Happy Mother's Day

It's official. I'm getting old.

I try to explain to my mother (who is actually older than me, believe it or not) that there is a great benefit to aging. Well, there are several when you begin to include discount meals and movie tickets... but one of the greatest benefits of aging is that you can finally stop being PC and start speaking your mind.

My mother, however, is a martyr. And I don't mean that in the sarcastic 'let me help you with your cross' kind of way... I mean the woman is a veritable Saint.

I won't even get into her story of triumph under the most dire of circumstances, but suffice it to say that she has been through trauma that would have broken me no less than three times over... and she managed to emerge with some of the most unshakable grace, poise, faith and dignity that I have witnessed in any woman... ever.

And this was all before one of the most challenging phases of her life began; when she became pregnant at the age of 17.

My father was witty and charismatic and I suspect that both of them were wounded and vulnerable. Pressured to marry (as society/family/church would expect them to) my mother was a mother by her Senior year of High School and already struggling to fulfill the demands of a wife as well. It makes my head spin.

She and my father had three more children (all boys. *sigh*) after me and finally divorced when I was 16. (I say 'finally' because my mother truly has the highest threshold for patience that I've ever seen... so if she was at her breaking point, then she must have been putting up with crap for some time.)

My mother was always my silent champion, even when I betrayed her and chose to live with my dad after their divorce. Not only did I choose to live with my father, but I stopped speaking to my mother unless I had to. One fateful day in April... I had to.

I was pregnant.
She was the first person I ran to for help.

What a selfish little punk I was to put her through that kind of grief and expect that she'd drop everything and come to my rescue. But she did. Without question.

She nursed her dying mother, aunt and uncle before moving to Oregon to spend the remaining years with her husband's parents before they passed away. She has always existed in some kind of superhuman realm in which she could internalize her own grief and anger and stoically comfort others.

This isn't to say that she was always soft and cuddly. She showed some tough love to us on more than one occasion and I will admit that there were times when I hated her for it.

She tried to play peacemaker during a period of several years when one of my brothers and I weren't speaking to each other. We finally reconciled, and since then, I suspect my mother has been content that there is peace among the family (even if we don't all get together as often as we really should.)

There are many times when I could have learned from my mother's ability to maintain grace under fire. More than once I have popped off when I shouldn't have or voiced an opinion or rash judgment when it wasn't warranted. That particular virtue hasn't gained me a ton of friends; and I often wonder if God didn't think it would be a funny joke to give me the abundance of 'voice' that my mother sometimes lacked.

This is why I think aging is wonderful. If I tell a kid to 'eff off', his mom gets pissy with me... but if an 80-year-old tells a kid to 'eff off', his mom may actually APOLOGIZE before shuffling Junior out of the way. You see? Absolute freedom to speak your mind!

I've never known my mom to be cynical. She's definitely a glass is 'half-full' kind of person. -As she was today when half of her four kids attended the Mother's Day BBQ - that the poor woman had to put together herself! (With the help of her husband, our step-dad... 'cuz he's just about as awesome as she is.)

I'm a Pisces and an actress, so from time to time I love to wallow in the bitterness and jaded cynicism. I also think it makes for good comedy. Sometimes I write a comedy sketch in my head about slipping my mom a pill that strips her of her poise and inhibitions for an entire day.

I'd just take hours to sit and talk about everything that pisses her off.

She is simultaneously an amazing example and impossible standard to live up to.

She was there every step of the way when I gave birth to my son.
She has been a consistent presence in my life and in the lives of my children.
She has fed me, housed me, clothed me, encouraged me, supported me, and devoted countless hours and unfathomable tears to me.
From crafting sweatshirts for every orphan in 'Annie' to innumerable visits to the ER, manual labor on our landscapes and interiors to babysitting and a fully-stocked (raidable) freezer; I hope that I can someday find the way to express that the little things don't go unnoticed.

And she has never EVER asked for anything in return.

After an afternoon spent with family I'm reminded that these bonds may stretch and contract, but they can never really be broken. If anything, the more I age, the more emphasis I put on those family bonds.
I'm not always great at being able to juggle my attention between being a mother and being a decent daughter to my own mother. I can't even imagine that at my age, my mother had already suffered the loss of her own mother (who she cared for in the last several months of my Nanny's life).


There are many people that say my mother's faith in God is responsible for her amazing character. And I do believe that her faith has had a profound impact on her life. However, I know plenty of people who have been 'reformed and redeemed by the spirit' who are still assholes. So I do believe that there is something unique to my mother that transcends merely being a good or godly woman.

Her strength humbles me.

And she has only given me a very mild ration of shit for not including her in my program bios.

So here it is that I sit... sated and humbled... and once again in awe of the grace and beauty of my mother. And thrilled to grow older with her as one of my dearest friends and greatest mentors.

Happy Mother's Day.