May 10, 2009

I am a mom. WIP

Ok, its Mothers Day. We all know it since modern advertising bashes our brains with "Buy flowers, buy chocolates, buy perfum, show your love......bla" . And then comes the obligatory statement that EVERYday is Mothers day. One isn´t a mom on one day of the year. Although in some sad cases, that would be one day more than none.

Is it really necessary to have a type of being-a mom-is-damn-fucking-hard-awareness day? Frankly, I´d find it more appropriate to celebrate moms on the children´s respective birthdays. It´d be more personal and smack less of forced happy ceremonious-yeah-I-know-you-are-great dutiful harmony.

I am not against Mothers Day. Well, actually, I kind of am.

The point I am trying to make this: being a mother is a part of me, like all the blood flowing through me. Its not a title bestowed on those who give birth. Not a badge of honor or anything. In the best of times, its like a permanent win in the lottery, in the worst of times, its like an incurable disease (I think anyone with a teenager will understand) You have to live with this worry sickness and make the best of the situation.

Thats what its like being a mom.

Of course I have my mom. When I was little, I was a real momma´s girl. Constantly following her around and being a cling-on (yeah, not the Star Trek kind) I never liked to do the sleep over party thing. An attempt ended in my getting a "stomach" ache" and my mom having to pick me up before spin the bottle games started. Going to a friends house to spend the afternoon was one thing, but I always had to return to the nest come sunset.

The biggest impact or influence that my mom had on me was taking me to see "The Nutcracker". I was seven years old. Yeah, I was enchanted by the Sugar Plum Fairy. She wove her spell around me. From that point forward, ballet consumed my life. And my mom supported that. She took me to ballet lessons in the town we lived in. When a decent amount of talent revealed itself, she even chauffered me downtown to North Hollywood for more advanced lessons.

My mom´s encouragement was never active, more passive. Any decisions I made I made myself. Yet I would have needed some pushing, some prodding at times. I always did the right thing, but didn´t understand the need to push beyond. No body ever told me that. Being good was one thing, but being better, more ambitious was another. And my mom nor my dad ever pushed me "beyond". I kind of figured that out myself as I entered the competitive world- a world which only honors exceptional achievement. And that is not reached by doing a "decent-by-the-book" job. Having passion is one thing I never lacked. I just didn´t understand how far-reaching and non-compromising it must be. How to channel it, implement it.

Don´t get me wrong - I am grateful. The responsibility every parent takes on by giving life and providing a safe and loving environment for that life to flourish in, is enormous. And I got that - a sanctuary when I needed one - like currently for example, was always at my disposal.

I don´t think they quite understand me, but well, in their own strange way, they are glad I am around. Floods of water have passed under the bridge since then - my ballet dreams and now - but the bridge has remained a steadfast, dependable connection, always.

Max too (is happy that I am around.....well, sometimes) - he is my son. He is 16 years old and today - of all days - has flown to Dublin on a class excursion. And he says to me last night "make sure you have your own place and a new computer when I get back." Its kind of a running gag between us. I do have my own place to retire to to work. But at night I always come "home". And I am pleased being a part of his every day life.

Ok - you have to understand that I worked a large part of Max´s life basically traveling the world. So when I suddenly turned up, saying "I´m here to stay!" I expect that was a bit of a shock. What? Mom, like, home, all
the time?

Yep, I am. At least to see him finish school and graduate. I know he doesn´t need me to be here all the time, but I want him to know that I am here when he needs me. Sharing ordinary things like pizza and coaxing a slice off him and watching Germany´s Next Top Model together is fun. Although he calls all the girls cry babies, I know he thinks some are cute. Thats fun. Small things make a difference.

We agreed, or, rather, I insisted he send me an occasional text from Dublin. And he did....."its nice".


On that boyfriend sent me an email......."Happy Mothers Day!" This is the guy who has listened, over the past year and a half, to me moaning and crying and carrying on when difficulties arose. Who knows Max. Who unselfishly supported me and Max through all these rough phases. Who interpreted for me certain behaviour of a teenage boy I just didn´t comprehend. He was always there when I needed him most. I can´t count the hours he spent talking me off the ledge. Always. So much over-whelming generosity.


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