Mothering Heights
An attitude of gratitude has been fairly easy for me these past couple of months. In fact, I can cry tears of thankfulness faster than Barbara Walters asks, “How does that make you feel?” Over the past year, a girlfriend’s young daughter has been treated for a rare form of cancer, a girlfriend lost her house to a crumbling economy, and a colleague lost his wife and must raise his two young girls alone. Tears are already flooding my keyboard.
Every day my family is healthy is a blessing, as is our life in Laguna Beach with the fresh ocean air, a house that keeps us warm, and good friends who care. As my husband’s Uncle Marvin, a child survivor of the Holocaust, says, “It’s a blessing.” There is only one person in my life that I cannot stop harassing: myself. Not a day goes by where I don’t criticize myself for my mothering skills. Why didn’t I go over that math before the test? Do a craft project with my kids this weekend? Be more patient when my little one was sharing her tetherball tale? Frankly, though, the task list of a mom these days is so overwhelming. Between the lice check, swine flu sanitizing, new math curriculum, and constant flow of paper that comes home from school, who has time to stop being an event coordinator and actually be a good parent?
Two weeks ago, we decided to take a break from it all and travel to Florida to visit family. Afternoons spent playing games, telling stories and exploring new cities together would make up for those missed family moments. Oh yeah, write that fantasy and watch it crumble. Here’s how it went: Our hotel didn’t have a room for us despite the reservation. We ended up in the Ritz Carlton across the street, granted it was free but our room was the size of my bathtub. The first day went okay despite my complete lack of sleep from my seven year old sleeping on top of me, sniffling and snorting all night long.
Day Two of my family rejuvenation plan started with a nice swim. Then BAM! I missed a step and face planted myself into the pool deck like Wile E. Coyote in the Looney Tunes. Not only did I scrape my leg, twist my knee, but also ripped my favorite gold sandals into two pieces! Ouch. The next day while shoving clothes into luggage for checkout, I couldn’t find the mate to my only other pair of shoes. So there I was limping around the Ritz Carlton with one shoe on, an oozing sore and a bum knee. Now that’s a picture of grace. I stood up straight, smiled at the gawkers and hobbled my way to the car. One thing I know for sure: My kids learned that mommy is not perfect nor does she try to be.
And now I cry again as I speak to my girlfriend whose mother passed away last week. In their final moments together, my friend looked into her mother’s eyes and said, “You were the best mom--the best.”
“Well, I could have been better,” her mom insisted.
“No, Mom you were the best.”
Perhaps it is the very definition of “mother” to be constantly worried that we are not doing enough for our children. The love we have is so great and at times overwhelming that we always want to do better.
So what? I am a clutzy, impatient, messy, no craft, and, at times, completely socially inappropriate mom. I do know how to laugh with one shoe on and two kids in tow. For these times together and many others, I am truly thankful. With a bit of luck,
feeling of grace will wash over me this holiday like a ladle of brown gravy on warm chestnut stuffing. No salt water allowed.
Wishing you and yours a healthy and safe Thanksgiving filled with the blessings of love and acceptance. To submit questions or comments, email me at cfugate@verizon.net.
