Oh Motha'

Took a little break from blogging this weekend to hang out with this little duderoni and his mama:

  

 

If you missed them, check out Thursday's post with some angsty, young-adult poetry, as well as Friday's post recapping some of my all-time fav childhood books. Don't forget to comment with some of your favorites.

This weekend I was able to witness in-person just how hard and yet rewarding it is being a mother. It's an all-hands-on deck, constant attention, never-stop-moving role. I was in awe of my friend's (seemingly) endless energy and thoughtfulness toward her son. Her care surpasses checking boxes on a chore list and extends to making the extra effort to make him smile or show him something new about the world - not once in a while, EVERY DAY. And she works full time. This woman needs a medal. It also was crazy to see so clearly how being a mother has changed my lovely friend in so many amazing ways. Her love for her son is tangible and I think that's why he is the most happy, content, and curious (almost) nine-month-old I've ever met. Even though just watching her made me tired, somewhere in the back of my mind I felt myself starting to believe I can maybe, perhaps, I hope be a mother one day.

Keep in mind, I grew up around babies and mothers - young and old. Looking back on my youth, I think my mother made it look easy - bouncing a baby on her hip, soothing a cranky toddler, checking spelling on someone's homework, heating up some apple cider on the stove, talking on the telephone - all while having perfect 90s hair and the body of an 18-year-old. She seemed to take it all in stride - and to even enjoy it most of the time. (I guess I was too young to witness some of her early meltdowns. ;)) Of course, it wasn't easy. Raising six, eight children simply cannot be. It's not logical. No, she was not perfect but she loved us fiercely and still does. I have never questioned that.

My mother's mother, my grandmother, passed away in 2010, a few months before our wedding. As I've written about before here, she was a loving, talented, faithful, and magical woman who had a profound effect on every life she touched. She was taken FAR too early in her life - and her loss was felt by the flocks of people who came to her funeral. She and my mother didn't always have the best relationship but they had a special connection, as my mother was my grandmother's only child with my grandfather. My grandparents later divorced and my grandmother remarried, eventually giving birth to three more girls - my mom's step sisters. The hole that my grandmother's death left in my mother was shocking. I think early on I thought, "Give it a few months and mom will be OK." And now I better understand that my mother will never be OK without her mother. Just as you and I will never be OK without our mothers. Yes, we will get out of bed in the morning, dress in the darkness for work, force down some buttered toast, and face the day, but all of it is done with a piece missing. An essential piece of who we are. So, we will limp along through life without them.

Mothers, you amaze me. Where would this world be without you? You represent an eternal optimism, a hope for humanity that cannot be shaken. Thank you for being so selfless and hardly ever sitting down. For creating magical songs and games to bring us out of our sadness or boredom. For supporting us through our wildly nonsensical adventures. For meeting new boyfriends and fiancés and partners with endless optimism and love. For always bending and stretching our family circles to welcome new members with open arms. 

And thank you for never, ever giving up on us.

xo,

L