Today’s blog
Lynn Murphy Mark
Once a mother…
I have lived over half my life without my mother’s physical presence on this earth. She died when I was 32 and I am now 73. She died before I became a mother myself. We never had time to bond as companions in the art of raising children. We never had the opportunity for her to give me any of her wisdom about how to groom independent and productive people – two qualities that she somehow instilled in me. She also had a grand sense of humor, a gift for looking at the twists and turns of life and finding the ironic and absurd.
My kids grew up with only one living grandmother, my mother-in-law, Virginia. She was their caregiver when they were babies and toddlers. That was the biggest gift she could give to them and to us, their parents. We could go off to work and know that our babies were safe and well cared for.
I knew it was time for Jackie to go to pre-school one night as she was saying her prayers. “And God bless Anna”, she said in her little girl voice. I was surprised because we didn’t know anyone named Anna. I asked who she was. Jackie looked at me like I should know the answer, but she indulged me by saying, “Anna! In Grammy’s story!”. Grammy’s story was the soap opera, “Days Of Our Lives”. Grammy never missed an episode, and apparently Jackie didn’t either.
Two friends of mine lost their mothers a few years ago. They both describe their moms as their best friends and “advisors”, women on whom they relied for good life advice and for support during the rough patches. I would like to think that I fulfill that role for my kids as well. I have had to learn the art of not giving advice when it isn’t requested. I’m sure I’ve made many a mistake in that regard, but I try to remain conscious of the importance of being asked.
My lessons have been learned through trial and error. I have very clear memories of times when I have inserted myself in their lives in most inappropriate ways. I’ve done this by expressing my opinion when it was not solicited, by handing out advice when it wasn’t appropriate, and by assuming that I had the answers they were looking for. Those episodes have been hurtful and I have had to apologize for my overzealous offertories.
Recently I have been with two friends who both expressed their discomfort with the holidays. Part of their feeling is all about difficulties with children. Both of them know that they have no control over what is happening. And this time of year tends to highlight the difference between a Norman Rockwell Christmas with everyone happily assembled around a holiday meal, and what happens in real life. Kids don’t get along. Kids have substance abuse problems. Kids are making decisions that seem to put them in harm’s way. And these are things that mothers can’t fix.
What’s a mother to do? It’s a challenge, for sure, to stay out of the way of meddling where it won’t be helpful. It’s hard to be on the sidelines and not run out into the playing field throwing down red and yellow cloths when a rule is broken. It’s hard not to share some really good life advice that we may have learned the hard way. My kids are grown and living good lives, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t worry about them. I will always want to spare them any pain if at all possible. After all, that will be in my mother’s job description as long as I’m around to have that sacred position.