Tomorrow I plan to write all about me and what it's like to be me as a mom. So today I'm focusing on the women who helped me become the mom I hope I am. A good one, I mean.
There are five women who have influenced and continue to influence my life as a mother. They've all been important in my life. One of them brought me into the world, one met me at birth and helped shape me as a child, one met me a little later but loved me instantly and unconditionally, one gave her blessing when I fell in love with her son, and one accepted me into her family as a niece and friend. I'm going to talk about them individually, starting in reverse order of what I just wrote. From each I’ve learned many important aspects of motherhood, and I’m highlighting just a few things here.
ACCEPTANCE
Ike's aunt Jane has become my aunt Jane. When Ike and I first got married, I would catch myself when saying Jane's name. I'd say, "Ike's aunt Jane, I mean." Now when I say "Aunt Jane," I don't stop to say "Ike's." She's become so much a part of my life that bloodlines don't matter.
Jane and her sister (coming up next) are very close, so Ike had Jane's influence in his life from the beginning. I've never known an aunt to give so much of herself to her nephews (and now to me and to my children). She is always thinking of others. I love opening my inbox to find a new email from Jane. Jane, you don't know this, but I save most of your emails in a folder called "Letters From Jane." In so many emails, you put just a little bit of family history that I don't want to forget. You have such a gentle heart, and yet, I'm not at all saying that you're weak. Let one person hurt a member of your family, and you are fierce. I feel protected and accepted because I know you extend that protectiveness to me. Thank you. I love you.
FAMILY TIES
I've made the joke before that the first time I met Mary Lou, she checked out my hips to make sure they were wide enough for me to have kids (they are, obviously. No problem there!). Of course that's not really what happened. But from the first time I met my mother-in-law, I could tell how important family is to her. She loves her children and husband unconditionally and without fail. She's strong, with the toughness that I think the mothers of boys have to develop, and she can handle what comes her way. But she's also sensitive and loving. I can always count on it: if my eyes are filled with tears, Mary Lou's are too. She has more patience than I think I'll ever have. Patience with Jake when he's a wild boy. Patience with Annie when she fusses and doesn't want her bottle. Patience with Ike when he insists on approving the Thanksgiving menu.
I feel so lucky when I talk to friends who don't get along with their husbands' mothers. Mary Lou is more than an "in-law." There's really no word for how I feel about her. She's not my mother, but "mother-in-law" isn't the right word either. You know how hobbits have "second breakfast?" We'll call Mary Lou my "second mom." Thank you, Mary Lou, for loving me and for helping me through raising two small children. I love you.
FAITH
When I was eight years old, I met my Grandmother. How many times have I sat down to write about her? It's difficult. Grandmother passed away on March 30, 2004. I miss her terribly. It's not much, what I'll write here, but I hope she knows how much she still means to me.
I'm just about sure that Grandmother wasn't perfect, but she never showed her imperfections to me. If anyone in this life truly lived with, "What would Jesus do?" as a motto, it was my grandmother. Her faith was so strong that to know her was to know that God is real. Grandmother loved to tell stories about when my mom (and I) and Dad first met. About how he wrote home and said, "...you were praying real hard that I would meet a nice girl....I think it worked. But maybe you overshot the mark a bit. There are two of 'em!" (Meaning Mom and me, of course.) About how the first time I met her, I said, "What should I call you?" And when she asked what I wanted to call her, I said "I'll call you Grandmother." About how I introduced her and Granddaddy to McDonalds. In a letter she sent me in October of 2002, she wrote, "1983 was a very good year for us. We found you."
When I feel overwhelmed by motherhood, I like to look at a picture of Grandmother that I have in my living room. I feel like she gives me strength through the love she showed me instantly.
Grandmother collected butterflies, so her house was filled with butterfly pins and pictures and what-nots. Now I tell Jake an ongoing story of "Clarabel, the Magic Butterfly." Clarabel plays with children who are very happy and cheers up children who are very sad. I like to think that Grandmother is listening to those stories every now and then. Thank you, Grandmother. I love you and miss you.
STRENGTH
I joke to people about my grandma being mean and always spanking me. Well, it's true that I think she's the only person who ever spanked me. And I believe she thinks she's mean. I know, however, that my mom's mother is the strongest, toughest woman I've ever met. Her love for her family is so powerful that she has dealt with hardships most of us can't even imagine...and she's come out on the other side of those hardships a better person. Grandma raised nine children, often on her own. She's been married a few times, and yeah, I joke about that, too. But not today. Today I'll tell the truth. My grandma had one true love, and her heart has been faithful to him since the day they married.
