Tag: mother

Family, Friends and Neighbors

Happy Mother’s Day!

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Dear Reader:

I’ve collected quotations since I was a teenager…the wise words of others who seem to know exactly how I feel. There are bits of paper, handmade notebooks and beautifully printed books scattered among the shelves and drawers in my pink room. And, there’s an entire category of my blog devoted to the brilliantly pithy thoughts of others.

There are a few quotations that are so special that I can recite them verbatim. There’s one that I can still recall reading for the first time. It’s also the first words to appear when one googles “quotes about motherhood,” so it must resonate with many other parents.

“Making the decision to have a child — it’s momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”

Elizabeth Stone

I encountered that quotation for the first time a few days after my only child, my lovely daughter, was born. A friend had given me a journal for mothers that included space for my own entries along with the wise words of other parents. I’ve still got that gift, 23 years later! I never wrote a word of my own in the book, but I read all the entries.

Certainly, I didn’t have a lot of time for writing in those early days, but I think the pages were left blank for another reason, too. My feelings about my baby were too deep to convey. Initially, I fell in love with her tiny toes and chubby thighs. I cherished the moments the two of us shared in the dark of the night in the rocking chair in the corner of her nursery. I marveled that my husband and I could create such a beautiful little thing.

And, then my baby grew. It was still hard to put into words the depth of my joy and awe. She kept me busy. She was quick and curious and into everything. One night after she’d gone to bed, my husband and I child-proofed all the cabinets. The next morning she screamed in protest when she found she couldn’t open them.

It was about that time that I went back to work leaving her at a day care center run from a small family home in my neighborhood. The mother/daughter team who looked after her had been in business for more than 20 years. I could see the surprise in their faces the day they told me that they had to take extra measures to keep my daughter from getting out of the playroom. Apparently, no other child had challenged their security system in the same way.

Shortly after that, I came to the realization that I didn’t want to miss a single one of her escapades! I quit my job and never looked back. I was a feminist and a stay-at-home mom and I knew that I was blessed.

It’s still hard to put into words how I feel about my daughter. I feel inadequate to the task. But, I’ll try. My daughter is a capable, accomplished adult with a college degree and a job. But, it is her personal attributes that are most impressive. The curiosity she displayed as a baby and toddler are still evident, but she is a composed, quiet and thoughtful woman. She is, most of all, the kindest person I know and for that I could not be more grateful.

In years past, I visited my daughter in San Luis Obispo to celebrate Mother’s Day. She was attending Cal Poly University and those trips were such fun. We celebrated with donuts at SLODOCO, walks around downtown and conversations about her future as she approached the end of her college education. We never could have imagined what this year would bring. I’m so happy my heart is under my roof this Mother’s Day.

Hugs,

Michele

Family, Friends and Neighbors

A Hufflepuff, of Course!

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Dear Reader:

It’s not easy being a mother; it seems someone is always at the ready to judge our performance. My daughter is a full-grown 21-year-old college student, and yet, I sometimes still meet with the harsh disapproval of another mother.

It happened over lunch when my friend asked for Natalie’s telephone number.  I could not recite it.

“I don’t know her number,” I said. “I’d have to check my phone and I left that at home.”

My response was met with a simple one word reply: “REALLY?!” The disbelief in her voice matched the mortified look on her face. And, I felt absolutely horrible. Many months ago. This was months ago and, mind you, I’m still talking about it.

However, today I’m remembering the event because I felt a slight reprieve come my way when another friend asked a somewhat more personal question about my daughter and I was ready with an authoritative answer.

“I’m visiting the park in Florida and I wonder if you could ask Nats what Hogwarts House she’s in so I could buy her a piece of memorabilia?”

“HUFFLEPUFF,” I responded immediately. “What kind of mother doesn’t know what house their child is in?!”

My mother confidence was restored in that moment!

Michele

P.S. I’m a Ravenclaw…how about you?

Family, Friends and Neighbors, Physical Fitness, Mental Health and Growing Older

The Future Has Red Finger Nails!

