We Are Our Mother's Daughters

Mother's Day 2012

   For about a year now, Mother's Day has become my new favorite holiday to celebrate.  The first time I got to celebrate it in 2007 was kind of neat, but strange.  I had only been a mom for about 10 months and it was kind of silly to think that I was old enough to even get a Mother's Day card.  Then the years went on, and faithfully each May, I was showered with emails to wish me a happy day from friends and one year I even received a pretzel necklace from my husband who rushed out to get it for me that same morning.  (He has since improved his game).  I dutifully called my Mom and Mother-in-Law each year, sent the obligatory card, and followed up with my brother to make sure that at least one of us got it covered.  I never expected much on that day, but with each year that passed, Mother's Day began to take on a new meaning...and finally in 2011, I started to get it.
   That was the year that everything changed.  By that time, I had spent over a year by myself with the girls in a new house in a new town, creating a home after moving from our previous residence of 5 years. The girls had adjusted well to life with just Mom around, while Daddy appeared for a few days every other week.  They had challenged me more than I'd ever been before - and I'm not talking logistically (10+ hour solo plane flight with a 2 year old and a 7 month old), physically (carrying loads of groceries into the house....and 2 sleeping kids), or mentally (trying to figure out how I would best arrange my schedule to find time to study while they were sleeping or not paying attention).  Being alone with these girls had brought the absolute worst in me - I'd lost my patience way more and more frequently than I ever thought I would, I'd said things I promised I'd never say, and I'd behave more like a child than they were themselves.  I'd broken all the rules that I'd made up the day that I brought Kaylee home from the hospital: I'd never let my kids see me cry, I'd never fight with their Dad in their presence, I'd never ignore them when they really needed me.  I also never kept the promises I'd made when I moved with them: I'd feed them home-cooked meals whenever I could, I'd read them bedtime stories each night, I'd take the blame for anything that ever went wrong.
   What I realized - very quickly, by the way - was that I was far from perfect when it came to Mommyhood.  I alternated Chick-fil-a and McDonald's on a very regular basis, I put them in front of the TV every day as soon as we got home, and I most definitely shed a tear each and every time I would find myself doing an "Andy job" - be it fixing something or cleaning up cat throw-up.  I learned that I was irrational when stressed and that I had very little control of my behavior when I became overwhelmed.  I learned that I was driven by a false set of expectations that I had put on myself and realized as soon as I started placing the blame on my kids or husband that I was very wrong and that I needed to take a step back.  I had a lot to learn.
   During my time raising these two girls that year, I also can say the best probably came out of me as well.  Over the course of 18 months or so, I learned a new side of me that never existed.  I learned how to recognize my triggers, how to control my emotions, and what reasonable things to expect from myself and from my children.  I learned how to ask for help and how to build relationships with those who would continue to be there for me in my journey with motherhood.  I learned how to put my phone and computer away and instead spend quality time at the park with my children, and how much those 15 minutes would pay off in their attitude and temperament for the rest of the evening.  I learned all the lyrics to nursery rhyme songs and memorized the words to their favorite books so I could flip the pages without blocking their view.  I learned how to react to their emotional signals of tiredness or hunger instead of relying on my watch.  I learned how to read their need of a hug or a kiss when they were missing their Dad and were starting to act out in aggressive ways.  I learned that there is a difference in being a mother, and knowing how to be a mother.  And thus, the work began.
   Last year I realized that Mother's Day is the only day that I can celebrate because I damn well earned it. I DID something to deserve this day, unlike birthdays or Christmas when I just get presents by just being alive another year and being Christian.  I realized being a Mom means that your kid reaps all the benefits of your good hard work, while you get blamed for all your kids' poor choices....for the rest of their lives.  So if for one day a year you get to celebrate a big "Thank You" - then I'll take it.
   So this brings me to why I'm writing this long-winded post - to celebrate someone in my life who I never really properly thanked: my own Mother.  Like me, my mom was far from perfect.  I'm sure she also had similar goals as I did, and she broke a lot of them, too.  We had screaming matches with each other, she said some things I'm sure she didn't mean, and she certainly cried in front of me, too.  The funny thing is, while I was growing up, I stayed angry with her for those things.  I didn't excuse her, and I didn't find it acceptable that she was behaving younger than I was.  I didn't understand why it was so hard for her to say sorry, or why she would be angry for something that I did that really wasn't a big deal.  I would get annoyed at her for blaming me for her lack of sleep when she chose to stay up all night waiting for me to come home after a party, and I became more and more irritated at her irrational fears and found it insulting that she wouldn't trust me to choose my own friends.
   And here I am, 30 years into this life of mine, and each time I make a mistake I beg my children to forgive me for yelling, ignoring, or being mean to them because "Mommy's tired", or "Mommy's busy" or "Mommy's doing 'grown-up' work".  And I convince myself that they get it, and that they understand everything I'm going through and will excuse my poor choice of behavior, and that it won't affect them in a few years.  Slowly, gradually....I start to see it, the similarities that strike between me and my own mother, and I begin to see her differently - honestly, for the first time ever - as the Mother and person she really is.
   My Mom made the move from Korea to the States when she was (I think) 26.  I moved from Germany to the States when I was 28.  The difference is that I was coming back to where I was from, spoke the language, and I did it with more than $2000 in my pocket.  Before kids, my Mom earned a living by being a waitress while my Dad flipped burgers and they lived together in a trailer.  Before kids, I earned a living being paid to go to school while my kids' Dad did the same and we lived together as home owners of a cute little garden home at 23.  My Mom worked multiple jobs to fund my desires to continue on with gymnastics when I started competing.  I don't have an income and use my husband's to sign my kids up for gymnastics, dance, swimming, and soccer.  My Mom would take me to McDonald's on the way to the hospital to visit my Dad and not eat because she said she already ate at work.  I take my kids to McDonald's when I'm lazy and don't feel like cooking, and I eat a meal myself and sometimes with dessert.  My Mom would stay up all night before Halloween to sew my brother's and my costumes together, and do the same over Christmas to bake cookies for our teachers.  I would stay up all night finishing my favorite show because my kids' costumes were coming from eBay and their teachers got cookies from Safeway.  I cried when the toilet flush broke and Andy wasn't coming home for another 2 weeks.  My Mom cried because there was a flood in our basement and my Dad was never coming home.  I suffered from saying good-bye to my husband (who still visited) for the time he was away at grad school.  My Mom suffered from saying good-bye to her husband as she was burying him.  I was a single Mom for 18 months with 2 kids that weren't even school-aged.  My Mom has been a single Mom technically for 17 years with 2 teenagers (but 33 years theoretically since my brother was born).  I get my feelings hurt when my daughter tells me that she doesn't want to be my friend anymore.  I'm sure my mom got her feelings hurt when I blamed her for all the things that went wrong in my life.  There's just no comparison.

