;)
Sunday
May112008
Long Overdue
Sunday, May 11, 2008 at 1:14AM
Dear Pat,
Today is my 16th Mother’s Day without you. To be fair, I have actually had 32 Mother’s Days without you, because you never let us celebrate them, did you? But here we are, as many Mother’s Days away from each other as we spent together.
I can’t begin to imagine what you are doing today. I think you’ll sit in your recliner, playing video games or watching TV. The last time I saw you, Al Gore hadn’t given us the internet yet and Nintendo had just recently released Tetris, which totally consumed you (and half of America.) I bet you are in Big-Pink-Puffy-Heart love with the internet now.
Today, I am taking my three children to see Iron Man. Do you know I have three children? I do, and they look a lot like you sometimes. They ask about you occasionally, and I have never known what to say to them to make them understand. I don’t think I ever will.
I find that it is easier most times to imagine that you are dead. I write these letters semi-annually, and I never have anywhere to send them. I mailed you that one 6 years ago, on the anniversary of our first decade apart, but since then you have moved from the only house I’d ever known as home, and I have no address for you now. I am left to write you these letters, knowing that you’ll never get them, and I secretly wish I had some tombstone to lay them in front of, some marker in a cold, forgotten yard that I could take them to, hand them off, and be done with this. It’s a heavier burden to bear than I’ll ever admit to anyone, this dragging you around with me.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what I know about being a mother, a wife, a human, a woman; naturally my thoughts come back to you. You had 16 short years to pull and tug and mold and shape me, and I have to give you credit for packing a lifetime of lessons into what I know now was just a blink of an eye.
I learned things from you that I don’t know I would have learned without you, without having had you as a mother specifically. I think about my oldest son, and how he wants to learn everything. He wants flute lessons and saxophone lessons and hockey lessons and science camp in the summer. You taught me that a child like that, like I was, will learn no matter how much you ignore their requests. They will find a way. Because of you, I almost never say no to him when it comes to learning. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get him the coach or the tutor or the equipment. I learned how to say no from you, but more importantly I learned that sometimes, it’s really important to not say no after all.
I watch my middle son testing everything in his path, pushing his limits, and mine, too. I sit waiting as he slowly tries to dismantle every system, debunk every theory, rebel against every authority figure. I watch him learn manipulation. I take special note during the times when his sly antics give way to his inherent eight year old nature, and when he gets downright disrespectful and awful, I remember how I learned from you that a belt on the bottom is much more powerful a tool than a strongly worded lecture or a smack on the hand. And then I remember what it felt like to have my skin ripped open, and the smell of my own blood, and the terror of total helplessness, and I find patience inside of myself and the realization that my child, who you would probably label as “damned,” is really just amazingly creative and intelligent and, well, eight. And eight is alright just the way it is.
I watch my daughter, the baby who is certainly not a baby anymore, and I see her becoming a girl already. There are shimmers of the woman she will be already reflecting in her eyes. She is the feistiest thing you’d ever meet, headstrong, defiant, sassy, and beautiful in a way that few people ever are. Every now and then, just for a moment, I feel in myself what I imagine you felt when you looked at me; resentment. I never had that thing she’s got when I was a girl; that confidence, that sure nature, that comfortableness. She is pretty hot shit, that kid, and don’t think she doesn’t know it. And I envy her that sometimes. I think about how hard you worked to be sure that I knew what a woman’s place was, and that I knew I was gangly, awkward and next to worthless, and in that you taught me humility, which I work so hard every day to instill in my own children. What I took away from you was the awareness of what was teaching humility and what was destruction. I see the line where you couldn’t. I am not afraid of my daughter the way you were, afraid of her becoming more of a person that I will ever be able to. I insist she does, actually. I am determined to help her with that in any way I can.
