton. They will be armed with many-a-stories about their crazy mom, tho. And so will their friends- cause I treat them just like they’re mine.
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