My Mother Taught Me...

Motherhood is one of the most complicated, challenging, frightening, frustrating, and yet rewarding experiences in life. There are no manuals, no instructions, what works with one child rarely works with the next. One success is often overshadowed by the next three (what appear to be) failures. Every day you wake up and try again. Your children judge you, hate you, love you, forget you, need you and in the end, you are still there for them.

Mother is a word used to describe the person we go to when we stubbed our toe, or when our siblings were mean to us. She is the one that made our lunches and cooked our breakfast and dinners. She was just that person who was always there doing what she always did, what we expected her to do.

I do not think we understand the term mother until we are older, and when we do, we often look back and see that there were many who “mothered” us over the years, shaping us as we traversed childhood, youth, and into our teen years. I have had several mothers in my life. Of course, my first, and most important mother is my Mom, and I will save her for last, others have slipped in and out over the years, but she was, is, and always has been the constant, even when I did not know it.

As a child, my entire neighborhood was filled with “mothers”. We would go from house to house playing in the yards all day and often into the night. Mrs. Peterson, Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Woodard, and on and on. We were all interchangeable children. We did not fear who lived next door or down the road, and every mother watched out for every child. When I visit my childhood home and think of those that have passed on, I am so grateful for my childhood and the joys that it held, and all the wonderful “mothers” that watched over me.

Other mothers stepped in at crucial times, leaving their impact forever. It always seemed that these people stepped in when my own mother could not. Their examples and influence often altered my path without my ever realizing it. Some were older women, with families of their own, who saw a need and responded. Some were girls my own age that had the ability to “mother” me by loving me and accepting me as I was.

All throughout my life, I have accepted these women who made such an impact on me, but rarely did I tell them how much it meant, and the worst part is, it is the same for my own mother. For so many years I just accepted what she did, never considering the cost to herself. It was not until recently that I have seen in her a strength that I never knew she had. It was not until I walked in her shoes for just a moment in my own life that I understood. Now that I am a mother, now that I am on the other side of motherhood with grown children, I see so many lessons that she tried to teach me that I missed at the time but that are now impacting me in tender personal ways. No matter what the other “mothers” in my life offered, nothing compared to what my own mother has taught me.

My mother taught me that barefoot is best, that red spaghetti makes you feel better, homemade bread fixes everything, and that pancakes are supposed to be stacked at least three high. My mother taught me that imagination can carry you far, and that creativity opens doors. My mother taught me that digging in the dirt is healing and that the smell of lilacs means home and that roses are worth planting. My mother taught me that limits are only there if we let them be.

My mother taught me that your own self-worth is important when she chose to divorce my father for repeated infidelities. My mother taught me that silent sacrifice is the best when she sold her wedding ring to buy me a stereo for my birthday. My mother taught me that love is unconditional as she accepted my stepfather’s children as her own. My mother taught me that being happy for your children regardless of their choices or how they treat you is painful but possible. My mother taught me, children, first personal life later.

My mother taught me that when you cannot get the baby to stop crying it is all right to cry with them. My mother taught me that when I did not talk to her for a month, and then called her frantically for parenting help, mothers are always there. My mother taught me that there are no perfect mothers, simply perfect love. My mother taught me that the house does not have to be clean, just visible organized chaos. My mother taught me that when I chose my husbands family over her, that love is unconditional.

When my marriage began to struggle, and I was lost, my mother reminded me that my own self-worth is not based on the person I married, it is based on who I see myself to be. As I went through my divorce my mother taught me that there is hope on the other side, and as I moved into my own place for the first time in my life, I realized my mother had already taught me that I can do hard things. And as I learn to live alone with myself, I realize that my mother taught me that it is all right to learn from who you were, accept who you are, and see the potential in who you can become.

My mother taught me that love can be found again, adventures happen even when you are older, and that your dreams can come true if you have faith, but you must love yourself first.

My angel mother is still with me, and I am rebuilding the relationship that was lost for so many years. She was silently there through it all, watching from a distance as I struggled, she waited for me to need her again. I never really stopped needing her, I just did not realize how much I did until she was there when the time came. Now more than ever I continue to see the lessons she taught me without my ever knowing.

Motherhood is complicated, challenging, frightening, frustrating and yet in the end there is nothing in this world that can offer as much as the love of a mother.