***I wish you were here to enjoy the beauty of a 70 degree day in the midst of snowstorms... to watch Eli playing in mounds of snow in short sleeves. He is endlessly fascinating, and I wish you were here to share in rapt observation of his rapidly growing discovery of the world. One of the hardest things over the past year and a half (it still feels like I’m counting minutes) has been that no one else on the face of this planet could love my children as much as I can, except you. Except you are gone and I don’t have anyone who is interested in the inanity of my day and the complexities of being a mother of two children under two years old (just left that club thank god)... I miss bouncing ideas off of you, and I miss having someone else truly enjoy caring for my children.***
When I was a kid, I had a like 8 - 10 extra parental units... I’m not sure if it was because of my mother’s brush with death (did she consciously want me to have other adults who cared for me just in case she were to die?) or if it was because my parents were so young... they didn’t have friends with kids, so I didn’t have friends my age. My best friend when I was 4 was in his 20’s... for some reason he was fascinated by my ability to converse. He would sit and talk with me for hours during parties and he would watch out for me. A kid at a college party needs as many people looking after her as she can get! ;) When I was a teen, my mother actively encouraged other women to mother me... she had a deal with several women that, as long as it wasn’t dangerous, they were to keep our conversations to themselves - that I needed an adult outside of my actual parents to get information from. This, I’m positive, was foreshadowing... it’s as though she knew that I would need someone else at some point. As though she knew she wouldn’t live long enough. We’re all still trying to recover from her loss, and I’m trying to understand it when certain women whom I’ve come to lean on simply aren’t there... it really isn’t their job. No woman (anymore) can say that she built me, cell by cell, in her body from love and DNA. No woman is genetically predisposed to remember the day of my birth or to remember that I need her... I’m learning to live with this. It makes me feel awfully lonely and awfully adult. I’m not entirely sure that I’m ready for that level of adulthood... I still need someone to blame it on sometimes, and someone to celebrate my accomplishments.
***Today, I will KNOW that I am a good mother... no matter if my children are well or horribly behaved. I will be in the moment with them (as soon as they wake from napping) and I will enjoy every moment. I will remember to breath when frustrated and to laugh when delighted. If I need to lay blame then I will lay it on the universe, because adults need to be excused sometimes... and the universe can take it.***
Heather - I was so taken with two of your recent writings on FB that I came to this site to read more. What a lovely gift of self-expression and discovery; what a present and caring mother and wife; what an amazing woman you have grown into. I have news for you, though. None of us really enjoy being "adult" all the time. I sometimes still long to curl up in my grandfather's lap while he rocked all my worries away in his big wooden rocking chair.
ReplyDeleteMothers are very special people -- and daughters are very special people. I can't imagine my life without Cathy, who still allows me to refer to her from time to time as "my baby girl" though she, like you, has grown into the most amazing, bright, caring, curious, strong, funny woman,friend and confidante.
Keep writing, Heather. It's lovely and will be a beautiful legacy for Eli and River, who will too quickly, also be adults. Time is fleeting. Enjoy every minute. Vivian