Happy Mother’s Day

It’s been over two months since I’ve posted anything. On January 1st, I posted A Prayer for 2015. It was a prayer that while working full time, I would be organized, fruitful, and productive. I wanted to hit every area of my life, and I imagined how I would do it. But, I haven’t done it. And that’s largely why I haven’t written in over two months. Working full time and learning a new industry has been like learning a new language, complete with a new alphabet. And, as smart as I sometimes think I can be, much of the time I feel really dumb.

All that to say, the job is going well! But it’s not without hurdles. And other areas of my life have presented some challenges that at times have wiped me out. And that’s not something I’ve been up to sharing. So. Even though all that is true; it’s really an explanation of my absence, and my segue into an opportunity to post something fun: sweet memories from being a mother. I actually wrote this for our company newsletter, when we were all invited to offer a “little” something. My submission wasn’t so little, thus wasn’t included in the company newsletter, but it’s perfect for my blog:

This Mother’s Day, my mind doesn’t flood with childhood memories of a typical mom.  But my own two kids have granted me “mom memories” that have long since compensated for the absence of boastful memories about my own mom. I’ve jumped for joy when my daughter won her heat at a swim meet, cried when my son struck out, and I beam when he tackles a receiver, as much for his success as anything else. Living day in and day out with one’s children creates endless memories.  Like many moms, I could stay up well past midnight talking into the night about my kids, or I could write a book that would make me beam and make me cry, completely at the same time. That’s a mom. Here are a couple of sweet memories to share with you in honor of MOTHER’S DAY.

When my son was two or three, he had a small spot in the middle back of his neck that I loved to snuggle and kiss. I’d grab his little body, wrestle it into mine, pull him tight and say, “Where’s my “favorite spot? I love my favorite spot!“  One day I over heard him say to one of my friends, “My mom loves to kiss my ‘private spot.'” EEEKS!

One night at dinner we stumbled around general conversation. Alex (a little boy I babysat and Bridgette’s friend) was with us. They were four or five years old. Bridgette asked if she was going to marry Alex. We explained that we didn’t know, and that a lot had to happen before she got married. “What has to happen?“ she asked, always the planner. I said, “Well, first you’ll go to school all the way until you graduate from high school. That will take 12 years. Then, you’ll go to college; there’s at least another four years. You might meet someone in college, and then after college, you might get married.” I’m trying to set the stage so she believes there’s no deviation of that plan. At age 4 or 5, I could do that. She says, “Then, I just pick one?“ “Well, yeah,” I say. “We’ll do it together. We’ll look at colleges and decide which one is best for you.“ “No!” she says. “Pick the husband. How do I pick him? When I go to college, do I just pick the one I want?“

I never wrote these memories down, because I can’t imagine forgetting them. They’re embedded in my memory and heart forever. Until I forget anyway. I turned 55 in the two months that I haven’t written and it’s clear that the memory doesn’t last forever. Not that things suddenly began to slip on my 55th birthday; but it’s easier to use 55 as an excuse than it is to use 45.

Here you go, sweet peas. These memories are now recorded and are yours.

Happy Mother’s Day!