Mother's Day

Mother's day~ a day of different things for everyone, some being church and dinner and breakfast in bed.  Gifts of flowers or chocolates, a day off of chores, feet up, pampering, sticky kisses from little kids, phone calls from grown ones.  Sometimes it is a day of mourning, remembering or regret- things left unsaid, undone, things that should of happened long ago and didn't.  My mother's day is a mixture- it is early still, but I am anticipating breakfast when the manz begins to stir (I slept through dinner last night again.  I am sleeping so much that he calls me 'sleeping beauty'- and while dreams are amazing, life is as well and I don't want to miss it)... and a phone call from boy (he had called the other day to ask if I wanted to come into the city today- answer is yes and no- I miss him, but I want to be home today. City on Wednesday when I see Dr. Mike perhaps)...I will call my Mother...I love her and will see her soon, end of June, but wish that could be today.  We will call Charles Mother, who is wonderful and kind (I still don't know what to call her. 'Carrie' is to informal for me, Mrs. Owens is *me* and way to formal, Mother/ mama is for my mother, and I was never fond of the term 'mom' even though the kids at school call me that.  I need to think of something though, because she has been so good to me- and Grendel-), and I will remind Grendel (not because I have to- he knows- but because that is what a Mother does, remind-) to call his grandma in SC and Dorothy in Vancouver. I am wishing well all the wonderful mothers in our family- my sisters, Casey/Sam/Frannie who are raising the tangle of the next generation- I love seeing the kids, how they are growing and changing, how much fun it is every step of the way.  Soon enough we will be seeing Morgan in a prom dress (Prom Queen, no doubt) and the boys all turning into young men with cars and dreams and hopes of their own.  (Morgan has those things as well, of course, but she is destined to be the 'Queen', no doubt.)  And a wish to all my students who are mothers, and Melissa whose Gabe is leaving childhood for the rocky road of maturation.  I am also thinking of my grandmothers- who were different- I wish in particular that I had spent more time or attention with Granny Wrye (despite the dramatics) because she was *interesting*.  Mom mom was a different story altogether, but she is still an ancestor and worth respect for that. And there are others, of course, but this is a day for mothers- and I am blessed to be one.

My Mother is amazing, and was the greatest influence on me- shaped me the most of anyone.  Not just in the ways of civilized behavior and all the expected things that mothers do, but in unexpected ways that made me who I am, and I am grateful- even if I didn't seem so at the time (sorry about that!  It's what kids do- rebel- but still and all, sorry for all the stress and worry).  The greatest gifts she gave me are the ability to think, to observe, to create, to imagine and dream.  To be brave and carry on, no matter what.

Long ago and far away she taught me to read, and made sure always that we made it to the store-front library in Westwood.  Huge stacks of books- Madeline was a favorite- I can still remember how they smelled, how the cellophane wrapping on them crinkled. Trips to the laundry there as well- I could always find stray coins- because she always called me 'lucky' I know I am.  Girl scouts (I wasn't very good at it, but we went.  I made a rather horrid thing out of smelly soap, paper doilies and pins with beads on them one year for Mother's day) followed by a trip to the Dairy Queen- vanilla cone for her, I would get the slushy drink.  Walks all around Headacher, Morro Bay, Caycous, and the woods and fields everywhere in between- I learned the names of the birds, the flowers, what to eat and what not to, how to see the small things.  How to entertain myself with my imagination, working together to create a massive doll house (with furniture) out of a cardboard box- furniture that was 'modern' 60-70's out of spray caps, butter tubs and whatever we could find.  She taught me that reading encyclopedias could be fun (and my huge store of trivia is rooted there- sick days from school were spent in bed with encyclopedias and the vaporizer), how to read a map and plot a course, how to sew and embroider and fuse different colors/textures/patterns into a lovely whole.

My Mother was not afraid.  She drove cross country by herself (with Granny Wrye and child me- she should be sainted for completing those trips without abandoning one or the other or both of us along the way.  Neither of us were easy passengers). Handled emergencies well, was not afraid to go out on her own when she need to.  She let me explore so that I would grow up unafraid- at the beach, in the city, on our travels, at the museum.  I have never been afraid to go anywhere or do anything on my own- I know that all things can be handled.  And no, my mother is not perfect.  No one ever is- but there is value added through imperfections and we all turned out much better than expected- I hope my child turns out half so well.

So Thank-you Mother for everything- all the tears and the wisdom, the scoldings (mostly well deserved) and the lessons, the art and knowledge and adventure and beauty that was mine growing up.  I have a wonderful life, and I thank-you for it daily.