How can I describe Grandma? If you haven't met her, you certainly haven't met anyone like her. When I was three, Mom and I lived with her for awhile. No, I can't say I remember a lot about being three. But I can remember these things as I grew up: the smell of bacon in the mornings and the sound of her unique whispery voice. Her store where I used to "help" her and where I'd spend hours playing. Her quilting loom on the ceiling. The way she's always bragged about me being a good kid, even when I wasn't. How fiercely she protected me from being hurt by a father who wasn't mature enough to understand his influence. How happy she was for the few years she shared with Ervin Newman. How strong she seemed to me at his funeral. How brave she was at her 70th birthday party (held at the church where she'll be buried), where she joked about the congregation not accepting her (because of her divorces), but how they can't keep her out of the graveyard. How loving she was when she played with Jake when he was younger and when she held Annie for the first time. How talented she is with her quilt-making, her sewing, her cooking...and how she takes all those things for granted. How proud she looked at her 80th birthday party when her entire family stood around her. And how opinionated she is...and how unafraid to state those opinions, too.
My grandma is not the sterotypical "let's make cookies together" grandma. But I hope I have her strength. And I know I have her love. Thank you, Grandma. I love you.
SELF-BELIEF
Almost everyone knows this, except maybe the woman whom I should tell. My mom, Mary Holloway Jones, is my hero. This has always been true, even when I was a little girl. My mom has overcome incredible obstacles to get to where she is now. Not only that, but you never hear my mom complain about a tough childhood or about raising a child alone for five (and in reality, the first eight) years when she was practically a child herself. If you meet my mom today, and this is one of the most amazing things to me about her, you have no idea of the troubles she's seen. I know it sounds cliche, and I'm not trying to quote the song, but it's true. While I feel like I complain about the smallest things, my mother is a hero to me because she is...strong and brave. Jake has a video in which a character says, "A hero is someone who is afraid, but runs toward what he fears instead of away." Now, while in the case of the video it seems rather foolhardy to run toward a fire-breathing dragon, in real life this makes sense to me. My mom had so many obstacles stacked against her as a single mom at age 20. She didn't have a driver's license or her high school diploma, let alone a college degree. But she didn't give up on the world. She faced her future--and mine--and made our lives better. Today she is a well-respected professional, with two daughters who love her, a husband who adores her, and one grandchild who thinks she’s very cool (and one who isn’t old enough to think that yet, but will).
I’ve always been proud of my mother. I can remember being in elementary school and having my mom come to school (it seems like this was a day when parents were visiting for lunch). I remember all my friends thinking my mom was so cool and so pretty, and I remember thinking that, yes, my mom is cool and pretty. And she’s mine. I can remember asking Mom some pretty serious questions at a young age, and now that I’m a parent, I’m so impressed by her answers. She treated me, not as an adult, but as a child who could handle the truth. She instilled in me the belief that I was intelligent and capable, and I think her influence is what has gotten me to where I am today.
I don’t just think that, I know it. Mothers are huge influences on their daughters, of course, and those influences are usually both positive and negative. I honestly can’t think of a single way my mother influenced me negatively. She gave so much of herself to me, and yet at the same time I think she managed to keep her own identity as a person. I never thought of her as “Just Mom,” but always knew her to be a complete person. She had goals and dreams, and she worked to achieve those things. I can only hope that my children will remember me the same way.
Mom, I can’t write it well enough. You know I love to write, and I could spend hours at this computer trying to find the right word. But you also know how I procrastinate, and I’m afraid that if I don’t post this soon, it won’t get done before Mother’s Day. I just want to make sure you know that you are my hero. If I can be half as good as a mother as you were and continue to be, I will be satisfied that I’ve done well.
Thank you for believing in yourself. Thank you for teaching me to believe in myself. Thank you for your honesty. Thank you for your trust. Thank you for being my mother. I love you.
THE FUTURE
I think that Mother’s Day has impacted me more this year because of the birth of my daughter. Maybe it has been this way for Ike on Father’s Day since Jake was born. I find myself wondering if someday she will also celebrate Mother’s Day with her own children. I find myself wondering if she’ll look back on her childhood at home fondly. I find myself hoping and praying that she’ll someday think of me as a positive influence in her growth and development. Perhaps someday I’ll even be a hero.