As my children grow older, and being to grasp the concept of the world beyond themselves, they naturally grow more and more curious about God and Spirituality. I think about how important my faith was to me as a child, my weird, backwards, twisted version of some very basic ideals that you chose to force feed us with. I am glad I had that, that I was able to learn what blind faith and abject devotion are. I am lead to wonder how you could choose your religion over your children, since my children are the only other thing that has inspired those sorts of emotions in me. You had your whole life to live and breath and soak in the world around you, and then you chose to change and were magically forgiven for all that living and breathing and soaking. You bore us and brought us up in a world that forbade looking outside the windows, having an opinion or insight or even a desire to know the things happening all around us in the world. We lived and believed and served and when it came our time to see the rest of the world, just like you had time for all those years ago, suddenly our minor transgressions, our year or two of screwing around before both my brother and I settled down, married and had our families with the very people we were screwing around with, those transgressions somehow became grander than any of yours, more unforgivable than anything you could have done. For choosing to live, you condemned us to death. You allowed your group, your religion, your beliefs, to push your children away. That I promise you I will never do. I will never indoctrinate my children. I will never tell them what to believe. I will give them options and information and I will fully support whatever road they take in their life. Whatever road. Without you, I never would have known how important it is to give my kids that sort of control over their own destinies.
You taught me that a child is capable of great things, and that a child can be totally self-sufficient if necessary. In teaching me that, you also taught me that it is very important to teach a child that they have a support structure, that they don’t have to do everything on their own. Because of you I know that something as simple as a mother’s touch can mean the difference between raising people capable of forming real, lasting relationships and raising people who grow up to afraid to reach out to anyone on any level, people who have to learn how to cope with the touch of their own children later.
Someday, I hope, I may forgive you, but I will never want to forget you, and I am not sorry for one minute of our life together. You tried with everything you had to crush me, to spite me and, I am guessing, my father through me, and all you succeeding in doing was making one very strong, very hard, very sensible woman who would walk through fire to keep those who are hers from knowing things she knows. You made someone who turned out so fine that another someone, an amazing someone that is better and finer than I could've imagined a person could ever be, saw fit to take your place 12 years later, and now not only do I have the benefit of true wisdom, experience and some serious motivation to improve every day, I have a woman in my life that I can close my eyes and pretend is my mother when I reallyreally need one. My cup is very busily runnething the hell over.
Every single thing that I am today, I am because of you. You make me try harder, think longer, scream louder for my children. Not one bit of this came naturally to me; I was never taught how to mother, I never had a role-model whose example I could follow. I have nothing to take for granted here. If I want my children to grow up strong and confident and better than I was, more than I could ever hope to be, I have to work. I have to remember every single thing you did to me and said to me and thought of me and I have to make sure I never see any of that in my mirror. It is a battle, this unlearning you, and it will never be easy. You gave me every single tool I could ever need to be the very best mother in the whole world. All I have to do is remember you every single day.
And I do. And I always will.
Kindly linked by Little Albatross and The Soul on Every Path
Today is my 16th Mother’s Day without you. To be fair, I have actually had 32 Mother’s Days without you, because you never let us celebrate them, did you? But here we are, as many Mother’s Days away from each other as we spent together.
I can’t begin to imagine what you are doing today. I think you’ll sit in your recliner, playing video games or watching TV. The last time I saw you, Al Gore hadn’t given us the internet yet and Nintendo had just recently released Tetris, which totally consumed you (and half of America.) I bet you are in Big-Pink-Puffy-Heart love with the internet now.
Today, I am taking my three children to see Iron Man. Do you know I have three children? I do, and they look a lot like you sometimes. They ask about you occasionally, and I have never known what to say to them to make them understand. I don’t think I ever will.
I find that it is easier most times to imagine that you are dead. I write these letters semi-annually, and I never have anywhere to send them. I mailed you that one 6 years ago, on the anniversary of our first decade apart, but since then you have moved from the only house I’d ever known as home, and I have no address for you now. I am left to write you these letters, knowing that you’ll never get them, and I secretly wish I had some tombstone to lay them in front of, some marker in a cold, forgotten yard that I could take them to, hand them off, and be done with this. It’s a heavier burden to bear than I’ll ever admit to anyone, this dragging you around with me.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what I know about being a mother, a wife, a human, a woman; naturally my thoughts come back to you. You had 16 short years to pull and tug and mold and shape me, and I have to give you credit for packing a lifetime of lessons into what I know now was just a blink of an eye.
