I can't tell you how to be a good mom. I have often wondered what the marker of a good parent is. Is it the amount of time you spend, the knowledge and wisdom you pass on to your child? The success that they bring in their lifetime to make you proud? I think "mothers day" has evolved for me. Has changed in ways I can't explain if you haven't experienced it. I can only do this in parts...
My mom: My mom and I don't have the typical daughter/mother relationship that a women in her mid thirties normally has. I can't call her when my children are driving me crazy, I can't go home and cry when life is hard, and let her bake me cookies and sleep in my old room. My mom has had MS for years, she lives in a nursing home, and obviously that changes the dynamic. I became the parent. I make decisions on what she can eat, what medicines they give her, what days I will bring my children to visit. Pushing your mom in a wheelchair years before her time feels unfair. It robs you of something you didn't know you needed. We bring her gifts, movies and pictures, and things to fill room 410, but it won't take away the emptiness. What I can do is remember what she gave us...the ability to accept others where they are. She was a para professional for children with special needs long before I knew what that meant. She taught us to stand up for others who had no voice. I didn't know the depth of this lesson at the time.
Being a step mom: I know I have written before about how I never wanted this. Especially all of a sudden a parent to teenagers I didn't know as toddlers. About how I never knew I could love other children like my own. There would be too much jealousy, too much competition....But if there was ever a time when you had to begin to understand selflessness, it would be step parenting. You hurt when they do but its hard to show it, when they cry, when they learn, and you never get the credit...But you don't care. You love anyway. You learn unconditional, you learn acceptance. And the gift I have been given opened my eyes to something I never understood. If I could tell my step children one thing, it would be how they made me a better person, and how glad I am we had a little bit of time together.
My Boys: I don't have the time or the writing skills to express my love for these four beautiful sons I get to call my own.
My Luke. My musical, intelligent, intuitive gentleman. I have prayed you would turn out like you have. Graduation this year, and I can guarantee that I will be a sobbing disaster. A crying, embarrassing person that has shared concerts, pizza, 80s movies, and hopefully enough anecdotal wisdom to last you a lifetime. I will always be here supporting you in anything you choose. This week when you called me to say you were being offered a job as a support professional for kids with autism, I talked about how experienced you were when you hesitated and how great you would be. After the call, I cried and thought about how much you would bring to the world.
My Chandler. Who has taught the world so much about accepting, about joy, and about the fact that we all have something to teach, and give. You are smarter than anyone knows. Your funny laugh, and the way you sense things we don't. You are like a "star child", someone who can topple what is normal, whose extra senses and feelings can somehow bring society to the point where we accept YOUR energies and values. Maybe your way is better. I will never stop fighting for you.
My youngest. Elliott and Sawyer. My yin and yang. My sweet, thoughtful quiet boy and my curious, energetic, personality forward sweetheart. I love you both more than you will ever know. Every day brings something beautiful. Today, I picked you up in the rain. You came bursting out the door of your dads house, with two plastic bags. Potted flowers, poems, and picture magnets. Things written in your shaky handwriting. We told your dad we were going to the new disney movie, and really we went to Avengers: Age of Ultron, and we bought as much popcorn and candy as you could carry. On the way home, we passed a woman on the curb with a sign that she was homeless. I don't care if it was true or not. Sawyer handed my last 5 dollar bill out the back window in the rain. His little voice "Hello?" and then woman in her green poncho got teary-eyed... "thank you sweetheart, tell your mama Happy Mothers Day." Sawyer "I will." And with his big eyes, he asked if she would be okay. We hung out, and read stories, and I didn't need anything else.
My husband:
The first mothers day after we got married. Breakfast in bed, a Vegas puzzle, letting me sleep in, you baked me a chocolate cake, got me a facial and pedicure, and better than anything? You made me feel like the best mom on earth. You knew why I needed this. And your support means everything.
My heart is bursting with love, and aching for what I don't have, what others don't have. But I know how lucky I am. I know that my children know love. That I have figured out the key to how to be a good mom, and that is....to simply hold out your hand, accept them for who they are, and watch them grow into amazing beings. Cry in front of them. Talk to them. Laugh with them. Let them do silly things. Indulge them, but teach them values. The best job, the hardest, and the most rewarding. Mom.
