Mother's Day

It figures that my blog entry about Mothers Day would be two days late. I have been so busy BEING a mom, that I haven't had time to WRITE about BEING one. So like any good mom...here I am 2 days later, up past my bedtime, snoring child upstairs safely tucked in her bed (home from college but I'd recognize that snore anywhere), dog asleep on my feet and a dish drainer of clean dishes in the sink (ok! I confess! The clean dishes are actually from yesterday...I ordered in pizza tonight and the paperplates are still on the table)...finally getting some ME time to blog:

I have been a mom now for 21 years. I have a confession to make to my child...I NEVER knew what I was doing. I had an excellent role model...my mom is the best, so at least I had that going for me.... but I was ALWAYS just kinda hoping for the best and doing what I could do without throwing up. Momming is hard work. Kids -- even smart kids -- shove raisins up their noses...they eat sand...they stick pads of butter on their heads in public places. The handbooks don't cover any of that. Its a wonder that any of us moms make it out alive. Our kids scream and stomp and yell and hit and cry and vomit and we try to not reciprocate though we feel the same -- THEY are only TWO and WE are the GROWN-UPS... it would be poor form.

We do ponytails and we make mudpies with ever changing recipes. We try to remember to say no when its right and not just when its popular. We show up at sports events and recitals and school productions and smile and clap wildly, eyes heavy from midnight mending sessions to make last minute uniform/costume alterations. We kiss boo-boos and mend hurt feelings. We struggle to let you learn from your own mistakes while hoping that we are learning from ours.

We see the sun rise while finishing science projects involving spewing volcanoes or making snacks for the party that children who forget nothing, forgot. We carpool, we volunteer, we fund-raise...all the while hoping that we are doing enough but not too much. We hold our children's hands and our own breath as they make life transitions and head for adulthood. We attempt to maintain control, if not over them, then over ourselves. We wince our way through driver's ed, dating and broken hearts wishing we could still heal everything with a band-aid and a kiss...

...and then...one day...they are gone. We look around our nest at the team photos on the mantle and the medals hanging in what will soon be the "guest room". We dig through shoe boxes full of memories that we thought we might someday organize into a scrapbook. Our work isn't finished, but the requirements of the job have changed and there is still no manual...no how-to...only more breath-holding and finger-crossing.

So on this (two days after) Mothers Day...I want to say:
to my mother -- I love you. Thank you for being the best mom a girl could ever want. You made it look easy.
And to my daughter: I love you. Someday you will celebrate Mother's Day from this side too and realize that everything you have read about raising children only works for other peoples children. Yours will be special...just like mine was...and just like Grandma's was. Hide the raisins, call for advice and remember, if you smile a lot, no one seems to notice that you have no clue what you are doing.