My mom.

I had no other choice but to be an awesome woman, my mom set the bar pretty high. The sad part is that she looks at me and at times sees what she thinks are her mistakes. I think far from this. When I was born my mom was really sick. Did not recover from my birth and the Doctors even told my Dad to pick out a coffin and to consider leaving me with the nuns as they already had a 15 month old at home. Instead, I lived my first months with my grandparents until my mom recovered and was back on her feet. This past summer, as a woman in her 60's and me in my late 40's she confided to me with tears in her eyes that she has always felt guilty about this choice and feels terrible that I don't have the connections with our immediate family like my siblings all do.

Funny how I don't see it this way. First of all, she did her best in that situation and I don't see how she had any other choice. Secondly, I needed love and attention which my grandparents gave me and were able to focus on just me. Lastly, my brother was attached to her and would have had more difficulty had he been away from her. I would have done the same thing.

What I do see are the gifts my mother gave me. My mom was a slender, active, attractive, Jackie Kennedy type young mom. Pictures of her when we were toddlers are amazing. My mom had it together even when she had 3 kids 3 and under, and then later a fourth.

Up until the time we were in junior high my mom was a stay at home mom. I remember her face watching at the door as we walked up the street to school. Shopping at the day old bread store. Mom going over our homework and grades sitting at the kitchen table with her cup of coffee. (years later I found out she didn't drink coffee she was having a coke but didn't want us to know) I remember the dresses she made for us, matching hers most of the time. Her friends coming over to play bridge in the afternoon. Letting us make homemade donuts even when lit the linoleum on fire. The way she picked up the house and applied fresh lipstick just before my Dad came home.

My mom let us be kids. We spent summers at the lake complete with every motorized land and water gizmo invented. She water skied with us into her 50's. We went tobogganing in the winter coming home to a warm fire and hot chocolate even though she was right there with us on the toboggan. We watched the Wizard of Oz with huge bowls of popcorn and malts EVERY year even though we woke up with flying monkey nightmares for weeks after. Summers were spent outside ALL day with the caveat that we had to be in the house when the street lights came on. We made lightning bug rings, clover crowns and spent evenings playing kick the can with 30 of our closest neighborhood friends. We went to church, and dressing up to go every time. Every week we went to our grandparents house, pretended to fall asleep in the car on the way home, JUST so Mom and Dad would carry us up to bed and let us sleep in our clothes

As we got older my mom went back to work. She is an intelligent, creative person who was ready to put this into play outside the home. She was a temp for a while, describing each new experience and how fun each job was. Her confidence and ability to go back to work, and in a meaningful, important position after years of being home raising her kids sent me the message that she could, and wanted to, spend time with us as our mother but could also contribute outside our home as well. When I did the same thing a few years ago I didn't realize how hard it was when she made it look so easy. I was in turmoil not knowing who I was or what I wanted after so many years of knowing exactly who I was and where I was going.

My mom had, and still has, a large group of friends and even closer handful of really good friends. Her closest friends are the same she has had since those bridge playing days from 40 years ago. She is a wonderful, caring daughter to my elderly grandparents (who are still alive) an incredible sister to my uncles, a loving grandmother to my kids and their cousins. My Dad is lucky to have her but he isn't too bad himself.

My mom has given me so many gifts and they all started with her first gift of allowing herself to heal (and live) and me to be loved by people who loved us both, my grandparents, so she could be around to do all the things that came in the years to follow. Mom, I love you and your first gift was that you loved me enough to make sure you could give of yourself for years to come.