Megan's first birthday, 2010

My first birthday, 1983

   I always knew I wanted to be a mother one day - but I always thought I would raise boys.  It never crossed my mind that it would even be possible to have a girl.  As for having two of them?  I didn't think God would be so cruel.  My mother and I had this relationship that I thought automatically would send a message to the angels above who would immediately alert the Guy that it just wouldn't be a good idea.  But that's just how funny life can be.  I don't know if I would be the Mother I am and hope to be if I didn't have my girls.  If I'd had boys, I'd probably still blame my Mom because my situation would be "different."
   But looking at the facts - while things are vastly different (easier in my favor), they are very much the same.  Having and raising my daughters has forced me to really evaluate my own relationship with my mom.  As if having one wasn't enough, I'm given two opportunities to look at my choices when I am given a challenge and I realize that my mother would have done the same thing.  I realize my Mom wasn't late picking me up from dance because she was ignoring me - she was running errands or getting last-minute things done at work.  I realize my Mom wasn't purposefully missing my games or track meets - she had meetings to tend to and a job to do.  I realize my Mom wasn't unaware of my unhappiness - she was trying her best to let me fill in the voids with my own choices by giving me my space.
   In the end, we ladies are all our mother's daughters.  And my daughters are their mother's daughters. That's just the way it is.  At first I thought I was being punished for being a bad daughter by having a girl myself - twice.  But as time goes on, I realize all this is truly just a simple blessing.  There is nothing more a Mother wants than to see her children grow up happy and healthy.  And I think most Moms will agree that they don't expect their kids to "get" the sacrifices made to bring that happiness, but we can all hope that one day, they will.
   I won't be holding my breath anytime soon for my own children, but I can certainly say that I have a lot to be thankful for towards my Mom.  I get it, and I'm sorry it took so long, but I get it now.  But that doesn't free her from her Mom-duties.  I'm gonna need a lot of help in about 10 years when I've got 2 teenagers to deal with.