 

mother/daughter hands

Dear Reader:

Of course, I’m not younger than I was seven months ago when I began working with my personal trainer. But, I feel strong, light, energetic and confident…traits we associate with youth. I could almost forget how old I am, but hands do not lie. I am 58 years old and my daughter is twenty-one. And, this picture reflects the story of our life as mother and daughter.

Natalie is wearing a ring that belonged to my mother. My sister was given a jewelers bag filled with small treasures after mom’s death and passed this on to Natalie. I’m wearing a ring with my birthstone (aquamarine) that my husband purchased for me on a trip to Maui many years ago. There is both pain and joy reflected in the gifts of those rings.

My mother missed the opportunity to know her only grandchild who now wears her ring. She was a deeply troubled woman and I have no regrets about my decision to exclude her from my life or that of my daughter. But, she gave me life and I am grateful for that gift.

The life my husband and I built with my daughter gave me purpose. Today I revel in both the wisdom of my years and the strength of my body and spirit. My life is so much better now than it was 20 or 30 years ago, and one of my greatest joys as I age is watching my daughter mature, too.

Michele

Family, Friends and Neighbors

Like Mother…Not Like Daughter!

My daughter
My lovely daughter

Dear Reader:

When a woman gives birth to a daughter, I believe she consciously, or subconsciously, believes her daughter will resemble her in many ways. But why? It is an odd assumption upon thoughtful consideration. Why should she be more like her mother than her father? I’ve asked myself that question now for 21 years.

My daughter is her own person, but she is more like her father than she is like me. I can accept this…despite the fact that it took 28 hours of hard labor followed by an emergency c-section to bring her into this world!

I wonder at the differences!

She is:

  • ambitious but not competitive; I am competitive but not ambitious
  • reserved, i burst
  • quietly thoughtful, I am obviously opinionated
  • forgiving and patient; I try

She loves:

  • lace and florals; I like stripes and animal print
  • teal; I love pink
  • Thunder Mountain; I love It’s a Small World
  • Harry Potter and Jane Austen; I love Tinker Bell and Danielle Steel

But, we do share some common opinions and interests. We are both feminists, but she does not like to wear it on her t-shirt. We love donuts, doxies, Disneyland and Maui. We are happy when we are shopping at Lululemon or Target, walking the streets of London in rain or shine and sipping from English china while perusing beautiful books.

And, most importantly, we still love spending time in each other’s company. I hope that never changes.

Is your daughter very much like you, dear reader? Or is she more like her father?!

Michele

Family, Friends and Neighbors

Caveat Emptor!

 

Oops!
OMG…these socks are obscene!

 

Dear Reader:

Let the buyer beware is very good advice! I should have considered it before I impulsively picked up an innocent looking pair of socks sitting by the cash register and added it to my purchase of a very respectable t-shirt.

In my defense:

  • My daughter had returned to school after her Spring Break the day before and I was feeling sentimental and missing her.
  • Winnie had chewed up my “evening/bedtime socks” and I needed another pair.
  • They were wrapped in ribbon imprinted with the brand name MOTHER, MOTHER, MOTHER and folded so that you could only read “MOTHER”.

I really feel that the sales girl in the chic little shop on Ocean Avenue should have warned me. But, since she did not…Winnie’s got two new chew toys!

Michele

Family, Friends and Neighbors, Physical Fitness, Mental Health and Growing Older

It’s Not Over Until it’s Over

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Next time we’ll have a Sangria together, as she’ll be legal!

Dear Reader:

I visited my nearly 21-year-old daughter at college this weekend and over dinner I looked at her and said: “I like who you are becoming.”

She paused and so I felt the need to explain my random, motherly comment.

“You know… you are evolving, becoming an adult,” I clarified.

“Thank you, Mom,” she said. “But aren’t we all becoming someone?”

