Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What’s that suppose to mean? In my heart it don’t mean a thing. -Toni Morrison
Today I am fortunate enough to celebrate my 24th Mother’s Day. Not so sure where the years have gone to, but here we are. For many years it was just the four of us. Together we weathered a number of storms that honestly, I probably would have thrown in the towel if it wasn’t for the three of them. Numerous weekends oversleeping, and running around the house so I could make the mad dash from P-town to Bluehill to drop them off at the babysitters, with prayers that I could make it back into P-town and not punch into work late. No vehicle, frozen pipes, no running water, no heat, blowing a circuit and having no fuses, low on money, low on the believe of prayer. The bad stuff that happened could go on and on, but together the four of us made it.
Thru the years I had society and people in my life who made me feel like I was less of a mother because I punched into a time clock 40 hours/week. But I kept on going. Because I had to. I will never apologize for being unable to volunteer for the bake sales, or being unable to create bulletin boards for the classrooms. At one time I wanted to, until my daughter thanked me for showing her that a woman can work outside of the home and raise a family at the same time.
Work, and the furthering of my education interferred with my attending a lot of the kids school activities, but the boys especially can vouche that when they needed me I was there. Just too bad that my supervisor couldn’t understand that I was a mother when she warned me about receiving calls at work, because the phone calls from my children didn’t stop, and on a number of occassions I flew out the door with my scrub jacket blowing in the wind to get to my children.
I’ve come close to being arrested on more than one occassion because of them, and we won’t even discuss the time I came pretty dang close to having my block knocked off a couple of times defending them. Some of them absolutely hilarious stories: like the woman whose daughter was climbing out of her bedroom window at night to meet up with boys, and somehow my daughter was the blame. hahaha stupid woman! Here is where I can point out that her daughter is on baby #3, and baby daddy #2, and my girl is still not sneaking out bedroom windows, and still has no babies.
For the times I screamed too much, and too loudly, I do not apologize. Because seriously, it was much safer for me to yell at you than commit a murder. When I warned my daughter not to mix flour, salt, etc in her little tykes kitchen or I would give it away, well, she can never say that I didn’t warn her, and that woman was pretty damned excited to bring that kitchen set home to her daughter. And to my boys who each hold scars from one another, one on the forehead, and one on the back of the head, for the love of god, see what happens when I tell you not to throw rocks! For your lack of designer clothes, trips to Disneyland, and other exotic places that we dreamt of, I remind you that our bills were paid and we had much more fun eating popcorn and watching movies together in the livingroom.
Bored? I’m sorry, did someone say they were bored?! Hah! If you are bored find a book and plant it and read me a chapter for each time you said the word bored. Best punishment I ever created, because all three of them are precocious readers.
Like me, they are not perfect. They have made some decisions that I have not completely agreed with, and they have done some things I have not been impressed by, but they are my life, and my soul, and together we will weather the storm. They have made me who I am today. They have cheered me on, and pushed me to reach my goals. They have made my life complete…and 24 years after having my first child placed in my arms they still continue to take my breathe away, and I could not imagine taking this journey without each one of them beside me.
….Jenny