I don't remember wanting to be a mother before I became one. When I was a small girl, my dolls weren't my pretend kids. Tamu was my sister and baby Thumbelina was her sister, but, not my sister. Oh, I don't know, I think we worked out the relationships later. The point is, they were not my daughters, ever.
Now, of course you know that I am a mother. Not once, but twice over. I don't know how this happened. Well, I know how....but, for the life of me I cannot recall the thought process that led me down this road. Most likely, very little thought was deployed.
So I found myself tending to the every want and need to one and then two little, loud, and messy people. Two people who all too quickly grew larger in body and mind. With help from my mom, the heavy lifting was accomplished. The work however is not done, it's never done.
I know Mother's Day was a week ago, but with all the graduation festivities, I didn't have the opportunity to properly reflect on the phenomenon of my young man and lady. More will be said about them, for now, please just know that they've rocked my world since conception.
My mom, in spite of her own problems and personal demons, was right there with me, helping me tend to them. The fact of them helped her survive some of those dark days. I'm afraid, though that she doesn't have enough to hold onto these days. I'm close to exhausted on options.
But, today is about honor and thanks. I thank my mom for all she does as I continue to do all I can for her. My maternal grandmother was buried Mother's Day 17 years ago. I feed on these nuggets as I soldier on: my grandmother was pregnant 18 times. She carried 13 to term. Ten of the full-terms resulted in live births. All but 1 of the 10 had children. Many of those children, had children. Every child born into this family prior to her death, was held, gingerly, sweetly by Big Mama.
My grandmother was a woman of few words but very large acts of discipline, kindness and compassion. We all miss her very much. We love her still. Every day is our day.