Monday, March 15, 2010
My good friend whom i talk to everyday (ok, almost everyday!) who runs Operation Nice really struck a chord with me with her latest assignment. I find myself wondering this daily too, so i decided to follow suit with a "Nice" Living Eulogy. to my motherAs a testament to mothers who believe family was everything, was my mother.
My mother grew up in a not so wonderful home, with a (probably) mother who had an undiagnosed depression/personality disorder, and a doting, but alcoholic father. She selflessly gave in when her mother wanted her to go to beautician school so she could style my grandmother's hair for free. She never went to college, and she wanted more than anything to be a mom.
After some hardships early on in her marriage and in life in general, here she is, years later with 2 adult daughters who definitely have their own faults, but who love her more than their personalities let them reveal.
My mother was a young mother, who reveled in summertime with us. Even thinking back on it now, I remember with distant accuracy the freezer, with freezer pops a PLENTY, my dad's old black radio on top of the fridge with paint flecks all over it because they used to paint houses for extra money blaring 80's music, and our baby pool, filled up with spoons, pots and pans for playing.
I had the BEST childhood. While I didn't have the "right" toys, or shoes, or even hairstyles for that matter all the time, I knew I had what counted. I had a mom who was fiercely loyal and protective.
I remember feeling SO loved. Never afraid. Never alone. Never unwanted. Never unloved. That is SO important to a child.
I remember being listened to, even if she thought I was being ridiculous. Like the time in preschool when I was a scary witch and all the kids ran screaming from me. I was 6, I didn't know they were running from the costume, and felt so hurt. I remember tears welling up in my eyes looking at my orange cupcake, and the icing blurring through my waterworks. The next year, I was a princess. No blurry cupcakes.
I can only remember 2 things that my mother ever said to me that hurt my feelings when I was living under their roof. How many children can say that?
I can only remember a few spankings that I thought were undeserved. Trust me, most were deserved.
Even in the bad times, my sister and I didn't know things were bad. We didn't know that the foundation had cracked a bit, and was in repair. We were oblivious. Happily, oblivious, the way children should be. Constantly hugged, kissed and reassured.
I can only hope that I am that rock for my daughter. I constantly hug, kiss her and tell her I love her. Hoping that when she cradles her own daughter in her arms she thinks, "how will I ever top my own childhood..." like I wondered the day I held my daughter.