Tag Archives: mother’s day

Ye’ olde family traditions

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Ye’ olde family traditions

When I was growing up, one town that I lived in frequently seemed to have an alley behind every street within its old city limits. We usually didn’t have much money and so when holidays came around like Memorial Day, Mother’s Day and Easter, instead of buying my family flowers (for them or their gravestones), my mother would drive down alleys letting me spot and cut beautiful escapee flowers.

It was really one of my favorite things to do. Lilacs are my grandma J’s favorite and so when those were still in season (depending on when Easter landed) we would scout those out first. I remember the joy and the feeling of responsibility I would get from riding with the door slightly ajar, no seat belt, while my mom would drive slowly down the alleys letting me jump out with scissors to run and steal flowers.

As a parent myself, I cringe at the memory…But as my inner child, I still remember the sneaky happiness. I am quite certain no one would have complained had they seen us cutting their alley irises or tulips, but it sure felt naughty which was part of the fun. There a few times they may have complained upon seeing me squeezing through gaps to reach beautiful flowers IN their yards but…..

I digress.

As an adult, and I use the term relatively, my bestest friend Pippi and I did the same thing. I even continued the tradition with my own children when I lived in that same town again. However I usually parked and walked or would follow the kids down the alley. (Traditions evolve you know.)

We haven’t found any alleys where we are now. Not for lack of trying either. Every year I see the flowers growing in spring and I mourn for my alley escapades.

I’ve seen some pretty gorgeous daffodils on a couple of shoulders and exits near my house though….they might just be fair game.

Happy whatever you do today!

Ancient Mother

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I have many mothers. And each has been instrumental in my development as a person and a mother myself. So I say, to all the women (and men) who have stepped up and taken the initiative to assume the role and actually BE mothers to all the children, of all ages that needed one or wanted one, or both: THANK YOU and HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY.

Ode to motherhood:

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Ode to motherhood:

I am the fading echo of my mother’s torment,

the strength she could not find.

Wandering lost for many lives,

trapped by the paths of my mind.

Solace found in the water, fed.

The light has found my dreams.

A heavy haze lifted and showed my own eyes

in them, looking back reflecting.

Her torment passed on; now teaching me.

I took the needle from the groove

and summoned the bridge planks to meet my feet.

Now I am running,

screaming FREE,

for them

and yet

still, for me.

Mother’s Day and my boychild.

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Mother’s Day and my boychild.

I have been lazy with my blog; graduate school and life have been somewhat overwhelmingly paralyzing as of late. So many things are changing in my world, internally and externally; it is hard to keep up sometimes. I know others feel this way, I think it is a consequence of the technological advances, speed of life and perhaps just the global adjustments to energy fluctuations. Who knows why, but it is what it is.

So I have been trying very conscientiously to stay in the moment and to reflect on my feelings and the reasons behind those feelings.

“The beginning of freedom is the realization that you are not the possessing entity, the thinker…” ~Eckhardt Tolle

I digress.

Ok, so maybe trying to stay in the moment and yet reflect are opposing concepts, to some extent, but I am trying. BACK OFF!

Hm. Really what keeps coming to mind this week is the fact that my boychild turns 15 on Monday.

HOLY CRAP.

I remember where I was on my 15th birthday. I had just gone “home” to visit. I was there with my best friend, her soon to be husband, our friend L whom I was supposed to be interested in (cause it would have been very convenient), my first love, and a few friends. My dad made me german chocolate cake. I have pictures. Maybe I will attach one. But to remember that day so clearly, what was going on, the things in my head that I was thinking, its all very surreal to imagine my child being that old and yet being so different from me. Or is he?

I remember going and changing my clothes because the boy I was madly in love with told me he liked me better in a different outfit. We weren’t together. But I did it. I changed my clothes. On my muthatrucking birthday.

I remember falling over in the garage while smoking and hitting my head so hard I blacked out for a few seconds; I was more concerned that people would think how clumsy I was, than whether I had a concussion. I probably did.

I had been living on my own for a couple of years, with and without friends. I was doing things NO 15-year-old should do.

I had just gotten my HED, similar to a GED, back before they checked your id for those things.

My son, he does things his own way. Always has. He is not a cookie cutter kid, that is for sure. But he is probably the coolest kid you will ever meet. He reminds me so much of a boy I knew once upon a time, who has a really cool mom. She was constantly challenged, proud and intrigued by the boy. He grew up to be a really good, capable and smart man. I know my boy will too. The way his brain works fascinates and stumps me. To have been privy to his first verbally acknowledged thought processes, wonder about his secret ones and have him share with me his new evolving thought processes is a perpetual gift.

I like to think that he couldn’t live on his own, make his way like I did. But he probably could. He is much more capable than this Mama wants to believe. The conversations that we hold have shown me this. Rather than having a big expensive birthday and presents, he wants me to make him a cake. He wants his grown up friend Matt,  to spend the weekend. So I am going to drive to Eugene to pick Matt up. He doesn’t want me to spend money because money is tight. (which simultaneously breaks my heart that he knows and yet warms my heart that he is probably a little more fiscally responsible than I, because I would have maxed a credit card for a gift had he asked for one.)

He has his 5 year plan in progress. It’s different from the 5 year plan I had for him and the 5 year plan I had for myself at his age. But as he gets older, I realize more and more, it’s not my plan. 🙂 That is the point. I am not the thinker. I get to observe the thinker.

Happy Mother’s Day.