Here's my first pass at my story for Tuesday. Do you like it? I love you both lots and lots. Thank you for being the kind of loving parents that I love to write about. You've done so much for me. Love always...
Walking home through the soccer field at Grandview school after a long, hard day always got me excited. Being done with a day of school was reason enough to rejoice, but the other reason was because of what awaited me at home. I would burst in the front door, drop my book bag and head for the kitchen. Mom was there. That was the excitement. That was the draw. She was like a bartender standing behind the orange counter top. Not only was she typically wiping down that counter top, but she had a drink waiting and a listening ear. I loved it. I felt safe from the outside world. I felt certain of her love and protection.
Mom is constant, caring and capable. Every morning she makes a list, and every morning it begins with "straighten, wash and fold". Literally every day. The list wasn't simply a morning exercise that was quickly forgotten. She referred (refers, more like it) to the list all day long accomplishing, crossing off and moving forward. The washing and folding didn't always get done, but little, yet important things as well as lodestar events throughout my life have been accomplished by her loving attendance to her work as mother.
My whole life she has been such a stable influence of love and support. And it's amazing that stability is one of the great gifts she has given me. My mom came from a decidedly unstable home. While her dad was a loving, more constant figure in her life, her mother suffered deeply with mental illness and was anything but constant. Grandma Snow's life was hard from the beginning and didn't get much easier after she became a wife and mother. Recently, mom was looking at a picture of Grandma Snow holding mom's brother Selwyn as a baby and said, "Poor old mum, she just didn't know how to love." It was said with such love and compassion and yet such longing for some aspects of her young childhood to have been quite different. I know Grandma wanted to give mom stability and loved her dearly, but it wasn't until later in life that Grandma found mental and spiritual peace. At the end of her life she was fretting about that same son, Selwyn, and lovingly told my mom, "Oh Hoogs (my mom's nickname), you know, once a mum always a mum." I feel that mom's great mothering of her children was an example and light to her own mother. When Grandma passed away mom found pictures she had sent to Grandma of her little grandgirls. I know Grandma Snow understood what kind of a mother mom was. Grandma must have felt so good to know that her daughter, despite having serious challenges in life, had found a path that lead her to magnify and love her role as mother.
Mom was constant in private and in public. She was at all of my school functions, piano recitals and just about everything else. Most of my friends' moms worked, and the difference between their lives and my life was stark. When I was at my friends' houses the house felt empty. We didn't get into any real trouble, but we ate mountains of junk food and kept pretty lazy in front of the TV. At my house my mom would give us our space to be sulky teenagers, but at some point she would appear with a platter of treats and drinks and a warm, "Hey dudes" (much to my mixed chagrin and amusement). Always the loving bartender.
There were also so many quiet moments at home that kept me feeling secure and loved. Knowing that when I was sick mom would invariably administer to me with a cold compress and a humidifier, or that when she would kiss me on the cheek there would usually be a raspberry blown to finish it off, or that if I was upset or afraid she would stay with me and gently, yet firmly run her hand across my forehead for as long as I needed her. I literally think she was informally tucking me in until I graduated from high school. These things about mom just haven't changed. When I was in labor with Nicholas she was able to be there. She worked awfully hard following the birth coach's advice to apply pressure to my hips for hours, but yet when things got to a certain point she again stroked my face and forehead like she did when I was a little girl. A reminder that she was there. My fears and pain lessened as I felt that familiar, loving touch that I had known all of my life.
I find myself now singing the same lullabies and subconsciously mimicking her sweet, husky renditions as I put my boys to sleep. My hand seems to find their little foreheads when they cry and I can't help but give them the same loving touch that my mother did. When I was old enough to understand some of mom's struggles and difficulties in life I was honestly stunned, because her wholeness was tangible to me every day. Her mothering was and is so secure and constant and warm.
2 comments:
One of the many reasons why you're so awesome! Thanks for sharing this tender tribute.
I am crying! I love the way Robyn captured it all! You are my role model and inspiration! love you!
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