My Very Reflective Mother's Day

            Following my mother’s footsteps to Australia has been one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself. Although sadly I can’t share with her any of my adventures, I’ve learned so much more about her and the person that she was at my age from my travels—and it’s been one of the most incredible and awe-inspiring experiences. Not only that, but it’s helped me cope with her loss in such different ways than I ever would have back home. A very wise Katrina Fahey told me several months ago (quoted from her very wise brother) that grief is not linear, but circular, and will always affect us in different ways and at different times. In this week leading up to mother’s day, I’ve found this to be more true than ever.

            It’s not just the general sadness of missing out on sending a homemade card and a phone call to say “I love you, thanks for letting me warp your body 23 years ago so I could exist!” like I used to in the past (in my defense, my cheeky attitude came from her side of the family). Well, ok I definitely miss that too. However, I’ve found that in the last 2 months of being a nanny for a couple of super awesome kids has made me miss her more than I probably ever have in the last two and a half years. Why? Because 1) I’ve learned just as much about her as I have myself this past year, and how much more like her I am than I’ve ever known and 2) it’s made me realize just what an amazing mother she truly was. Of course, I’d always known that—especially after I got over my bitchy early teenager phase and she did my FAFSA forms every year for college (if that’s not the definition of motherly love, then I don’t know what is…). But getting to help care for Maya and Ollie has brought back so many long-forgotten memories of things that my Mom and Dad used to do with me when I was a kid. Things like playing roughly 248 games of tic-tac-toe with Ollie in one day make me remember all the patience, love, dedication, and sacrifice that Mom and Dad put into their parenting every single day for 23 years with me.  Fortunately I’ve still been able to tell my Dad how much more I’ve come to appreciate his parenting style and general amazingness (again, thanks for putting up with the teenage years, being such a pushover when it came to playing/swimming/buying new Barbies/etc., taking me to that baseball game to get me out of the house/escape Mom’s disappointed wrath the day I got suspended in 11^th grade, and patiently playing “just oooooone more game of Candy Land!” even though it was during Monday Night Football). That I am so grateful for. I’m just a bit blue that I don’t get to do the same in return for my Mom.

            In hindsight, holy shit she was probably the best Mom a girl could have ever asked for. I’d like to think that I didn’t take her for granted, but c’mon. I think we all do as kids and teens, even if it is just a little bit. I am glad that now I have come to be truly appreciative of everything she has done and been as a mother, even if I can’t tell her face to face (or long-distance expensive international phone call to long-distance expensive international phone call like with Dad). For one, still loving me even though I fully charged through that small-framed woman’s birth canal on that fateful day of August 2^nd, 1989 is enough for a lifetime of ‘thank you!!!’s. But given the 21 years I got to have her as a Mom and the 21 years of unconditional love that she showed me since Day 1 has got me thinking: what would I say to her if she were still here? How does one thank her for the ~7,400 days of being the perfect parent? What do I miss the most about her?

