Happy Mother's Day to All the Good Mothers In the World
You know I used to think I was a “good” mother because I was different than my own mother. She was a hugger …an “I’ll do it for you” kind of a mother, and I was a “don’t touch me, I’ll do it myself” kind of daughter. I interpreted her actions as “smother love” and “you can’t do it right.” ….so when I became a mother, I decided I would be a polar opposite of my mother. I was determined to let my little family do it on their own, learn the hard way, and “heaven forbid” I give them (particularly the girls) any “hugs.”
In retrospect, I see that although I encouraged (they say I screamed) them to do things on their own, I was still directing their every action from my “distant don’t hug me” place in life, and it makes me question what it means to be a “good” mother. It must be an age-old question that mothers ask because I remember Mama when she was in her nineties pondering what it meant to be a “beloved” mother/grandmother.
Well, Mama, you were a beloved “Mother.” I miss you. I miss hearing your laugh. I miss teasing you about “worrying” so much. Gosh, I even miss dusting the woodwork - well maybe not that so much, but it is one of my special memories of you. I miss all the hours we sat at the table and you helped me with my homework. I miss meeting you at Bob’s Grill and eating noodles on Thursday. I miss taking roast beef sandwiches with lots of onions, slaw, and custard pie to the nursing home those last days of your life. …but most of all I miss your touch because now I understand that you weren’t trying to “smother” me you were just being a “good” mother in the only way you knew.
…and now that I am older, I hope my children -- all of you -- think of me as a “good” mother, not because I have done everything right or even anything right, not because I was a different than my own mother, but because no matter what the circumstances I have always loved you since the first moment I laid eyes on you.
And maybe, Mama, there isn’t any one particular defining moment that makes us “good” mothers; maybe it isn’t about being “good” at all. After all is said and done, we both loved and love our children in our own different ways and there just isn’t any “wrong” way to love.
© 2008 Ilene Madrigal
In retrospect, I see that although I encouraged (they say I screamed) them to do things on their own, I was still directing their every action from my “distant don’t hug me” place in life, and it makes me question what it means to be a “good” mother. It must be an age-old question that mothers ask because I remember Mama when she was in her nineties pondering what it meant to be a “beloved” mother/grandmother.
Well, Mama, you were a beloved “Mother.” I miss you. I miss hearing your laugh. I miss teasing you about “worrying” so much. Gosh, I even miss dusting the woodwork - well maybe not that so much, but it is one of my special memories of you. I miss all the hours we sat at the table and you helped me with my homework. I miss meeting you at Bob’s Grill and eating noodles on Thursday. I miss taking roast beef sandwiches with lots of onions, slaw, and custard pie to the nursing home those last days of your life. …but most of all I miss your touch because now I understand that you weren’t trying to “smother” me you were just being a “good” mother in the only way you knew.
…and now that I am older, I hope my children -- all of you -- think of me as a “good” mother, not because I have done everything right or even anything right, not because I was a different than my own mother, but because no matter what the circumstances I have always loved you since the first moment I laid eyes on you.
And maybe, Mama, there isn’t any one particular defining moment that makes us “good” mothers; maybe it isn’t about being “good” at all. After all is said and done, we both loved and love our children in our own different ways and there just isn’t any “wrong” way to love.
© 2008 Ilene Madrigal
posted by Ilene @ 3:49 PM
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