Happy Happy Mom's Day

Even though Mother's Day is one of those greeting card created holidays, I think it's a very important day to celebrate.

Cuz let's face it, we all take our mommas for granted. And even though it sometimes seems we live in a sitcom world, the reality is, our lives are tied up in a neat little bow after 30 minutes (including commercial breaks).

However, we can learn lots about parenting from sitcoms...because I'm quite certain most of these fictional moms were based on someone real.

Here are a couple of quotes from two of my favorite TV Moms (and let's face it, these quotes have shaped me into the awesome mom I am today):

That 70s Show: Kitty Forman: All families are embarrassing. If they aren't embarrassing they're dead.

Married with Children: Peg Bundy: [to Kelly and Bud] Kids, you know the speech, you did a bad thing, blah, blah, don't do it again.



Did you have a great mother's day? Did you get something special or give something special?

The boys and I went to see Iron Man 2 (fantastic, btw) and then had a low key day at home. It was pretty much perfect.

Happy Mother's Day

M is for the many things she gave you. You can make up the rest. But whatever you do, don't let tomorrow slip by without thanking a mom, even if you no longer have one. Mothers deserve so much more than a day!

I've always loved being an aunt and god-mother, but never wanted to have children of my own. Just as well, since I am unable to have them and adoption would be irresponsible for somebody with health issues. Still, I'm incredibly lucky to have wonderful children in my life. More-so, I think, than most people think. I get to send them home when they aggravate me, be the ear they need to bend, and buy them the thing that's a weenie bit expensive when they've earned it. It's a heck of a job and I wouldn't trade the kids in my life for anything.

As for mothers... I still have mine, thank goodness, but I also had some amazing women in my life during my formative years. My grandmothers-- including a great-aunt who will always count as a grandmother to me-- were astonishing, inspiring, phenomenal women. They were wind-sown feminists before feminism was a catch-word, taking root in the hedges and dales of the world, thriving where the wind blew them. They raised children without help, fostered families without expecting anything in return, and were artists without ever having their canvases acknowledged. I know they had stories, though they never knew a page. I've memorized them all. I know they could paint and draw, though no gallery ever featured them. Scribbles on the corners of newspapers delighted us when we sat on aging knees.

Carrie Virginia, Marie, Irene, and Elaine-- great, towering talents. Their canvases and manuscripts were their children.

Thanks. Love you. Happy Mother's Day!

These Dreams

I had a strange dream that stuck with me this morning.

I was trying to take my kids to a movie. Carrie Fisher was the movie ticket girl--but that isn't the part I want to talk about even though it was kinda cool. Anyway, I sent the kids to get seats and I went to get the snacks. Long lines/not enough hands and general mayhem ensue at this point. I then tried to find the viewing room and got on this escalator that went so fast it spilled me and my accouterments at the bottom of it and it turns out that was the wrong place anyway--it was a hotel lobby. Then, the escalator that went back up was broken. By the time I found the right place, I had to find the kids in the dark and make everyone mad while I tried to get my seat. Then Oprah was there and the movie was over.

So--I looked up escalator on an online dream dictionary (interesting note: Carrie Fisher is not in the online dream dictionary) and found that escalator dreams symbolize moving through various levels of consciousness.

Only I don't think that's what my dream was about. I think my dream was about me realizing that my kids are growing up really, really fast. And that my life (the escalator) is keeping me from spending time with them because it is taking me away from them rather than towards them. And that I need to try and slow down and enjoy the teen years instead of stressing so much about where everyone is going and how they will get there (literally and symbolically).

Mother's Day is Sunday. As usual, what I want is not a lavish lunch in a restaurant with expensive gifts and well dressed kids on their best behavior. I want a day at the beach or up at Hurricane Ridge. Or maybe even croquet in the back yard. Mother's Day isn't just about appreciating Mom (though you should), it's also a day to appreciate being a mom for those of us who are.

And if someone sees Carrie Fisher, tell her I said hello.

The Gift of Books -- Thanks, Mom!

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. All of us have something-- some gift, memory, or grace-- given to us by our moms. Maybe we aren't even aware of it: eyes that are an unusual shade of grey, a tilt of the head that echoes a young woman from long ago, a habit of twirling hair, a laugh. I have my mother's eyes-- one of my only truly pretty features. I didn't get her curls, but I got the dark color of her hair. I have her hands. I have her voice, husky and low.

But the greatest gift my mother gave me was a passion for books. I remember a time, preparing high school students for the MCAS (standardized test) exams. My department chair shared a study that showed that the most reliable and consistent factor among students who did well on these exams, and in school overall, was the amount of reading material in the home. Kids from low income, middle income, and high income homes performed better across the board if they had parents who kept books, magazines, and other reading materials around the house. Even the education level of the parents had less of an impact on the statistics. A kid with two parents who had graduate degrees or higher would score predictably lower than a kid with parents who had nothing more than a high school education, but lived in a home with a wide variety of reading material.

I was not so much shocked as pleasantly surprised. Reading makes you smarter. It exposes you to ideas and experiences. It opens your mind.

My mom gave me books. I grew up without many luxuries; we never went to Disney Land. But there was a great used book store in the next town called The Book Stall. They had a musty basement (every time I read about Harry Potter sneaking through the tunnel to Honeydukes I think of it). You could buy used paperbacks there, and they had a terrific "swap" program where you could bring in a grocery back full of novels, swap it for a couple of bucks and another full bag. There were always a few around the house, and my mom traded off with all the neighborhood mothers, too.

I read my first romance-- Jude Deveraux's The Black Lion-- way before I was old enough for the content. But I figured it all out eventually-- and thank goodness the age of the bodice ripper has gone. Those types of romances are rare these days. But I also read Tolkien, CS Lewis, devoured the Ingalls Wilder books, and moved on to adult stuff before leaving grade school. The most exciting part of moving from the lower grades to junior high, for me, was getting my greedy hands on the stacks at the library.

I still love books. I will always love books. I love the smell, and the feel of the pages, and the tiny scribbles in pencil some stranger has left in the margin. I love yard sales on a warm June afternoon with tables piled with yellowing paperbacks-- old school romances from Johanna Lindsay and Kathleen Woodiwiss, original copies of Lad, A Dog. I love the gold on the edges of a leather-bound classic. I love the shift as the first words take me someplace new, and the bittersweet feeling of both loss and completion when I turn the last page to say goodbye to new friends and far off places.

So Happy Mother's Day, Lanie. And thank you for the many, many worlds you gave me.