            Well, for starters, I would first of all apologize for every flippant and sassy retort that I ever threw at her. It was the teenage hormones and influence of MTV, I swear…but thanks for not killing me for it nonetheless. After that, I think a lot of the things I want to commend my mom for are the small things. The countless clever arts-and-crafts things we did were just so cool…and I’m glad that you passed that creative bone onto me, because I still enjoy making flower petal handprints, and now I get to do stuff like that with Ollie and MayaJ I miss getting to be your little spoon when watching Disney movies…Sleeping Beauty just isn’t the same anymore. I wish I could tell you that now I even like coffee, and I like it the exact same way that you used to—but haven’t gotten to the point where I have to microwave it 3 times because I keep forgetting about it. I miss your sing-songy voice saying “rise and shine, morning glory!” when I stubbornly wouldn’t get out of bed each school day. I wish we could have a candid and hilarious conversation about how you without a doubt always knew the difference between when I was genuinely tired from college and when I was hungover, but you never said anything to give it away (seriously thought I fooled you…). I wish we could laugh at Dad when he gets frustrated about you working in your garden until 10pm even though you were unwell…especially because I now find weeding just as therapeutic and enjoyable as you did. Although I was always a Daddy’s girl growing up, I am definitely more like you than either of us would have ever predicted. I miss you slamming on the invisible break pedal and digging your nails into the passenger seat when I drove. I miss all your ridiculous and overly descriptive post-it notes around the house (I think using 5 to indicate that there was bleach in the sink was a bit of overkill; Dad and I are oblivious sometimes, but 2 max would have been sufficient). I would tell you that Dad and I have commandeered your perfect laundry system, and that our scientific endeavors have led us to conclude that separating whites and colors is bullshit, and as a united front we stand by the principal that our body heat will iron out our clothing. I would tell you that you made the best fettuccini alfredo. I would thank you for playing rugby (you are the original badass in this lineage) and therefore making me want to, because that was the best decision I could’ve made when I got to college. Thank you for always letting me eat that one big chunk of cheese that wouldn’t go through the grater when we had taco night. Thanks for calmly putting my ponytail back up when it fell out and I panicked that morning that you dropped me off at daycare. Thanks for drawing chicken pox on my doll with red marker when I had them, I felt like less of a leper when Nina went through it too! Like you, Dolly Parton’s “The Grass is Blue” album is still one of my favorites. Thank you a thousand times for demanding that I go study abroad in Australia despite my fears of your declining health…that fiery encouragement has forever changed my life. I would tell you that [knock on wood] I think I’ve dodged that hereditary migraine bullet; with any luck, my future 4-year-old will never stick a maxipad to my neck mistaking it for an icepack. Thank you for always being behind the camera when Dad and I did seemingly mundane things…I know that those photographs of us asleep on the floor in the living room and painting the front porch like we do every year are absolute treasures (sigh, you were right). I tried reading the Hobbit, and I couldn’t do it…sorry! Even though Dad always swore we were never getting cats again, you letting that stray one in against his wishes was the best idea ever. He and Punkin are now BFFs. And while we’re on the subject, Punkin wouldn’t have been my first choice of names had I been included in the process; she’s more of a Captain Americat or Lady Lovehandles.

            That list could go on and on with all of the little things that I’ve remembered so fondly about Mom and her terrific parenting. But what I think I would have told her most is that it was all of the little things that she did as a parent that added up and made her so special and perfect. Everything she did was always done out of love, and for that I cannot thank her enough and tell her how much respect and gratitude I have. She was amazing, and I’m so sorry to say it but no one else’s mom holds a candle to mine. Even though this week leading up to mother’s day has made me miss her heaps more and admittedly made it a very tough week, I’m trying not to dwell on the negative things about it. Instead, I’m hoping that all of Sunday I can just keep focused on all of the wonderful things that my mother has given me, and hoping that somewhere, somehow she receives the message that I love her, miss her, and respect and appreciate her now more than ever.

            Lastly, of course mother’s day is not just about the thanking and recognizing the woman who gave you half her DNA. I want to take this opportunity to thank all of the women in my life who have served as amazing, caring role models and have had a hand in raising me; especially those who have vowed to be there for me (and have) after my mother passed away. Thank you grandma. Thank you Aunt Robin. Thank you Tammy. Thank you Aunt Sandy. Thank you Aunt Diane. Thank you Aunt Debbie. Thank you Aunt Jan. Thank you Aunt Becky. Thank you Groggy. Thank you Aussie momma Sue. Thank you Myra. Thank you Karolyn. Thank you Mrs. Theis, Mrs. Lackos, Marna, Mrs. Wing, Mrs. Antczak, and Mrs. Butterworth. Thank you Barb Calamia. Thank you Mrs. Johnson. Thank you Barb Prostak. To anyone that I have missed, I apologize, just know that I am appreciative! And even though at this age we all cringe about the idea of a family and babies, thanks to all of my amazing friends—female and male—who have been a comforting and loving presence in my life, particularly in these last few difficult years. And last but certainly not least, even though Father’s Day isn’t until June, there would be no Mother's Day without a Father who liked it enough to put a ring on it. So thanks Dad for everything. Everything, everything, everything, and then some.