I learned things from you that I don’t know I would have learned without you, without having had you as a mother specifically. I think about my oldest son, and how he wants to learn everything. He wants flute lessons and saxophone lessons and hockey lessons and science camp in the summer. You taught me that a child like that, like I was, will learn no matter how much you ignore their requests. They will find a way. Because of you, I almost never say no to him when it comes to learning. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get him the coach or the tutor or the equipment. I learned how to say no from you, but more importantly I learned that sometimes, it’s really important to not say no after all.
I watch my middle son testing everything in his path, pushing his limits, and mine, too. I sit waiting as he slowly tries to dismantle every system, debunk every theory, rebel against every authority figure. I watch him learn manipulation. I take special note during the times when his sly antics give way to his inherent eight year old nature, and when he gets downright disrespectful and awful, I remember how I learned from you that a belt on the bottom is much more powerful a tool than a strongly worded lecture or a smack on the hand. And then I remember what it felt like to have my skin ripped open, and the smell of my own blood, and the terror of total helplessness, and I find patience inside of myself and the realization that my child, who you would probably label as “damned,” is really just amazingly creative and intelligent and, well, eight. And eight is alright just the way it is.
I watch my daughter, the baby who is certainly not a baby anymore, and I see her becoming a girl already. There are shimmers of the woman she will be already reflecting in her eyes. She is the feistiest thing you’d ever meet, headstrong, defiant, sassy, and beautiful in a way that few people ever are. Every now and then, just for a moment, I feel in myself what I imagine you felt when you looked at me; resentment. I never had that thing she’s got when I was a girl; that confidence, that sure nature, that comfortableness. She is pretty hot shit, that kid, and don’t think she doesn’t know it. And I envy her that sometimes. I think about how hard you worked to be sure that I knew what a woman’s place was, and that I knew I was gangly, awkward and next to worthless, and in that you taught me humility, which I work so hard every day to instill in my own children. What I took away from you was the awareness of what was teaching humility and what was destruction. I see the line where you couldn’t. I am not afraid of my daughter the way you were, afraid of her becoming more of a person that I will ever be able to. I insist she does, actually. I am determined to help her with that in any way I can.
As my children grow older, and being to grasp the concept of the world beyond themselves, they naturally grow more and more curious about God and Spirituality. I think about how important my faith was to me as a child, my weird, backwards, twisted version of some very basic ideals that you chose to force feed us with. I am glad I had that, that I was able to learn what blind faith and abject devotion are. I am lead to wonder how you could choose your religion over your children, since my children are the only other thing that has inspired those sorts of emotions in me. You had your whole life to live and breath and soak in the world around you, and then you chose to change and were magically forgiven for all that living and breathing and soaking. You bore us and brought us up in a world that forbade looking outside the windows, having an opinion or insight or even a desire to know the things happening all around us in the world. We lived and believed and served and when it came our time to see the rest of the world, just like you had time for all those years ago, suddenly our minor transgressions, our year or two of screwing around before both my brother and I settled down, married and had our families with the very people we were screwing around with, those transgressions somehow became grander than any of yours, more unforgivable than anything you could have done. For choosing to live, you condemned us to death. You allowed your group, your religion, your beliefs, to push your children away. That I promise you I will never do. I will never indoctrinate my children. I will never tell them what to believe. I will give them options and information and I will fully support whatever road they take in their life. Whatever road. Without you, I never would have known how important it is to give my kids that sort of control over their own destinies.
You taught me that a child is capable of great things, and that a child can be totally self-sufficient if necessary. In teaching me that, you also taught me that it is very important to teach a child that they have a support structure, that they don’t have to do everything on their own. Because of you I know that something as simple as a mother’s touch can mean the difference between raising people capable of forming real, lasting relationships and raising people who grow up to afraid to reach out to anyone on any level, people who have to learn how to cope with the touch of their own children later.
