M is for the Million Things She Gave Me.........

My mom turns 68 tomorrow. She has now lived a year longer than my dad who passed away in 2008 at the age of 67.

My mom’s been there since I took my first breath, nursed me back to health when I was sick, taught me how to read at the age of 3, listened to me complain without judgment (or at least vocal judgment) over the years about frivolous things, and hugged me tight when I have cried over some not so frivolous things. She rarely raised her voice to me. All it took as a kid was a raised eyebrow from her and a LOOK, and I’d typically fall right in line. Sadly, I have no such super powers as a mother myself. 

My mom is insanely smart. She knows most of the "questions" on Jeopardy and almost always manages to complete the Sunday NY Times crossword puzzle in one day. She’s very easy to talk to as evidenced by complete strangers opening up their life stories to her time and time again. She can be wickedly funny, is universally likable, and in her youth, her good looks led her to be referred to as a young Elizabeth Taylor (without the multitude of husbands and prescription drug problems). My mom gives me guidance when I ask for it and keeps her opinions to herself when she recognizes they are not useful nor wanted. She is ALWAYS there for me when I need her. 

I naively thought that’s what all moms are like. Until, as an adult, I realized just how wrong I was and how much I have taken her love and support for granted. 

Several  friends of mine have recently confessed to me that while they love their mothers, their relationships with them can be difficult at best, harrowing at worst. One friend’s mom demanded that she be involved in every detail of her daughter’s 40^th birthday celebration planning without giving any thought to what my friend actually wanted to do. This same mom insisted on sightseeing with my friend while her two young children were sick demanding that she drag them along. Another friend’s mom insisted that her daughter not name her baby a certain name; one of the few that my friend and her husband agreed on. I’ve heard other stories from friends about their mothers not helping with the grandchildren at all, to those moms who make it their business to insert themselves into every parenting decision their daughter makes.  Some have mothers who are critical of their every move, others have mothers who are so self-absorbed, they don't involve themselves in any aspect of their children's lives. One friend's mother actually ran off in a huff from dinner at a restaurant when the conversation wasn't to her liking and took the train  back to her hometown without so much as a phone call. 

I listen to these friends with a sympathetic ear but I can’t really relate to them. You see, my mom is awesome.

She’s the strongest person I know. My mom regularly puts herself out there into uncharted situations and continuously wants to learn and try new things. She loves watching fluff like Glee and Clueless as much as she enjoys her more intellectual pursuits.

She rarely, if ever, complains about her lot in life.

While losing my dad to a cancer that could have been caught if he had been willing to visit a doctor sooner, and having to work while other friends are spending their golden years traveling isn't what she anticipated her life to be, she’s making the best of her situation. Rather than wallow in her seeming misfortune, she's chosen to carry on the only way she knows how; by choosing to live her life to the best of her ability. She recently joined a singing group continuing to indulge in a passion of hers that she's had for years.   Her friendship circle has expanded thanks to groups through Meet Up.com, teaching, and other interests. While she and my dad, who were married for 37 years at the time of his passing, shared a lot of interests, my mom has continued to engage in those things that give her joy and sustenance. Those things include spending quality time with her granddaughter. My kid reaps the benefits of having my mom live close by enough to spend at least one night and/or day a week with her. And I love to spend time with her, too. We see movies together, go shopping, explore museums, do dinner. We don't talk every day and I wouldn't call her my friend. She's my mom which to me, is a whole different category of special. 

As a parent myself, I see how difficult it is to be the mom that my mom has been to me. It’s hard for me to let my daughter fail and make mistakes without inserting myself into the situation, even if rationally, I know those mistakes are necessary so that she can grow and learn from them. It’s hard to provide constructive criticism when warranted and avoid nagging and criticizing Holly when it will provide no benefit. It’s hard for me not to raise my voice when my my daughter frustrates me and I’m feeling tired and annoyed, often by things that have nothing to do with her.

But, I’m lucky. I have my mom as my role model. She’s the little voice in the back of my head guiding my conscience to lead me try to do the right thing.

I don’t always do the right thing as a parent. I make mistakes. I know my mom did and still does, too (I never said she was perfect.) But if I could be at least half as good a mother to my daughter as she’s been to me, I know I’ll be okay.

I love you, Mom. Happy Birthday.