As you know, or if you don’t – here’s your friendly reminder! – Sunday is Mother’s Day. I am pretty sure I wrote a post about mom last year, but I’ve slept since then.
My mom had me at the ripe old age of 20. She was always this beautiful, young person to me when I was a kid. My mom liked cool music, my mom had a lot of friends, my mom did calisthenics (and Sweatin’ to the Oldies and Buns of Steele). And as soon as I stumbled into the double digits, my mom and I began to clash. I’d never been an adolescent before and she had no clue what to with one, and a surly, dramatic one at that. I, ever the classic first-born, wanted to badly to please and my mom struggled against the critical spirit handed down to her by her mother. Something I admit that I struggle with too.
For a long time my mom and I tried to love each other like a mom and daughter should, but I didn’t feel good enough for her and she didn’t feel loved enough by me. In fact, when singer-songwriter Cindy Morgan put out the song “Mother’ from her Postcards album, it was like she read my diary or something!
And then I had my son, Jonah. Suddenly she wasn’t just that woman who gave birth to me, she was my comrade, my friend, a fellow mother. I am betting a lot of us feel like this. I see now how my mom sacrificed, how she battled her own demons of a hurt-filled past and somehow still managed to take care of us, how she and my dad have kept their marriage and family together for more than 30 years, how she is a mother-bear, ready to take on anyone who messes with her kids. She is compassionate and empathetic. This past year, she has cried with me, had her own sleepless nights and heartache all because my heart ached. Can you ask for anything better? Nope.
My mom doesn’t read blogs . . . in fact I am typing on the laptop she and my dad gave me because they weren’t using it, but Mom, I love you. You have taught me so much about mothering, about being a friend and about being a woman. I cherish you and pray for you. Thanks for being my mama.