A Mother With a Soul

I woke up very early this morning and decided to get up in order to work on a very definite project. Unfortunately, as is often my experience, accomplishing certain things on the computer is like walking on scorching coals through the deepest chambers of hell. It didn’t take long for me to abort my intended project and pick up a book. At least I am confident in my ability to turn a page without outside intervention. Today’s selection was “Chicken Soup for the Soul; Like Mother, Like Daughter”. I sometimes wonder whether the mission of the Launch Lady makes her appear to be devoid of a soul. If there is any correlation between a soul and leaking eyes then I do, indeed, have one.

What an amazing way to start the day. I read about six stories and was touched by each and every one. My emotions ran the gamut from “I remember how hard I tried to be like THAT mom” to “Someday, maybe even soon, MY little girls might become moms”. I became a mom nearly 25 years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the scariest thing in the world to assume the responsibility for this brand new little “creature” whose total dependence was almost entirely entrusted to me. My firstborn was everything I could have hoped for. She was beautiful, smart, loving and she accomplished all of the milestones with textbook precision.   After a couple years, I was feeling remotely successful and maybe a little cocky. I thought, “maybe I should do this again, but only once because I only have two hands”! My second bundle of joy was just as awesome as the first but I was much more relaxed in the way I handled her. I remember sitting her infant self on the table at a dinner with extended family. Each time someone spoke, I would pivot her body in their direction so she could listen to them speak. She was my obliging little puppet. She was very different from her sister in every possible way. While number one was sleeping from 8pm to 6am at age one, number two woke me up every night for ten years. While she was my infant puppet, I was her decade long jack-in-the-box; popping out of bed each time she cried for me at night or showed up at my bedside!

One of the most important things for me was to make sure that they grew up to be independent.   In doing so, I hope that they were given the proper balance of love and responsibility. I’m not really sure how I did but thankfully, there are two of them so they can laugh with each other about all of the different ways I tried to achieve compliance from them. Everyone knows that the darn “things” don’t come with manuals. Once you think you have found the perfect blueprint for successful parenting, the next child comes along and shatters that confidence.

Regardless of what I did, they have both proven, in very different ways, that I can count on them to be independent. Conversely, I know that I have given them the love that they need. There are many faces of love. Sometimes love is giving and sometimes love is teaching. Often, showing love involves using the word “No”. What I know for sure is that I am best at giving the kind that encourages them to spread their wings and fly.  Number two was married last month and number one will be married soon enough. Every time I see them achieving a “grown up” milestone, my heart swells with pride and overflows with love. Too often these days, like when reading poignant stories about mothers and daughters, my eyes begin to overflow as well. Every sentimental exchange is prefaced with “Mom, you’re not going to cry, are you?” No, my dear girls, I will try to keep my vision from clouding so I can savor every moment of watching you experience the very same things that you etched into my heart and soul as priceless memories!