Image by amanderson2
In honor of Mother’s Day, I’d like to share a post I wrote last year in honor of my mom.
You’ve probably gleaned from previous posts that I have a good relationship with my mother. The truth of it is that I have a great relationship with her: I value her opinion like no one else’s; I trust her moral compass; I never want to disappoint her; I want to someday have a relationship with Baby Sister like the one my mom and I have now.
And I’m not sure that I ever realized how much I appreciated her until I became a mom myself.
In some ways, I’ve repeated elements of my mother’s journey: moving from the state of my birth to the state of hers, having three children. And I learned how to be a mother from her. From the little things she did. From the big things I learned from those little things.
Like delayed gratfication.
When I was in junior high, I really wanted a Benetton sweatshirt – in the way I really wanted Eastland shoes, Love’s Baby Soft perfume, and an anorak from L.L. Bean. My mom didn’t see the need in a $50 sweatshirt, apparently, and resisted my requests. But, on a family trip to Utah, she compromised and bought me one that was marked down at the Benetton store in Salt Lake City (marked down, perhaps, because it had “Utah” printed on it in an odd turquoise cursive font under the ubiquitous Benetton logo). And she didn’t make fun of me – at least not that I remember – when I asked the salesgirl for a specific kind of shopping bag for my loot, one with a drawstring that I could wear messenger bag style, like the other girls in my class did.
It wasn’t the exact sweatshirt I wanted, but I treasured it anyway. Maybe because I had to wait to get it. Maybe because that hokey “Utah” bridged my tween-age insecurities and desire to fit in and the understanding and generosity of my mom on that trip.
My mother also spoiled me rotten, but in the simplest ways.
When my brothers and I were little, she always listened to the “oldies station” (“Big D 103!”) so we grew up singing the greatest hits of the 50s, 60s, 70s, and 80s – even though, it occurs to me now, the 80s weren’t, technically, “oldies” in the 80s – while sitting in the back seat of our dark green Chevy Citation hatchback, the backs of our thighs sticking to the vinyl seats. If a song that one of us really liked was still on when we had reached our destination, my mom would keep the car running until it had finished. That’s just the kind of mom she was.
One day I was riding in the car with my Aunt Kathy (she wasn’t really my aunt, but she was one of those mom’s-best-friends-who-feel-like-family-kind-of-aunts) and her daughter. We were meeting my mom at the bowling alley where she was in a Tuesday league, a place that smelled of smoke and sweat and a type of cheese one only finds on Doritos. When Aunt Kathy pulled into the parking lot, a song I loved - Bertie Higgins‘s “Key Largo” – came on the radio:
We had it all
Just like Bogie and Bacall
Starring in our old late, late show
Sailing away to Key LargoHere’s lookin’ at you kid
Missing all the things we did
We can find it once again, I know
Just like they did in Key Largo
“I love this song!” I called out just as Aunt Kathy pulled into a parking space. Giving me a smile of appreciation – and no doubt acknowledging my superior taste in music – she proceeded to kill the ignition and “Key Largo” right along with it. I was shocked, somehow hurt, when she turned off the car.
That wasn’t what moms do when a kid likes a song, I thought.
Years later, I’ve long forgiven Aunt Kathy, but still thank my mom for teaching me the beauty of spoiling my kids in the simplest ways: an extra hug, an extra chapter of The Hobbit, “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” on repeat in the minivan.
Happy Mother’s Day to you.
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Oh, this is lovely and makes me cry. I can so relate to the ways our mothering is influenced by our own mothers, and the fact that we don’t quite appreciate them until we are mothers ourselves. As you know, I do this, leave the car running until the song ends, and hearing you say it is something you remember from our own childhood has stuck with me. I never realized it was much of a gesture or a kindness towards my kids, but now I fill with warmth everytime we listen to the end of a Katy Perry song, thinking that someday they too will remember this. At least I hope. xox
I love hearing about how moms have built up and spoiled their kids in the smallest, seemingly unimportant moments. I love the delight in my kids faces when I listen to them and honor their hopes.
I love this. Thank you for reminding me how tender children are and how easy to please:) You know, you have a stunning way with details … there is a novel in you girl!!! Set in the 80′s, a young female protagonist …. I can’t wait!!
Oh, this brought tears to my eyes. Punched me in a gut, actually, because my own mother was filled with just the same kind of kindnesses. Reading your words makes me miss her intensely, all of a sudden, sitting here on a sunny May afternoon. I, too, endeavor to have that same relationship with Abra. It’s funny: I was listening to a woman give a talk yesterday about toddlers, and she said she knew a dad whose philosophy was to say “yes” as much as he possibly could, because children hear “no” so often. This was your mom’s small, but kind, way of saying “yes.” Okay, now you’ve inspired me to write a post of my own on this topic!
