May, 2005 Mother's Day

May 8, 2005 Mother’s Day

Dear Everybody,

This last week Anna and Emma had the privilege to go to Colorado and visit their three cousins and their Aunt Laurie who spoiled them both royally as any good aunt would. On the airplane home, there were lots of tears – not just for the missed cousins, but also for their now-endeared aunt. My sister-in-law, Laurie, is one great lady. The kids come first and all near her come away feeling loved and valued. The girls frequently mentioned her love of shopping as well. Frankly, she could shop circles around me.

But then, the comparisons began.

“Why don’t we go out to eat as much as we did with Aunt Laurie, Mom?” (“Diets are boring, Mom.”)

“Mom, why don’t you like to go shopping?” (“Grocery stores are boring, Mom.”)

“Aunt Laurie made lots of different meals, Mom.” (“Goulash is boring, Mom.”)

“Aunt Laurie tucked her kids in EVERY night, Mom!” (“Being tired is boring, Mom.”)

“We’d be walking along the street and Aunt Laurie knew everybody. And they’d all say “hi” to her, Mom!” (“Our lives are boring, Mom.”)

“Mom, why don’t you wear sequins like Aunt Laurie?” (“You are boring, Mom.”)

I knew the differences were there. Laurie does love shopping. I hate crowds. Besides, Bakersfield is hardly a mecca for mall-bums. Laurie is a people-person. She knows everyone in every store and frequently gets discounts since she’s a “personal friend”.

I admit it. I’m task-oriented. Just give me a list and I’m in hog-heaven. Better yet, give me a project and I’ll make lists for everybody involved. But do I

have to do people as well? As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gotten more reclusive and introverted. It’s not that I never have conversations. I just have to manually set aside my list to see the face in front of me. Maybe it’s because the job of mothering uses up all of the people-time I’m allotted. Maybe it’s because a list doesn’t sass.

As for the kids, raising them to leave and cleave is on my list. And some of the subcategories to get them to that goal are to get them to make their own beds (check), brush their own teeth (check), make their own breakfasts (check), and put themselves to bed (mostly checked). They could all shower alone by age three, and by four, they even got most of the shampoo rinsed out as well. “You can pour milk on your Fruit Loops now? Yea for you!” (Check.)

I’ve been told bedtime is the best time; it’s when all of the defenses are down. Mike has always loved reading to them and tucking them in. I enjoy it too, but if I feel they are dependent on it to fall asleep then I feel I failed on my checklist. Plus, I’m usually just plain burned-out by bedtime.

I was teasing Anna and Emma yesterday. “So you’re saying that you like your Aunt Laurie better than your own mother?” (No response.)

Sometimes I feel like a ball in a pinball machine. My own jealousies, pride and laziness pull me toward the bottom of the slope, to the hole of no return. But God has little flappers of discipline that He brings along that keep swatting me back, up the slope, giving me another chance to score big.

Anna was one of those flappers.

She wrote me a note that evening, “[I do miss] Aunt Laurie’s fun, loving, optimistic, gentle, caring-in-every-way spirit. . .but [what] I am beginning to realize [is] that I am actually missing yours.”

Ouch. Guess it’s time to re-evaluate that list.

Like a rock,

Amy

P.S. to Laurie: I can’t wait to see you this summer. I’m picking up lots of cookies, candy, and ice cream for your girls. For breakfast.