Motherhood

Another nugget from my drafts folder, for Mother's Day (lightly edited).

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... this post has been simmering in my head for a while. In some ways, I feel like a completely different person than I used to be in my 20s. But at the same time, when Valerie was born, I felt as though I had always been a mother. This identity, this way of being me, has always been latent within me somewhere. Now it just came to the surface. Despite the fact that I worried for years whether I would be a good enough mother, it just feels right (most of the time). 

 

What does it mean to be a mother? During the fall of 2008, I forget exactly when, but it was a Wednesday night and Terry was in Harrisonburg and I was in Ithaca, I remember thinking "this is what it means to be a mother." Wednesday night is trash night. It was cold, and raining, and as I struggled to wrestle both the umbrella and the garbage can, I finally gave up and left the umbrella by the door to carry the garbage can to the road. I was in my pajamas. Valerie was asleep inside. I got all wet. It was probably midnight. I thought of my mom, and of Caroline Ingalls, and thought that my definition of mother is the person who does what needs to be done, because there's nobody else to do it.



There's a really great book by Magda Pecsenye, aka "Ask Moxie," titled You're the Best Parent For Your Child. It's been a really great confidence-builder for me as a mother, lots of encouragement but solid encouragement. Not just "you're doing great" cheerleading but a lot of really solid stuff there.

Our kids are hilarious, smart, surprising, entertaining. I am all too often impatient, tired, selfish, and boring. I love them to death. This has got to be the "toughest job you'll ever love."

With so much love to my Mom and mother-figures in my life.