Someday, I hope, I may forgive you, but I will never want to forget you, and I am not sorry for one minute of our life together. You tried with everything you had to crush me, to spite me and, I am guessing, my father through me, and all you succeeding in doing was making one very strong, very hard, very sensible woman who would walk through fire to keep those who are hers from knowing things she knows. You made someone who turned out so fine that another someone, an amazing someone that is better and finer than I could've imagined a person could ever be, saw fit to take your place 12 years later, and now not only do I have the benefit of true wisdom, experience and some serious motivation to improve every day, I have a woman in my life that I can close my eyes and pretend is my mother when I reallyreally need one. My cup is very busily runnething the hell over.
Every single thing that I am today, I am because of you. You make me try harder, think longer, scream louder for my children. Not one bit of this came naturally to me; I was never taught how to mother, I never had a role-model whose example I could follow. I have nothing to take for granted here. If I want my children to grow up strong and confident and better than I was, more than I could ever hope to be, I have to work. I have to remember every single thing you did to me and said to me and thought of me and I have to make sure I never see any of that in my mirror. It is a battle, this unlearning you, and it will never be easy. You gave me every single tool I could ever need to be the very best mother in the whole world. All I have to do is remember you every single day.
And I do. And I always will.
Kindly linked by Little Albatross and The Soul on Every Path
Reader Comments (72)
Wow. All I can say is Wow babe. I have only known you such a short time, I had no idea.
Today I had a conversation with my mother. About how beatings and belittling and terror tactics do not make a perfect child. My children have had the complete opposite upbringing to me and have turned out amazing caring wonderful people.
But shit. All that pales in comparison.
Happy Mothers Day my lovely, I can honestly say that you have to be one of the most awesomnest mum's I have ever known.
Smootches sweetie, oh and I am LOVING the new look!
Kelley's last blog post..http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MagnetoBoldToo/~3/287438035/' rel="nofollow">You know you are addicted to blogging when…
I am in awe at the person you have become. It doesn't always turn out this way. It takes a pretty amazing person to look at a pile of mud and see clay. And an even more amazing person to DO something with that clay.
BusyDad's last blog post..http://www.busydadblog.com/entries/mom-im-not-gonna-tell-you-what-it-is.html' rel="nofollow">Mom, I'm Not Gonna Tell You What It Is...
Quite powerful.
Well done to you, and happy mother's day.
Xbox4NappyRash's last blog post..http://xbox4nappyrash.blogspot.com/2008/05/better-than-christmas.html' rel="nofollow">Better than Christmas
If I were near you, I’d reach out, put my hand on your shoulder, look deeply into your eyes, and nod my head up and down as if to say, I’m sorry.
Audubon Ron's last blog post..http://ducksmahal.blogspot.com/2008/05/mothers-day-story.html' rel="nofollow">Mother's Day Story
This moved me so much. I wish more people valued relationships over rules and religion. Your children are very blessed.
Musing's last blog post..http://musing.typepad.com/blog/2008/05/35-months-of-my.html' rel="nofollow">35 months of my life
Wow. I mean Wow.
I am crying. I can relate. I am in awe of you.
tiff's last blog post..http://www.mythreeringcircus.com/2008/05/weekly-winners-mothers-day-edition/' rel="nofollow">Weekly Winners - Mother's Day Edition.
My mom's mother died when she was 11. My mom had no example, few memories and was very young when she had my brother. But she is simply the most grand mother alive. I believe it's b/c she had to think through every single parenting choice; instead of just following the example, good or bad, of her own experiences.
She, and you, make me want to be a better mom, the best mom, my own kind of mom.
Jenni's last blog post..http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/justchickenfeed/NrIT/~3/286837828/haiku-ouch.html' rel="nofollow">Haiku Ouch!
That took my breath away. You, Shannon, are an inspiration.
I hope your mothers day is simply the best.
Chuck's last blog post..http://www.disfordad.com/2008/05/08/sometimes-they-call/' rel="nofollow">Sometimes they call
My turn:
I love you. That is all.
OHmommy's last blog post..http://www.classychaos.com/2008/05/private-letter-to-my-mama.html' rel="nofollow">A Private Letter to my Mama.
That was incredible.
You are incredible.
Alison's last blog post..http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/mountainmomma/~3/287214734/why-arent-we-carrying-each-other.html' rel="nofollow">Why Aren't We Carrying Each Other?
Oh, S! Amazing.