Oooh. Now you have me thinking. I’m a Mom who advocates music variety in the car despite the numerous requests for the ABC CD. But I’m overly susceptible to “Just one more!” when reading chapter books at bedtime and watching Saturday morning cartoons. I wonder what my kids will remember when they grow big. I remember homemade play clothes with matching baby doll outfits and hours dedicated to getting my hair just the way I wanted it.
This is so poignant, Kristen, and such a contrast to my own relationship with my mother (as I think you know). But this weekend, I celebrated with a friend and his 84-year old mother. It was her birthday, and an early Mother’s Day dinner combined.
Funny… This morning in my own way I mused about being a mother, having looked through images of my boys from ages 10 through 16 very recently. Perhaps it is my own continued shifting as I look back, as I consider the present, and also – look ahead.
We never know how our children will remember us. I can only hope it will be kindly, in the way that you think of your mother, and the gifts she has given you.
My mother had these plastic cups that came out at birthdays and held peanut M&M’s. That’s how you knew it was a birthday party. She put up crepe paper every time. My mother had terrible taste, but enormous attention to detail. The love I swallowed in every bite didn’t care if it was in style, simply that I was seen while doing so.
I love this too, Kristen—from the yearning for that sweatshirt (and bag) to those driveway moments of music savored. Cheers for your mom and for you too. XO
Should I tell you I had a Benetton sweatshirt as a teenager? Living in France, I’m guessing it must have cost less than here, or my mom wouldn’t have bought it.
And I could listen to You’ve got a friend in me every day. And watch any of the three Toy Story movies every day. We know many of the lines of our favorite movies and love to use them in our everyday conversations!
I wish I had the relationship with my mom just like the one you have with yours. But alas, it’s just not in the cards for me, and maybe that’s why I’ve made it my life’s goal to make sure I change that for my girls. Not in a forceful, you have to love me way. Hopefully in a way that feels natural and right. But having no idea of what that reality is like, I guess I’ll just have to make it up as I go along…
And yes, these little pleasures mean so much to little ones. You’re so lucky to have a mom who recognized that and in turn has influenced you to do the same.
p.s. After your post last week, I made my way to the Chipotle down the street from me with Thumper and had a burrito date with her. The place is close but I’ve only been there one other time, so that’s some post if it moved me to act like that :)
Delayed gratification isn’t one of those things I hear children being thankful to their mothers for these days. And yet it is a truly important aspect of learning the value of anything, especially things that aren’t material and require a long time to build.
Have a fantastic mother’s day weekend to you and the mothers you treasure in your world.
This is such a lovely ode to motherhood and, of course, your mom!
(I strive for these kinds of memories and this kind of relationship with my own daughters. Beautiful.)
Wonderful post! I have a truly great relationship w/ my mom, too. You’re so right–being a good mom IS about the little things.
Happy Mother’s Day to you!
It is the little things that we often remember far more vividly than the big.
This is beautifully written and so true. We are spoiled so much more by the little things than by the big ones. I do remember, more than one article of clothing I was not allowed to have but I also remember dessert before dinner and staying up late to watch the Love Boat.
So touching and poignant Kristen. It’s the type of relationship I hope to create with my daughter. I hope you had a splendid Mother’s Day.
Just love this, K. The Benetton story made me laugh; I was right there with you. I’ll never forget my senior year of high school when my DAD took me back-to-school shopping. “Do you want to look in this store,” he asked, not knowing that my mom wouldn’t have spent that kind of cash on one! shirt! for the world. Thanks for sharing this beautiful tribute. Hope you had a wonderful Mother’s Day. xoxo
OMG I do that, too! It seems so wrong to turn off an awesome song right in the middle. When your favourite song comes on the radio, it’s sort of like a gift from the radio spirits. It seems so wrong to turn it down or off!
Thanks for reminding us all that it is the little things that count. Happy (belated) Mother’s Day to you, too!
Oh wow! Yes, that shocked me at the end with your “aunt.” (and then my heart went to having compassion for her — she obviously was hurting with her own stuff). This post really got me thinking about the “not so obvious” ways my mom, unbeknown to me, was modeling to me “what a mom does.” I, too, took for granted or made assumptions about “what moms do” – like turning up the radio when a song comes on that they love. Allowing kiddos to really ENJOY a moment. I have made it a practice to really be conscious of the times that I DON’T need to SAY ANYTHING, to correct anything…to just let my kiddos BE. You are inspiring a post, someday, on this topic… yes, my own mother, her sweet kindness in “not so obvious ways” that I see now as a mom to two little honeys. She did things like this ALL the time — I appreciate her for the art of giving me space — to be, to express, to enjoy, and to play. Wow. Thank you for this reminder! Lovely, Lisa
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