Mother's Day

I have been thinking about mothers a lot lately.  My mother, being a mother myself, my grandmothers.

Where do we first learn about mothers?  Well, if we have one that is alive and kicking, for most of us, it's our own mother.  My mom talked all the time about my grandma.  I was lucky enough to get to know my grandma some and even live with her for a bit.  She was very soft-spoken.  She was very kind.  She was a good lady, through and through.  She worked hard, was dedicated to her family and to Jesus Christ.  By all counts, she was the perfect mother to her four boys and adoring daughter.

Unfortunately, late in life, she suffered from Alzheimers.  She often did not know where she was or who was with her.  She always recognized my mom (at least initially) but would sometimes become confused later.  Consequently, most of what I know about her, I heard from my mom.  A small part of me doesn't look with perfect kindness on my grandmother.  Why?  For a completely irrational reason.  My mom would always compare herself with my grandmother and come up lacking in her own estimation.  That bothered me.

Maybe to understand why, you'd need to know more about my mom.  She was (and is) full of energy and life, always bursting to do the next thing.  She's a whirlwind of activity.  She tears into a room and attacks whatever needs to be done.  School projects, cleaning, cooking, sewing, intellectual discussion, you name it.  She reads up on the world, watches the news and educates herself.  She tells hilarious jokes with numerous accents.  She is genuinely kind.  I don't know anyone in the world who thinks as highly of as many people as my mom, despite their many and obvious flaws.  I think it's a thing of beauty to see the shine of Jesus Christ in those around you so very freely.

She played with us as kids.  She played with us as adolescents.  She plays with us as adults, and now she plays with our kids.  She runs with the toddlers at the park.  She plays games with the tiny kiddos like Eli (he's 4).  She gets on the ground and crawls with the baby.  She makes animal noises and talks to them, burbles, giggles. She takes her big kids shopping for stuff they don't need and sometimes things they really really do.

She took us to museums, she taught us all day long.  We watched almost no tv.  She cooked breakfast every morning, made our lunches, made our dinner.  She drove us long hours to all kinds of things, shepherded us to debate tournaments, and practices for sports, theater, and so on.  She stayed up all night with us when we were sick and took care of us when we stayed home from school.

She also works really hard.  She's always worked.  Everything around the house, pretty much every church calling available, and some stuff outside, too.  When my dad lost his job, she started a business.  She still works hard on that business today.  She uses it to bless the lives of others, often those who really need a second (or third) chance.

She's patient with people and children alike, reproving betimes with sharpness when the kids or adults need that swift kick.  That's where she usually gets down on herself.  I gather her mom didn't do that much.  I have a sister in law who doesn't either.  I really respect their sweet spirits but it doesn't lessen the beauty of my mom's spirit that she got pointier teeth.  Sometimes when your kids are stinkers, they need that little zing.  We were stinkers.  We might have done Grandma in.

I could go on and on about my mom.  It wouldn't even be hard.  She's been such a wonderful example to me of patience, faith, self sacrifice, service, talent, and kindness.  My mom is so close to perfect that it's really hard for me to hear her lament her shortcomings (self proclaimed) when she compares herself to her own angel mother.  It makes me mad at her mom.  For making my mom feel bad.

I remember not too long ago I was at my wits end with my kids.  I said to my mom, 'When does this end??  When do the kids finally get their act together, stop complaining and asking for you to do everything and just do most things on their own??'  I was expecting her to say, don't worry.  By 12 they are pretty self sufficient.'  Or the famous, 'you'll miss them when they leave for college.'

To my surprise, she just started laughing.  I stopped and thought.  At the ripe old age of 30, here I was, her daughter, still calling her and complaining.  I was still having her fly out and help me with the kids.  I eventually MOVED to HOUSTON so she could come help me every day!!!  Aw crap, I realized.  It never ends.  Ever.  If you're a good mom, right about the time you get them all ousted so you are finally free, grandkids start pouring in.  And your kids need your help more than ever.

Of course, since becoming a mother myself I've come to see everything in an entirely new light.  I am even a further step removed from her mom's calm demeanor, snapping at my kids with a frequency that shames me.  I don't always make sure my kids have home cooked meals.  I let them watch too much TV.  My daughters don't always have cute hair, my kids don't always have clean faces.  I pawn my kids off on a babysitter far too often.

I haven't been excited about mother's day this year.  Why?  I think it's because I haven't been a good mother lately.  I would have classified myself as a reasonably good mother before I got pregnant with good old number four.  Your body is supposed to manage the creation of offspring easily, naturally.  This kid is like having the bubonic plague.  It's trying to do me in.  I'd like to say that despite that I have mustered on, caring for my other children, placing their needs ahead of my suffering.  That would be a lie.  I have basically dropped to basic life support measures.  No cleaning.  No games.  Food tossed on the table or high chair so the kids can fend for themselves.

My poor husband has done everything else.  When he's been gone at work or sleeping off a night shift, my mom has come to the rescue.  They've done the parenting.  The feeding, the cleaning, the laundry.  All the things the mother usually does.  The nose wiping, the rides to and from gymnastics lessons.  When you put it that way, it seems like a lot of mundane tasks strewn together.

I think that's the beauty of what being a mother is, though.  It's in the garbage that you find the treasures.  It's coming in from the car your three year old describes the bright sunlight as "Wow it sure is shiny out here."  It's in the negotiating your son does to get his way.  It's in the way you teach your kids the importance of patience.  You don't teach that in the abstract.  You do it when the oil change that was supposed to take 15 minutes takes 45 and your kids are swinging off the spare tires stacked in the office of the place.  I'm missing the mundane and it smarts.

Because if I have any prayer of being a mother like mine, I have to be pretty "shiny" myself during the mundane.  I have a lot of work to do.  I guess like everything else, being a mother is like a work in progress.  You never know what life will hit you with next.  Illness.  Hurricane.  I could go on but I get superstitious.  :-)

The point is, I think, this mother's day I learned the following.

1. My mom's almost perfect.
2. My grandma was wonderful too.
3. I'm kind of a miserable failure so far, but I have time to redeem myself and some good models to follow.

Cross your fingers that this time next year I'll have something good to report.

-Bridget