And I love seeing these inner workings of you; that you're not just wickedly funny and smart but resolute too.
From strange beginnings come mighty oaks.
daysgoby's last blog post..http://jessalogic.blogspot.com/2008/05/she-was-asleep-five-minutes-later.html' rel="nofollow">she was asleep five minutes later
I hear ya. You could have been bent in any direction, coming from that fire, but you reached down deep and bent that steel into both a sword and a plow. Not many people can do that.....
Happy Mother's Day.
christy's last blog post..http://thesouloneverypath.blogspot.com/2008/05/no-hornier-than-average-womanfinally.html' rel="nofollow">No hornier than the average woman.....finally
Powerful stuff. Good for you from learning and rising above rather than succumbing to the lessons your mother was bent on teaching you.
Happy Mother's Day to you!
Nola's last blog post..http://www.nolanotes.com/2008/05/09/bayou-banquet/' rel="nofollow">Bayou Banquet
Happy Mother's Day.
Wow, I could have written so much of that myself. Too much. Especially that last paragraph.
Good for you for choosing to fight and survive and not be crushed. And for not following down her path, just because it was what was familiar. I know that it's a hard battle... but it is so worth it.
I have heard my children say "I love you, Mom" out of real love, not fear or obligation. I don't think my own mother could say the same.
Thanks for your post.
i'm extending my fist outward. tap it. you know you wanna.
love. seriously, hardcore love. now, i need a tissue.
zoeyjane's last blog post..http://mommyismoody.com/2008/05/10/the-future/' rel="nofollow">The Future
Powerful stuff indeed. Mothers shape so very much of who we are - I am so glad you are who you are - now, go off and have yourself a downright awesome Mother's Day! You deserve it!
I don't know what to say other than Thank You. Thank you for having the strength of your own convictions to lead your own way, so that we could learn from your experience. Your children are truly blessed to have such a strong, capable Mother to look after them. You are the person they had in mind when they thought up this day of honor. Happy Mother's Day.
NukeDad's last blog post..http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Nuclearfamilywarheadcom/~3/287841120/' rel="nofollow">Keith Moon Couldn’t Have Played A Better Drum Solo
Speechless.
New title: God'o'mothers
Marge's last blog post..http://wheremytruthlives.wordpress.com/2008/05/06/in-search-of-the-holy-gail/' rel="nofollow">In Search of the Holy Gail
Your children are very lucky to have you as a mom.
I've read through your letter and you've taught me a lot. I'm taking away some gems about how I should, and will, be a better mom. Thanks for that.
jenty's last blog post..http://jentyrambling.wordpress.com/2008/05/11/weekly-winners-4-may-10-may/' rel="nofollow">Weekly Winners 4 May - 10 May
wow...just wow!
But this further proves your assertion that we might be soulmates. That you can take the good and especially the bad realize that without it, you wouldn't be the person that you are today.
And you ARE an amazing person!
Mindi's last blog post..http://mindicherry.wordpress.com/2008/05/11/mindi-has-two-mommies/' rel="nofollow">Mindi has two mommies
Not like you need my two cents - because you're clearly capable of finding your own way - but here it is, anyway. I wouldn't worry about forgiving. Not that you won't, but I know I beat myself up plenty about not having the strength and fortitude to forgive. Some forgiveness has just happened, once I got out of my own way. I think the people and events that I have yet to forgive will also happen in its due time, too.
Happy Mother's Day, hon!
April's last blog post..http://formerlyaprildawn.blogspot.com/2008/05/happy-mothers-day.html' rel="nofollow">Happy Mother's Day
I don't quite know how to express my admiration. I have lived in communities that were broken by alcohol and abuse and bad role models and it's such a terrible, tragic cycle. I know one woman who somehow found the strength to break it and find a better way to be a mother to her children than what she was taught by her own. Now I know two. You're amazing.
And OT: liking the new look of the blog, btw! All the pics at the top make such a lovely mosaic.
Fawn's last blog post..http://fawnahareo.com/2008/05/09/house-concert/' rel="nofollow">House Concert
A mother shouldn't be that way and I'm utterly amazed that you are such a great mother to your children.
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY My Dear Friend.
