I tried to buy a paper tonight. Stem cell breakthrough – all over the press.
But Bangladesh wins, folks. 3,100 dead. That’s two thousand more people than I know. My heart hurts.
We’re always still people. They’re still people. I want to wrap my arms around them and tell them — really — that I’m glad it was them and not me. Not my children. I offer my home to them – as long as my kids aren’t there.
You and yours are welcome to my home; just don’t ever make me fear tomorrow the way you do.
I suck. I know it. Spoiled brat. I’m a complete wuss these days. I was much more feisty before I loved children.
But I’m so glad my boys are home and in their beds, hating me because I slacked on the recent fundraiser, so they’ll never get enough points to win those goofball magnets. The whatever they were gonna win. Youngest shouted at me tonight that “It’s always your fault, Mom!’.
Fine. My fault. Perfectly happy to take the heat, as long as my boys are strong and well. My fault. I didn’t buy the wrapping paper. I didn’t give you a YouTube account. BAD MOM – you can hate me all you want. No cyclones. No wildfires. No scary men breaking into my home like they did to Kathy, to Ruby – I’ll never get over that.
No 3100 dead neighbors. No wrecked homes – no wrecked lives.
Always Mom’s fault, because the big choices always go to Mom. That’s why y’all get to keep blaming us, so many years later. Big choices are Mom’s – with Dad right behind, wearing the white hat. But we all remember Kathy opened the door – what is her husband’s name? He was a successful musician. Popular around here. Well liked.
I think it was Bryan. I don’t remember.
Ruby and Stella – we will never forget their faces.
Cruel as I may be, Mom is the one who holds, who hangs on. Mom is Kathy Harvey (God rest you, girl.). Mom is the one who stays, and tries, and holds.
I think of these things when my children scream at me and tell me I’m bad. Dad bought him the bow-and-arrow; Mom made him finish his homework before we went to Grandmas’.
I repair my heart by knowing that one day, they’ll see it. My choices. Maybe they’ll see that I made the best choice. Maybe they’ll just blame me.
But at least that gives them someone else to blame.
Hope so.
November 21, 2007 at 8:37 pm
Man does this hit home. I’m going through a phase with my 4.5 year old where ‘IM MEAN’ because he can’t get his way. Thank you for the relevant reminder. Great post! I loved your honesty.
November 21, 2007 at 9:28 pm
Only in my 20s did I see my parents as adults, and when I did the amount of love I had for my mum was incredible, and the total lack of respect for my father was also pretty stunning. Why? For the exact reasons you state. Mum sacrificed for us, stood up for us, but didn’t get the glory. Made the tough decisions, brought us up to be good, honest people who are completely unafraid in life. We didn’t appreciate it then, but boy do we love her now. So stick with it. I’d say you’re going the right way. x
November 23, 2007 at 2:42 pm
I watch you with your boys, I see the love between you and the light in your eyes. I observe as you tenderly nurse their wounds, answer their unending questions (much like the perpetual questions that you used to ask of me), sooth their fears and patiently respond to their fits of anger and frustration.
Why is it that children tend to blame mom especially when their don’t want to take personal responsibility for their own actions? Perhpas that it’s because they know that mom will love them no matter what.
As you and I know, mom’s aren’t perfect, we make mistakes, we do and say things that our children remember and blame us for.
I suspect this is because moms and childrens have hopes and expectations for one another that sometimes go unment.
Evenso, I believe (and you are the living testiment)that through it all mom’s love their children above all else.
I am forever grateful that you are my beautiful and talented daughter. Happy Thanksgiving my dear.
November 27, 2007 at 10:49 pm
Boys want their moms even when they are dying on the battle field. They may be mad at you today but you are the standard by which they will judge all other women tomorrow.
Stay strong.
November 28, 2007 at 12:02 am
Eeep – such responsibiliy.
Blessed1 – don’t listen to the naysayers – it gets BETTER (and worse). It’s always amazing.
Badgerdaddy – You’re completely right about this – my Mother knows where her children are every day, and the youngest passed 30. Mom knows, because Mom must know. But at least in my family, we throw a bone to Dad every now and again. Mom wins the ‘Who, What, Where’ contest, but at least in our family, Dad knows the end result.
Mom – Dammit! If there was ever someone who could make me cry across the blogoshere, it would be you! You always have to teach me something, don’t you? (In case my natural smart-assed voice didn’t come across, I was teasing. Don’t make me move furniture in penance!!)
I love you, too, Mom. It’s another touch, that you watch me raise my own children. I’m sure you have a smirk in there, somewhere.
Especially when they say, “No!” They’re all three afraid of the consequences of saying ‘no’ to Grandma. They’re afraid you’ll cut their hair…
Misty – I can’t conceive that. My boys are all the type to fight – which grieves me mightily. I keep praying this mess will be finished before 2014 – which is when Eldest Son can enlist. I SO don’t want to be that Mom. I won’t handle it well.
My boys want to be warriors. I want them to be accountants.