Jean Frances McDonald Weir
Although my mom passed away 14 years ago she is still omnipresent in my life. I see her in my siblings and I see her in my children. I hope to see her in me. Especially as a mom. Its a high bar, believe me. I don’t think is all gauzy nostalgia. Its hard to find anything bad to say about my mom. She was Scottish cheap despite my dad wanting to buy her the world and she was a merciless Scrabble and card game competitor. That’s the worst I can say about her. And if you find this sort of thing objectionable, she was really short.
My mom was sweet. Sweet but smart. Patient but determined. Funny but not sarcastic. Cuddly, warm and as a bonus a great cook. An while I might have always known that my dad loved my mom best, I always knew that she had enough for all of us (we were a family of six kids!). So when I lose it with my kids and I yell or walk away because I don’t want to deal, I often think, God, Mom never did that, she never yelled or ignored us because we were unreasonable. She was there. Maybe quietly talking us off the ledge or saying nothing. No judgment or encouragement about this behavior. She just reassured by her presence and made us believe we could be good. She made us feel loved.
Something to aspire to.
But actually not here in Argentina. We get to celebrate it in October again. But as my husband likes to say, “Everyday is Mothers Day in Argentina….” How the fuck would he know? He is in Patagonia flying around on someones private jet and fishing at someones private fishing lodge as we speak.
This morning I was greeted by my five year old daughter Georgie and a plastic plate with a cup of juice (actually served in a baby bottle without the top) and a yogurt, in its original plastic container, without a spoon. Reminiscent of breakfast room service at the Four Seasons. Nothing says I love you like breakfast served in bed and I did get some cute heartfelt cards from the three youngest.
The oldest who is 12, presented me with nothing, zero, zilch. Just a handful of attitude which he doles out everyday of the year, not just holidays. I didn’t take it personally as he is suppose to hate me at this point in his life. It just makes me a little sad. Those days of cuddling and sweet talk are over. And what an ingrate..he was by far the most difficult birth, 5 hours of back labor and no drugs. Served him right that he came out with a cone head. This morning when I explained that he owed me at least a kiss or hug for all the pain and hard work on his behalf he balked and seemed disgusted by me and the suggestion. It just gets easier and easier to humiliate and shame him…Never knew being a mom could be so much sinister fun. Cant wait until he brings home a girlfriend!
|(May 11 in 2008)
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