Secret Agent Mama's last blog post..http://secretagentmama.com/blog/2008/05/11/weekly-winners-xxv/' rel="nofollow">Weekly Winners XXV
Happy mother's day to you. I think you are terrific.
anne nahm's last blog post..http://annenahm.com/?p=424' rel="nofollow">Bulimia Style Confession - Watch Out For Splatter
Oh babe. Hugs. Hugs and how I wish I could be there right now to plant a huge kiss on you.
You amaze me on a regular basis....
Happy Mother's Day.
Ree's last blog post..http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/hotfessional/KKFw/~3/288210263/' rel="nofollow">Sons
Wow. Really, that is all I can say. You are amazing.
I've lurked on your blog for awhile now, but have never commented. Now I will, for two reasons.
1) While I am not a biological or adoptive parent, I have "parented" a few children at different times in my life, and your post was such a reminder of how easily behavior & words we experienced growing up can suddenly come out of your mouth without even realizing it's happening. I firmly believe that words have the power to wound children far more than hands ever can.
2) I don't want you to think I'm a freak when I add you to the blogroll of my new (work in progress) blog:) It's not a random add...I aspire to write like you.
Happy Mother's Day. I think you must be a fantastic mother.
Right on. You prove that we can all choose who we are as adults. We can choose to be our parents, or not. Hugs.
Dawn's last blog post..http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AlexYearOne/~3/288000999/' rel="nofollow">Mommy uniform - summer edition
I am in awe. You are a wonderful mother. Against all those odds.
Your kids are very lucky.
Happy Mother's Day to YOU.
Karen MEG (pomtini)'s last blog post..http://gliks.blogspot.com/2008/05/weekly-winner-21.html' rel="nofollow">Weekly Winner #21
Holy cripes! you said some of the same things I say to myself because I am to chicken shit to say them to my mom! Thanks for the honesty! Happy Mothers day; you are dong a great job!
Steph's last blog post..http://whalenmom.blogspot.com/2008/05/mothers-day-2008.html' rel="nofollow">Mother's Day 2008
This is a beautiful letter. I am moved. Thank you for sharing this.
(I also LOVE the new look of your blog.) Happy Mother's Day.
Half-Past Kissin' Time's last blog post..http://mrs4444.blogspot.com/2008/05/colorful-massage_11.html' rel="nofollow">The Colorful Massage
Sounds like you're doing one hell of a job as a Mom. Good on ya!
Shannon's last blog post..http://www.livinginthegray.com/2008/05/07/beam-me-up-scotty/' rel="nofollow">beam me up, scotty
very powerful post indeed. and so not easy to write. we don't pick our parents, siblings or even children sometimes. but we can certainly pick the kind of person we want to be with them. i agree, the cycle can be broken. thank you for sharing. i hope it helped you.
you are fabulous.
Shamelessly Sassy's last blog post..http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/shamelesslysassy/oRdr/~3/288398922/' rel="nofollow">Copy Cat
I'm very sad for Pat . . . look what she lost.
But, look at what you have gained.
LaskiGal's last blog post..http://laskigal.blogspot.com/2008/05/being-mom.html' rel="nofollow">Being a Mom
Wow, that's powerful! And you are awesome. Happy Mother's Day!
amy's last blog post..http://amysbratpack.blogspot.com/2008/05/at-least-they-let-me-sleep-in.html' rel="nofollow">At least they let me sleep in
A wise, wise woman and brilliant therapist once taught me that we are drawn to the people in our lives -- the voluntary relationships, mind you -- because there is something inside them, something that draws us to them and allows us to recreate and relive our own childhood patterns over and over. With a little luck, some insight and a lot of self-examination, there are a few of us who break those patterns, because we bring such people into our lives. I now know why you and I have "met", and I'm glad to know there's another lucky one out there in the world.
I just added "My father was an asshole" to the list of posts I'll send you to read from my archives. (That's not actually the title, but that's what I should have named it.)
