I am a lot of things. I am a wife, a paralegal, a daughter, a sister, a writer, an aunt, a cook, an accountant, and a planner along with a myriad of additional titles I would bestow upon myself and others might bestow upon me, the first of which that comes to mind is bitch. However, the one thing I am foremost and the title I at least think of first when asked “who are you?” is mother. I am not a perfect mother though I like to think I am at least a good mother. My main goal as a mother is to get my kids raised and out of the house without them getting into drugs, abusing alcohol, getting or getting someone pregnant, getting into jail or doomed to a life of straight-jackets or weekly therapy sessions. Of course, I’d love for them to become happy, successful, well adjusted adults who live comfortably financially and provide me with grandchildren I can use to torture them but that is the ideal. In the world today, I’m just shooting for the minimum and striving to get them and me out of childhood alive with at least a functional amount of sanity.
As most people do, I struggled with the question of, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” For a long time, this question of what I want to be caused me anxiety and frustration. I think the reason was because in order to figure out what I wanted to be I needed to first know who I already was. Somehow the moment my daughter was born, it no longer mattered who I was or what I would become. Once I got over the initial shock and utter relief this thing I didn’t care if was a dog let alone a girl was out of me, I was a mother to a beautiful baby girl and nothing else mattered that much anymore. I knew throughout the rest of my life I could become and cease to be many things but my life would have purpose and meaning because I was a mother. I will always be a mother even when I no longer have anyone to mother. What I always wanted most deep down above all other things was to be a mother. It is like the rest of it is just icing on the cake. This is not to say that the other titles I’ve held or hope to hold are not important. I still have so much to do before I can say my life was as purposeful and complete as I want but with the major hurdle out of the way, the rest is not so critical. The analogy of a scale comes to mind. One the one side is “mother” and balancing the scales requires a whole lot of other roles placed into the opposite plate. It is like a brick vs. feathers where mother is the brick.
Thinking about being a mother naturally leads to ponder having a mother. Being a daughter and having a daughter is a unique situation. Watching my daughter grow up allows me to understand my mother more and answers so many questions. For example, I now fully understand why she went through cases of first boxed wine then Milwaukee’s Best Light. As a daughter, I don’t think you are capable of fully realizing or appreciating what you get from your mother until you have a child of your own, especially a daughter. Probably the best revenge a mother can have against her daughter is a granddaughter. You get to sit back and just laugh it up when your granddaughter tries to sneak wearing make-up to school, incessantly rolls her eyes at your daughter and slams her bedroom door so hard paint flakes off the ceiling. I hope that my daughter does not deprive me of this greatest of the simple pleasures in life.
When the mother in me was gestating, I did not fully understand but I suspected there was a geometrical connection between mothers and daughters across the generations. As a gift for my mother at the baby shower for my daughter, I wrote and framed the following poem. I am now re-gifting it to anyone who has ever been or has ever had a mother. I hope you enjoy it. HAPPY MOTHERS’ DAY!!!
THE CIRCLE
The Line:
Grandma to you.
You to me.
Me to my child.
Love and respect
For the woman
Known best
Through all of
The differences
And alikes
As people
And as parents.
Laughter, love and lessons:
Be your own person.
Stand up for what
You believe.
Hurts to each other
That cannot be avoided
But are eventually healed.
A woman, after time,
Whose strengths
Are admired
And whose weaknesses
Are understood.
The Chain:
Your grandma to you.
Your mother to me.
You to my child.
Spoils that shouldn’t
Be spoiled.
Harshness that shouldn’t
Be babied.
An idealized love between
That is never tainted
By imperfection.
Eyes to smile
And voices to laugh.
Arms to hold the crying child
That has just been denied
One more cookie
Or one more toy.
A woman to fight
Childhood battles
Whether right or wrong
With the girl she raised from birth.
Always remembered and
Cherished as the woman
Who made life possible.
The Circle:
Grandma to my child.
You to my grandchild.
Remembered for,
Known for
And watching with the wisdom
Of having experienced
Each curve
In this circle of life.
