She never wanted to be a doctor.
Besides the fact that she was squeamish when it came to blood, there was no way their family would be able to afford medical school. That was meant for her best friend, who came from a family that had money lying around for luxuries like ski trips and lunchmeat.
She never wanted to be a teacher, either. She knew that if she was a teacher, she’d have to say hello and goodbye to a whole new set of children each year, children who she would love as her own. And her heart couldn’t take that.
No, ever since the girl stood shyly in front of a presumptive grown-up, a neighbor or teacher who foolishly thought she might have an ambitious dream that could somehow come true as he or she asked almost mockingly, “What do you want to be when you grow up?,” she always had the same answer.
A mother.
It didn’t take money to be a mother, it just took love, and she had plenty of that to give. She knew she could spend hours sitting in a stream looking for “tones”, racing cars on tracks and hours with a three year-old girl on her knee, reading books about cats in hats and bears that went searching for a spooky old tree in the woods. That was love.
It didn’t take a degree to be a mother, it just took patience, and she had plenty of that to give. She knew she could stay calm when her son dropped a rock through the sink changing the turtle’s water. (Maybe she should have been a plumber). That was patience.
She knew she’d spend every waking moment of her life giving her kids everything she had.
As many books as they could read, even it meant she wore the same faded sun dress to birthday parties year after year. At least it came in two colors.
Notes in lunch sacks, “I love you”s and “XOXOXO” scrawled on paper napkins every day, no matter how much they said it embarrassed them.
New Adidas shoes in just the right style and color every season, even if it meant she had to go into the national debt for just the right “style” from American Eagle…again.
Sing-a-longs in the car to Monty Python with all of the neighborhood
A pair of arms to find comfort in after their first broken heart or after sitting out half of cross country season out due to a broken foot. Maybe the shoes weren’t worth the money.
And in giving her children everything she had, the girl would be able to give her children and herself something she’d never had. Stability. Love. Unconditional acceptance.
She knew that after her kids were grown and just out of her reach, instead of diplomas on her walls she’d have framed watercolor rainbows and photographs of ballerinas. Instead of her fingers or wrists dripping with gold, they’d hold a Hello Kitty BandAid leftover from that weekend’s game of “doctor” and a piece of ribbon that was supposed to be a bracelet, gifted from her granddaughter.
She’d look at that little girl in front of her, believing she would have an ambitious dream that would absolutely come true and ask her quite lovingly, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” And the little girl would always give the same answer.
A princess.
 |
Naturally. But whether her daughter’s daughters became doctors, teachers, locksmiths or princesses, she couldn’t help but feel that somehow she had a little to do with that. And she’d be wrong.
She’ll have everything to do with that. Because she was...mom.
Happy Mother’s Day to my own beautiful mom and all the other amazing moms out there!
No comments:
Post a Comment