Happy Mother’s Day to all.
There are five women who have influenced and continue to influence my life as a mother. They've all been important in my life. One of them brought me into the world, one met me at birth and helped shape me as a child, one met me a little later but loved me instantly and unconditionally, one gave her blessing when I fell in love with her son, and one accepted me into her family as a niece and friend. I'm going to talk about them individually, starting in reverse order of what I just wrote. From each I’ve learned many important aspects of motherhood, and I’m highlighting just a few things here.
ACCEPTANCE
Ike's aunt Jane has become my aunt Jane. When Ike and I first got married, I would catch myself when saying Jane's name. I'd say, "Ike's aunt Jane, I mean." Now when I say "Aunt Jane," I don't stop to say "Ike's." She's become so much a part of my life that bloodlines don't matter.
Jane and her sister (coming up next) are very close, so Ike had Jane's influence in his life from the beginning. I've never known an aunt to give so much of herself to her nephews (and now to me and to my children). She is always thinking of others. I love opening my inbox to find a new email from Jane. Jane, you don't know this, but I save most of your emails in a folder called "Letters From Jane." In so many emails, you put just a little bit of family history that I don't want to forget. You have such a gentle heart, and yet, I'm not at all saying that you're weak. Let one person hurt a member of your family, and you are fierce. I feel protected and accepted because I know you extend that protectiveness to me. Thank you. I love you.
FAMILY TIES
I've made the joke before that the first time I met Mary Lou, she checked out my hips to make sure they were wide enough for me to have kids (they are, obviously. No problem there!). Of course that's not really what happened. But from the first time I met my mother-in-law, I could tell how important family is to her. She loves her children and husband unconditionally and without fail. She's strong, with the toughness that I think the mothers of boys have to develop, and she can handle what comes her way. But she's also sensitive and loving. I can always count on it: if my eyes are filled with tears, Mary Lou's are too. She has more patience than I think I'll ever have. Patience with Jake when he's a wild boy. Patience with Annie when she fusses and doesn't want her bottle. Patience with Ike when he insists on approving the Thanksgiving menu.
I feel so lucky when I talk to friends who don't get along with their husbands' mothers. Mary Lou is more than an "in-law." There's really no word for how I feel about her. She's not my mother, but "mother-in-law" isn't the right word either. You know how hobbits have "second breakfast?" We'll call Mary Lou my "second mom." Thank you, Mary Lou, for loving me and for helping me through raising two small children. I love you.
FAITH
When I was eight years old, I met my Grandmother. How many times have I sat down to write about her? It's difficult. Grandmother passed away on March 30, 2004. I miss her terribly. It's not much, what I'll write here, but I hope she knows how much she still means to me.
I'm just about sure that Grandmother wasn't perfect, but she never showed her imperfections to me. If anyone in this life truly lived with, "What would Jesus do?" as a motto, it was my grandmother. Her faith was so strong that to know her was to know that God is real. Grandmother loved to tell stories about when my mom (and I) and Dad first met. About how he wrote home and said, "...you were praying real hard that I would meet a nice girl....I think it worked. But maybe you overshot the mark a bit. There are two of 'em!" (Meaning Mom and me, of course.) About how the first time I met her, I said, "What should I call you?" And when she asked what I wanted to call her, I said "I'll call you Grandmother." About how I introduced her and Granddaddy to McDonalds. In a letter she sent me in October of 2002, she wrote, "1983 was a very good year for us. We found you."
When I feel overwhelmed by motherhood, I like to look at a picture of Grandmother that I have in my living room. I feel like she gives me strength through the love she showed me instantly.
Grandmother collected butterflies, so her house was filled with butterfly pins and pictures and what-nots. Now I tell Jake an ongoing story of "Clarabel, the Magic Butterfly." Clarabel plays with children who are very happy and cheers up children who are very sad. I like to think that Grandmother is listening to those stories every now and then. Thank you, Grandmother. I love you and miss you.
STRENGTH
I joke to people about my grandma being mean and always spanking me. Well, it's true that I think she's the only person who ever spanked me. And I believe she thinks she's mean. I know, however, that my mom's mother is the strongest, toughest woman I've ever met. Her love for her family is so powerful that she has dealt with hardships most of us can't even imagine...and she's come out on the other side of those hardships a better person. Grandma raised nine children, often on her own. She's been married a few times, and yeah, I joke about that, too. But not today. Today I'll tell the truth. My grandma had one true love, and her heart has been faithful to him since the day they married.
