Our mothers are our first homes, and that’s why we always trying to return to them. By Michele Filgate in What My Mother and I Don’t Talk About.
I emailed a friend in recently to bid her Happy Mother’s Day. Normally sunny, her response caught me off guard when she mentioned how sad this holiday made her. I’d grown accustomed to being the maudlin one about moms and Mother’s Day.
But when I checked my Facebook feed, there were numerous tributes to moms lost due to death or alienation. A few brave moms of deceased children posted their grief. Others were caring for their elderly mothers who now no longer remembered them.
The day evokes a lot of emotion for so many of us.
I’d been thinking about my own mother that week, and about some of the good things she instilled. My mother fostered a love of reading, which sparked my interest in stories and in writing. If I asked for a book, I nearly always got it. (I was lucky to have older siblings who read to me and taught me to be an early reader, too.)
My mom promoted a love of animals to us kids which is a huge part of my life to this day. She didn’t easily sustain relationships with pets, or with people, for that matter, but it was a nice start. And she was a believer in volunteer work, which I have subsequently embraced.
True, I’ve written about my mom’s tendency to dislike the mother role enough to seemingly dispense of her kids, leaving us later in life to scout one another out as if on at Easter egg hunt.
Clearly, not every woman is cut out to be a mom.
It doesn’t help that we expect so much from them. I can think of no other role so important, or so scrutinized. The impact of the mothering we receive during our early years lingers throughout our entire lives, and far into the future if we have kids, and if they do, too.
Mothers are idealized as protectors: a person who is caring and giving and who builds a person up rather than knocking them down. But very few of us can say our mothers check all of these boxes. In many ways, a mother is set up to fail.-Lynn Steger Strong in What My Mother and I Don’t Talk About.
I’ve been fortunate to have so many different women in my life who’ve given me guidance and motherly love. I’ve appreciated that there were limitations to it, and conscious not to overstay my emotional welcome since these women had their own children and their own lives. From grade schoolteachers and a college professor to a former roommate and friends’ moms, and later in life, my newfound aunts, I have benefitted from random gifts of maternal love.
As for me, I’ve made lots of mistakes with my kids. They relied on their own supplemental moms at times to fill in my gaps. And after watching me struggle as a single mom, neither of my kids were moved to become parents themselves, though they’ve provided me with numerous grand-pets.
A few days ago, a crisis call from one of my daughter’s friends, whose mother passed away, brought it full circle. She needed someone to just listen, and I got to be the stand-in mom figure, even for just a little while.
How wonderful it is to know that we can help fill in parenting or mentoring gaps for others. And equally fabulous to think about spending time with little kids one day who may not have a grandparent in close proximity. I like the idea of being a supplemental mom and grandmom.
Expanding the definition of family can be a beautiful thing. It can reduce pressure and feelings of isolation. I felt insecure when my own kids relied on other moms, but I came to understand the great benefits to all involved down the line.
Moms (and dads) are the original influencers, but we can all choose to have or to be supplements to help along the way. It can ease the pressure we put on our parents or ourselves.
A humble thank you to dear Fay for the incredibly generous and unexpected gift to my oldest daughter after reading my last post. My daughter is now the proud owner of a reliable and safe vehicle again.
Thank you for stopping by.
In case you missed it, here’s the lovely and in depth conversation between mom writers I’ve come to adore and admire. Thankful to be a part. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2ZUE9InsLM