Deb (Missives From Suburbia)'s last blog post..http://missivesfromsuburbia.blogspot.com/2008/05/good-friends.html' rel="nofollow">Good Friends
Wow what a powerful letter. A lot of people from that past would choose to be bitter and use it as excuse for pity. While you dear one chose to let it guide you to the right way, knowing how much the wrong way can destroy. I'm proud, so very proud of you.
You are an amazing woman and a wonderful mother. I am totally in awe of you - and inspired BY you. And, while you will never forget your mother, I hope you don't always carry her around on your shoulders. You are not her. You never will be. Because, you are beautiful, you are awesome, and you rock.
Amen.
Ashley's last blog post..http://www.bosssanders.com/2008/05/11/my-interesting-run-in-with-a-scam-artist/' rel="nofollow">My interesting run-in with a scam artist.
Wow. You are awesome. And bold and brave and strong and smart and fabulous. You had a choice what to do with the bullshit you were given, and you made a choice to let it shape you into a strong woman, a strong mother where others might choose to be too bitter to take anything good out of something so tragic. You are awesome. And your blog looks cool, too!
Maggie's Mind's last blog post..http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MaggiesMind/~3/287830576/weekly-winners-sunday-51108.html' rel="nofollow">Weekly Winners Sunday 5/11/08
This is so powerful!
Happy Mother's Day to you...
Tootsie Farklepants's last blog post..http://vintagethirty.blogspot.com/2008/05/updating-blogroll-and-thank-you.html' rel="nofollow">Updating the Blogroll and a Thank You
Happy Mother's Day. Enjoy it knowing that you deserve to.
Hi,
It is the biggest dilema of life... you learn from whatever you come across whether you want to keep that in your mind or not.
As, we have started living more educated and choosy life, we migrate from the set learning sequences. But many people migrate from old one cooly, few do with struggle, few never do it. Those who do it cooly become most successful and it goes viceversa.
The same thing prevail here. You do all those things your mother did or your father did. So it is great way to remember this human simplicity.
Congrats.
You ROCK! Mike.
I'm so glad that you can take your experiences with your mother and use them to guide you through raising your own children. So many others would have been broken, but you seem to have found your way and come out stronger. I hope you had a great Mother's Day.
GoMommy's last blog post..http://randomactsofmomness.blogspot.com/2008/05/queen-for-day.html' rel="nofollow">Queen for a Day
I just recently came across your blog and I don't think it was by accident. I don't believe in accidents...I believe that we are brought to things for a reason, even if we don't always understand or know the reasons. I think I was meant to read this not just because I could relate so well but as to be reminded of my choice to learn from the tragedys in my life and use these "lessons" for the good...to make myself "better"...instead of choosing a life of self-pity and bitterness and as a result continue in their footsteps.
I too, have had to work hard every step of the way in parenting, to be different then what I was taught...to unlearn what was given to me. It took me years, but, I have forgiven...not just once but many times...as I get to a new place and realize more of what was done to me and what wasn't and how much I lost but now have gained in these experiences. I have not forgotten and part of me hangs on to the memories because it has been the constant driving force in my life to be the mother to my children that I so badly wanted for myself.
I look at my 5 children(ages 18-27) and see the happy, strong, confident, respectful, loving, kind, giving people that they are and I am amazed by them. I am in awe of the beautiful relationships I have with each of them. This journey of learning myself and giving them all of me has been amazing. When I read your words today I was reminded of all the work I put in to make a different life for my children and how it was so worth it. Who I have become in this process is greatly due to them, my children, but yet, also my parents who taught me lessons in the tragedy of their own lives.
Thank you so much for sharing your life so openly. It really touched me and is what I needed to hear today!
Incredible post. There are not many people who are willing to share this level of detail about their personal lives or their past so openly. Even though your content makes me uncomfortable sometimes (as if I am intruding), I am glad a found your blog.
I hope she reads it. Really.
Matt's last blog post..http://redsparks.com/playpen/2008/05/12/redsparks-baby-gift-giveaway/' rel="nofollow">RedSparks Baby Gift Giveaway
And despite all of that SHIT, you became a marvelous person and mother.
And what did I miss? Where the hell is your layout?
Maria's last blog post..http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ImmoralMatriarch/~3/288734294/' rel="nofollow">I Gave You a Virtual Hug.
Wow