Well, that’s just the way my daughter is….wonderful and wise and inspiring! Indeed it would be rather boring and depressing if I were not also continuing to become someone. In fact, it is our shared evolution that binds us even closer.

I talk to her about my new adventures in the blogosphere and she shares the challenges and rewards of renting her first apartment. We hold each other accountable to the fitness goals we’ve set. She shares her academic successes and I recount how proud I feel when my puppy Winnie piddles in the appropriate place. We dream of our next trip to London…she to study and me and her dad to sightsee. I can see that even our relationship has become something new and beautiful. I’ll always be her mother, first, but it’s great to feel the warmth of her understanding as a friend, too.

I love that she reminded me that the joys of evolution are not simply for the young.

Here’s to getting better and better all the time,

Michele

 

Family, Friends and Neighbors, Grief and Loss

Mean Mothers

Dear Reader:

As we drove home from Southern California yesterday, my husband asked me, “Does Mother’s Day upset you or make you sad in a way?”

I knew exactly what he meant, but the question still took me by surprise as I was quite happily surveying grape orchards and remembering the events of the weekend. If you know me from my blog, you know how proud I am of my daughter and the close relationship we share. If you are one of my dear friends, you begin every visit with the question, “How’s your daughter?” I love talking about my daughter. I simply adore her. She is my single greatest source of pride.

So, why should Mother’s Day in any way upset me? Well, the answer has to do with my mother. She died three years ago on the morning after my daughter had major surgery at Stanford Hospital. In life, my mom had loved being the center of attention and so the timing of her death seemed appropriate.

One of the nurses heard me take the emergency call from my sister and she became immediately quite concerned about my state of mind. My daughter was scheduled to spend four days in the hospital, but she would need continuous home care for several weeks. The doctors and nurses, my husband and I soon realized, were training us to take care of her at home. Her release would be determined not only by her condition, but also by our ability to care for her. The hospital chaplain was alerted to our situation and within the hour began appearing at our door. My husband shooed her away several times while I snoozed, but she was determined to talk to me.

“Ah, good, you’re eating!” she exclaimed as she approached me late that night in the cafeteria. “I’m Dusty, the hospital’s multi-faith chaplain and I’m here to see if you’d like to talk.”

Really I just wanted to eat, but I was polite. I thanked her for her concern and let her know that I was tired, but fine, and that I knew exactly what I needed to do:  take care of my daughter.

“But,” she continued, “it’s hard to take care of someone else when you are suffering yourself.”

How could she know that was exactly what I’d told myself for years when I thought about my mother? She was simply unable to be kind or nurturing as she was in pain. The explanation served to protect me from completely absorbing the constant emotional assault she inflicted on everyone close to her. My mother died without having a relationship with me or knowing her only grandchild. “She’s no longer in pain,” I told Dusty and I left her to interpret the comment in any way she chose. I returned to my coffee and eggs as she left finally satisfied that she had done her job.

A week later I found myself speeding down the freeway to attend my mother’s funeral. I paid my last respects to the woman who had created me and who had, I think, helped determine the happy course of my life.

“You know we may not have Natalie if it weren’t for my mother,” I answered my husband.

I missed out on having a strong bond with my own mother; maybe that’s why I finally decided at 35 to throw away my birth control pills!   We all make choices and those choices are often based on needs we may not even consciously be aware of. Maybe I needed a strong mother/daughter bond. I did not have that with my own mom, so I set about to create it with my daughter.

It has been many many years since I felt anything for my mother, but it took time and counseling to resolve issues from my childhood. It seems to me that it is still taboo to speak about one’s mother in anything but appreciative terms, but for those readers who can relate to my story, I’m sorry… and I’d like to offer the following book recommendations: Mean Mothers by Peg Streep and Mothering Without a Map by Kathryn Black.

I’ll borrow Ralph Waldo Emerson’s words to perfectly describe my feelings about my life: “For everything you have missed, you have gained something else…”

I am so fortunate to be able to celebrate Mother’s Day with my daughter. Happy ending!

Sincerely,

Michele