Mom’s birthday is around this time. To protect her identity…scrap that. To soothe my paranoid phantoms, I’m posting this not on her actual birthday…or am I?
I’ve got issues and back issues but moving on…
Always the observer, lately I’ve come to the notion that I have the perfect mother. I don’t mean that my mom’s perfect, but that she’s the perfect mom for me. I know a few great mothers out there whom are everything anyone might want in a mother, but I most likely would have been lost if I had been born to them. Does that make sense?
Mom’s never really been the kind that has the spotless house with fresh baked cookies ready when we kids got home. But what she has, I wouldn’t trade for cookies. Let me see if I can illustrate….
I think of it as my mom having the right balance of tenderness and firmness to raise me specifically. I don’t think my parents ever worried so much about my brother ‘cause he was the kind of child parents probably want; extremely intelligent with a good sense of sociability, respectful and obedient, a determined finisher my brother is.
I was/am the strong-willed child.
Wanna know why my mom never had the clean house? Or the cookies? Look upon me! If you ask her, she won’t deny it either. She’ll tell you that she had a time raising me. She’s already asking that I have a daughter of my own, exactly in my image, or worse! [Yeah, no one’s gonna wanna marry me now! ;) ]
Mom never shrunk from her duties as co-disciplinarian of me which did help me to come into control of myself as I grew up. At the same time, I always knew she loved me. Anytime I had my black-hole days, which probably scares her to no end, she willingly let go of the discipline line and was just with me. I rarely let even her know when I’m in the black-hole, but she witnessed a few by timing and did exactly what I needed her to do.
And we laugh. A lot. AT EACH OTHER! Especially now. Here’s a kinda recent thing; I’ve been growing out my hair for something and it annoys me at times so I often do anything to put it up and off my shoulders. I had it in a weird configuration at home one day. Mom looked at me and just started laughing. I mean, roaring! My reply; “What are you laughing at? You made me!” Her reaction to my reply, MORE LAUGHING!
And, I absolutely adore her. She is a great voice of encouragement for me. Nobody has to tell me that I’ve got a gem of a mother, but I hear it all the time. I get such a sense of pride when I hear it.
Happy birthday Mom! And MAHALO.
Perfect Brother, Perfect Mother, and the Strong-Willed Child.