I struggled with what to write about my mother for Mother’s Day. There’s so many memories I treasure, and so many that make me cringe when I recall them. I guess it’s important to note that my mother was a young mother. My older sister was born when my mother was only eighteen, and I followed when she was twenty-one. This is significant because I don’t think a lot of women have the maturity my mother did at that age. She was missing out on being a young adult, having a carefree existence, to stay home and raise two daughters.
My Mom's Graduation Picture
And she gave us a great home life. With the help of my father, my sister and I were nurtured and encouraged as children. I was twenty-nine when my girls were born, and don’t think I had half of the insight and patience my mother had.
If you know my mother, it’s easy to see I’ve inherited many things from her. We are both blessed/cursed with the gift of gab. We can talk effortlessly to anyone in any situation. We are often the ones who people find they can tell anything too. Often times we sit and compare the awkward times in which total strangers confided in us. This happens a lot. To both of us. We are both social creatures. While my dad, and to some extent my sister also, build networks of very close friends to surround them and venture rarely outside of that group, my mother and I always have many friends, both close and far. We cannot stand staying home for long periods of time, and love to be surrounded by people.
We are both avid soap opera watchers. I grew up with Guiding Light, The Young and The Restless, and As the World Turns as the background noise of my childhood. My mother and I know the back-stories and family tress of these shows better than we know our own. Some of my favorite memories involve watching soaps with my mom.
Dad, Mom, and Jennie, 1974
At one point I remember purchasing dart guns, and using them whenever Roger Thorpe was on the screen. Soap Opera watching is a tradition I still pass on to my girls. (Side note: Yes, I am aware this tradition embedded in me a strong tendency towards the melodramatic, and that I may in turn be screwing up my kids as well..but hey, maybe they’ll be writers!)
My mother is also non-traditional in many ways. She doesn’t like to cook, was never one for the lovey-dovey crap, and I don’t think she has ever knitted or made anything from hand in her lifetime. She doesn’t pressure my sister and I to visit her, and pretty much takes care of herself in all situations. We always joke that she is a very low-maintenance mother, a quality I am beginning to appreciate more and more as my own life blooms and stretches thin the threads of my free time.
But on this mother’s day, if I really want to reflect on what I admire most about my mother, it would be hands down, her strength. She is the strongest person I know, period. As teenagers we often mistook this quality for apathy or indifference, but as I became a mother and am watching my own girls grow, I realize it is a blessing. My mother gave us the greatest gift a mother can give her daughters, the ability to stand on your own and to live without depending on anyone. My mother did not teach us this lesson by necessity, my father was a wonderful father and husband, and supported all of us very well, rather this lesson was born out of my mother’s own desire to make us into independent women who would have choices in life and would be able to hold firm in the face of adversity.
She taught us this be example. I have watched my mother stand up for her beliefs, even if they aren’t popular. I have watched her stand in the face of fear and not buckle. I have lived her making tough decisions and never wavering from them.
The girls: Penelope, My Gram, My Mom, and Samantha
As teenagers, my mother never gave us an inch. She despised parents who took the easy road and let their kids do whatever they pleased. That would not be us. And it wasn’t easy. With two teenage daughters, there were fights, and I’m sure at times she felt like Sisyphus pushing that boulder up the hill, but she kept pushing until we all got to the top. She never stopped. My sister and I were watched over and truly parented until we were old enough to stand alone. And while we hated her more than anyone else on the planet sometimes, we always knew she had our best interest at heart.
My mother’s strength is the greatest gift she ever bestowed upon me. It gave me the guts to write such a personal memoir and to not flinch while reading parts of it out loud, even though I should be gravely embarrassed, I’m sure. It gave me the courage I needed to go through a divorce, to change my life, and to want more for myself than I had. And when I look at my girls, so young and full of possibilities, I know I can teach them many things: how to write, read, play the guitar, throw a ball, dance, cook, drive… the greatest thing I can teach them is to be strong and brave in the face of this world. And it is because of my mother that I can do that by example.
I love you, Mom.
