Mother's Day

Oh Mother's Day...you bittersweet holiday.

This year it's been 20 years since my mother died. 20 years. It's so hard to believe, because in many ways she is still here with us. In thoughts and memories and in the stories I tell my kids so that they can know her too.

When she first died, there was this heavy sense of loss. Of collapsing grief. Of where do I fit into the world as a daughter without a mother? Life had a different perspective. I remember driving up to my house and knowing that it wasn't home anymore. Things were broken.

As time has moved on, as it  does, my perspective has changed. My initial grief was so much part of me. I wore that grief, like I wore her old nightgown to bed. Searching for comfort...but time helped me release it. There is still grief, but this is for her. For what she lost. For the grandchildren she'll never know. For the relationship we never got to have as adults. Because, damn, I'd love to have a glass of wine with her on the back porch. This new grief I carry in my pocket. Small. Tender. Almost a treasure that a child hands to you to hold.

My babies have given me many treasures over the years. Laughter. Strength. Tears. The knowledge of how my mother felt when she looked at us. They are always moving forward, so I do as well. Holding her story as mine unfolds.

Nothing is a given...except maybe a mother's love.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mamas out there. And to all the aunts and grandmothers and mothers in law stepping in when they are needed. To the daddies doing their best to fill a hole. To the teachers who are a safe place for many a child. Happy Mother's Day to all who love and give, expecting nothing in return. This day is for all of you. xo

Bluebird

The kids didn't see me as I walked across the field to the playground where they gather after school. I could see Henry, dump his backpack on the ground and start to run off. Then he stopped and shouted at a table of classmates, "Hey guys! Look! Look! A bluebird! Look at that color! Hey guys! Guys!" The other kids didn't look or even respond.

As I got closer and Henry could see me, I said, "I saw that bluebird. It must have nest nearby (We'd seen 2 the day before). How cool!"

He ran off and I sat down to watch the kids play.

Henry gathered up the latest book he was reading and sat down at the table with the other kids. They were just being kids. Middle schoolers. Laughing and pushing and teasing. Then they turned their attention to him...mocked him. Teased him. Ran him off.

I saw him. He was just a kid who wanted to read and sit with some friends. They saw something different. Someone different. And that to middle schoolers is a weakness.

I found Henry where he'd run off to and was reading. I told him that we should go home.

I know that kids will be kids. I know that middle school is hard. Especially when you aren't like everyone else. I didn't realize that it would be just as hard to watch this as it was to live it.

We went home and talked and I let Henry know that, like he saw that bluebird, that flash of color so bright, I see him. I see his brightness and his wings.

It's too bad that those other kids don't. If only they'd look up for a minute, they'd see something special... before it flies away.

We're All Growing UP

On their last birthdays, my children turned 9 and 6. I've learned a lot along the way. Children have a great way of showing the adults in their lives, both their strengths and weaknesses. A big thing I've learned over the past 9 years, is that these people came to me as themselves. Completely. Nothing that I do or don't do can alter the path that they are on. My job as mom, is to help them be the best versions of themselves...teach them manners and belief in themselves and others. I think of it as clearing the path so that they can go forward as their true selves. 

I want Henry to always keep his innocent love and enthusiastic spirit. 

I want Harper's life to always be filled with imagination and music. 

Other things that I have learned as mom:

Kids will rarely like the same foods. There is rarely logic to their choices. I just keep offering up healthy choices and hoping they will surprise me. Chef Dad didn't touch a salad until age 20. There's hope.

I am not as patient as I wish. But I have learned to apologize for it. Every morning is a new morning. And even if I threaten that we will be late to school, these kids don't believe me. We've never been late.  

They will get their shoes on. They will find their library book. We will get to school on time. Chill. 

This is my family. These are our values. There have been times as a mom that I have had to stand up for what I hold to be true for my family. It's not always easy, but it is always satisfying. I like showing the kids that we stand together and that it's ok to go against the majority if you need to. Not everyone believes the same thing. It's ok.  It's what makes life interesting. 

Only buy white socks. 

Never read or sing or do anything to your children that you do not want to read or sing or do a thousand more times. I once sang Piano Man to Harper as lullaby. 8 months later, we are still singing it. Every night.  I guess "it's better than drinking alone."

Children are funny. I mean hilarious. Watch them. Listen to them. Laugh with them. This is a hard job. Finding the humor makes it worth it. 

What was right there the whole time

The other day, leaving the kids' school, I looked up and saw the paint peeling of the walls and some random water stains on the ceiling. The thing is, I'd never noticed these before, even though i go down that staircase every school day after dropping off my son. It stuck me as wonderful. Wonderful because I don't notice the faults in the school. The missing tiles, peeling paint, the stains and leaks, the faults. I don't notice these things, because what I do see when I'm there is the LIFE. The kids and teachers. The happy faces and hugging arms. All the high fives as I go down the hall. The laughter and running feet. I see my friends and their kids. I see my son's old teachers and his classmates from last year. I love their school. I love that we chose public. It gives me such a sense of community.

Everyday we make choices about how we perceive our world. I see the love and the life in that school and that is a great lesson to me to see the love and laughter in my family too. The little things add up. Sure my husband left his toothbrush out on the counter that I just cleaned...but he brought home dinner and told me that I looked nice when I was going out. This morning Harper dumped all of her clothes on the floor, but she came down dressed and ready for school. I can choose to see the good or the bad in the world around me, in those I love.

It's not always that easy...somedays I'm ready for 5:00 to come and a glass of wine. Or to finish snuggling and turn off the kids' lights. Somedays I just want quiet and to be untouched for a moment.

Then, in the quiet reflection, I can look back at the moment that Henry blew into the beautiful foam leaf on a stranger's awaiting latte... and laugh.