How can I describe Grandma? If you haven't met her, you certainly haven't met anyone like her. When I was three, Mom and I lived with her for awhile. No, I can't say I remember a lot about being three. But I can remember these things as I grew up: the smell of bacon in the mornings and the sound of her unique whispery voice. Her store where I used to "help" her and where I'd spend hours playing. Her quilting loom on the ceiling. The way she's always bragged about me being a good kid, even when I wasn't. How fiercely she protected me from being hurt by a father who wasn't mature enough to understand his influence. How happy she was for the few years she shared with Ervin Newman. How strong she seemed to me at his funeral. How brave she was at her 70th birthday party (held at the church where she'll be buried), where she joked about the congregation not accepting her (because of her divorces), but how they can't keep her out of the graveyard. How loving she was when she played with Jake when he was younger and when she held Annie for the first time. How talented she is with her quilt-making, her sewing, her cooking...and how she takes all those things for granted. How proud she looked at her 80th birthday party when her entire family stood around her. And how opinionated she is...and how unafraid to state those opinions, too.
My grandma is not the sterotypical "let's make cookies together" grandma. But I hope I have her strength. And I know I have her love. Thank you, Grandma. I love you.
SELF-BELIEF
Almost everyone knows this, except maybe the woman whom I should tell. My mom, Mary Holloway Jones, is my hero. This has always been true, even when I was a little girl. My mom has overcome incredible obstacles to get to where she is now. Not only that, but you never hear my mom complain about a tough childhood or about raising a child alone for five (and in reality, the first eight) years when she was practically a child herself. If you meet my mom today, and this is one of the most amazing things to me about her, you have no idea of the troubles she's seen. I know it sounds cliche, and I'm not trying to quote the song, but it's true. While I feel like I complain about the smallest things, my mother is a hero to me because she is...strong and brave. Jake has a video in which a character says, "A hero is someone who is afraid, but runs toward what he fears instead of away." Now, while in the case of the video it seems rather foolhardy to run toward a fire-breathing dragon, in real life this makes sense to me. My mom had so many obstacles stacked against her as a single mom at age 20. She didn't have a driver's license or her high school diploma, let alone a college degree. But she didn't give up on the world. She faced her future--and mine--and made our lives better. Today she is a well-respected professional, with two daughters who love her, a husband who adores her, and one grandchild who thinks she’s very cool (and one who isn’t old enough to think that yet, but will).
I’ve always been proud of my mother. I can remember being in elementary school and having my mom come to school (it seems like this was a day when parents were visiting for lunch). I remember all my friends thinking my mom was so cool and so pretty, and I remember thinking that, yes, my mom is cool and pretty. And she’s mine. I can remember asking Mom some pretty serious questions at a young age, and now that I’m a parent, I’m so impressed by her answers. She treated me, not as an adult, but as a child who could handle the truth. She instilled in me the belief that I was intelligent and capable, and I think her influence is what has gotten me to where I am today.
I don’t just think that, I know it. Mothers are huge influences on their daughters, of course, and those influences are usually both positive and negative. I honestly can’t think of a single way my mother influenced me negatively. She gave so much of herself to me, and yet at the same time I think she managed to keep her own identity as a person. I never thought of her as “Just Mom,” but always knew her to be a complete person. She had goals and dreams, and she worked to achieve those things. I can only hope that my children will remember me the same way.
Mom, I can’t write it well enough. You know I love to write, and I could spend hours at this computer trying to find the right word. But you also know how I procrastinate, and I’m afraid that if I don’t post this soon, it won’t get done before Mother’s Day. I just want to make sure you know that you are my hero. If I can be half as good as a mother as you were and continue to be, I will be satisfied that I’ve done well.
Thank you for believing in yourself. Thank you for teaching me to believe in myself. Thank you for your honesty. Thank you for your trust. Thank you for being my mother. I love you.
THE FUTURE
I think that Mother’s Day has impacted me more this year because of the birth of my daughter. Maybe it has been this way for Ike on Father’s Day since Jake was born. I find myself wondering if someday she will also celebrate Mother’s Day with her own children. I find myself wondering if she’ll look back on her childhood at home fondly. I find myself hoping and praying that she’ll someday think of me as a positive influence in her growth and development. Perhaps someday I’ll even be a hero.
Happy Mother’s Day to all.
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