Mother's Day

The dreaded Mother's Day has come and gone. I am a person who likes to have a reasonable level of control over events, activities and especially my emotions, so I had been mentally preparing myself for the Mother's Day Pictorial that would appear on social media, and the constant well wishes of pretty much everyone in the whole world.

I know that because I am a mom, people will cheerfully say "Happy Mother's Day!" in recognition of me. (I do appreciate that, even though I'm pretty convinced I'm doing the parenting thing completely wrong most of the time.) I know that most people don't know that this is my first one without my mom, and I know that unless you are motherless yourself, it doesn't even really occur to you that Mother's Day is a little bit painful. The reason I know that, is because until now I didn't think about it either. I'm sure I wished a whole lot of Happy Mother's Days and probably Happy Father's Days too without a thought in the world.

 And anyway, I really didn't think that the Mother's Day milestone was going to be too much of a big deal for me, because giving a day a name doesn't make it any less or more important than all the other days. I wasn't even worried about it - I've been missing mom for 288 days now, and doing pretty well if I do say so myself. I expected to spend the weekend on the boat and getting the beach ready for a summer full of relaxation.

My family has never been overly demonstrative with special days. We don't celebrate specific days because we celebrate every ordinary day instead. Calling my mom on Mother's Day wouldn't have distinguished it from any other day because I called my mom every day. Sometimes twice a day. Sometimes more. I enjoyed a closeness with her that is rare and unusual, and something I am so grateful for, especially now. So I said a few words to Mom in the morning when I woke up like I always do and then went about my day.

I was doing great until early afternoon when I decided to get my planter boxes ready to go. Dad had been over a few days earlier and we had planted my patio pots, but the long boxes were still in need of flowers. I like to get flats of petunias from the Soccer Flower Sale, and I had two flats to take care of. I got everything set out on the driveway, ready to go, and as I started popping flowers out of the plastic containers, I was unexpectedly overwhelmed with rush of emotion. It hadn't occurred to me until that exact moment, but last summer my mom sat with me on my driveway and helped me plant the same flowers in the same boxes. She got tired about halfway through and dad had to take her home. I remember feeling slightly annoyed because these sleepy spells seemed to be getting more and more frequent. But I helped Dad get her into the car, and simply hoped the next doctor appointment would provide some answers.

How does your mom help you plant a flower in May and be gone in July? How does that happen? I thought I had already navigated through the anger phase of grief, but I guess those timelines aren't exactly set in stone, because it came bubbling up right then, along with a healthy helping of denial and despair. My poor husband never saw it coming. How could he? I didn't see it coming myself. I stood up to get a spade and a loud choking sob escaped from my throat and suddenly huge tears came sliding out from under my sunglasses. I had to stop what I was doing, go for a little walk and then call my dad to help get me back under control. Aaron was filling boxes with black dirt when he saw me have my little breakdown. He just paused, and went to find the kids. He took them on a walk to the Dairy Freeze so I could have some personal space and some time to myself.

It's those ordinary things, really. Small, inconsequential reminders of the absence that will get you every time.

I miss my mom. I miss her so much, and wish the world knew all the things I know about my mom. She would never have wanted the work of her life to be put on display (which is why she specifically requested private services.) She hated attention; she preferred to skirt the edges of the light and do all her good work behind the scenes. She took credit for nothing and was deserving of so many things that she never got to have. I am who I am because of her. And the example she set for me is the bar that I will continue to hold for myself in all things: family, work, and life.

I told my mother every day that I loved her, so I don't worry about her knowing that. I do wish I had told her how proud she made me, though. I wish I had been there on the day that she walked herself, a middle-aged female, onto the MSU campus and registered as a Computer Programming major. It must have taken a truckload of courage to do that, and I don't think I ever told her that.

I think about that a lot; my mama was a strong woman. She had a way of clearing any obstacle put in front of her. She was a master of finding the way in, the way around, the way through anywhere she wanted to go, to get anything she wanted to get, and she never did it at the expense of anyone else.

And if the world told her no, told her definitively and assuredly no, then she learned how to accept that too. She knew how to be happy with what you have, to appreciate what you've been given, and to continue to dwell in the pleasure of the moment without opening the door to the worry of tomorrow.

My mom did lots of hard things. She did them because they needed to be done. And when I'm afraid of something, or worried, or hesitant, I think about my mom, and how she never shied away from the hard things.

I wish I had told her that I know how to draw from my well of courage only because she showed me how to do it. I wish a lot of things, I guess. I wish she could see the lasting impression she made on my kids. I wish she could have been here for more of their milestones.

I wish she were here to help me plant my damn flowers.

Shoot, there's that anger thing again. Sorry, I'm still a work in progress.

Love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.

Half Way to Hemingway

This weekend, Aaron took the kids with him when he ran errands. Everyone got to pick out a treat at the store. Emma and Carys bought candy...Cooper bought a composition notebook and a pack of pens. When I asked him why he wanted school supplies in May, he answered, "Mom, I need a place to write down all my stories."

Be still, my heart.

He wrote his first story this weekend. Along the way we had very serious conversations about writing - the process, the subject matter, editing, revising, the works:

"Mom, I want my book to be a collection of animal adventure stories - what's a good name for a squirrel?"
"How about Gerald?"
"I was thinking Robert."

After composing two sentences, cross-legged on the floor of the laundry room while I folded laundry, he furrowed his brow and said, "Mom, do you ever get stuck when you're writing your blog? Like you can't think of what comes next?" I said, "All the time! It's called writer's block." He sighed deeply and said, "Well, that's what I've got right now."

He brought a draft to me and asked me to look for mistakes. He seemed very bothered by the spelling errors, until I reminded him that every writer made mistakes and editing was part of the process. The mom in me was delighted at the innocent creativity of his first adventure story. The English teacher in me was thrilled to find that he had correctly punctuated his dialogue.

He put the finishing touches on the piece on Sunday. I told him I would make sure his very first story got published...so here it is. The photos are for authenticity and to showcase his beautiful penmanship that would put some of my juniors on notice; the transcript is so he can have the pleasure of seeing his creation come to life in glorious Times New Roman.

Robert and the Hundred Nuts!

One day a squirrel named Robert was on a mission to find 100 nuts in one day. If he does not, the squirrel tribe will not have enough food for the winter. So at 5:00am he started to look.

He took with him: one bag and a long pole to get the hard to reach ones. Almost instantly he found 10 in his back yard then found 5 in a tree. "I'm off to a great start!" said Robert. Robert climbed a giant tree and used the long pole to knock 25 down. "I am doing awsome," said Robert as 6 more fell down.

He found 6 in the sand and 4 in the dirt. "That's 10 more," said Robert "44 to go!" He looked at his watch. "Oh no it is 1:00pm!" he said.

Robert ran and found 3 stuck in a tree. Then got 10 from shaking a tree. Robert found 20 in the woods. He got 5 floating in a river. Then got 5 from a hole in a tree. He looked down his watch read 10:00. NOOOO! he sat down by a tree and cryed. "I only needed 1 more!" he sobbed.

All the suddenly something hit his head. He looked. A nut! He ran back as fast as his legs could carry him. He made sure no nuts fell out of his bag..

When he got back, he showed them to the chief "You have done well," said the chief. "Thank you." Robert said.

1 Year Later

"We are not going to have enough food!" said the chief of the squirrel tribe. "Robert, can you find 100 nuts today?"