Simple Sundays | On Motherhood
Driving to gymnastics. Ironing that t-ball uniform. Picking up from drama practice. Organizing camping gear for Girl Scouts. Packing lunches at 11 pm. Finding that leotard. Checking that homework. Reminding them: it’s time to go. It’s time to go. Did you hear me? Go! Go!…
Driving to gymnastics. Ironing that t-ball uniform. Picking up from drama practice. Organizing camping gear for Girl Scouts. Packing lunches at 11 pm. Finding that leotard. Checking that homework. Reminding them: it’s time to go. It’s time to go. Did you hear me? Go! Go! Go!
I found myself taking a breather the other day. Sitting in a chair…a novelty. And I remembered when things were simpler. I remembered when they were babies. Things seemed so hard back then, but now I look back and recall those moments fondly. We still followed their schedule, yes, but rather than always being on the go, rushing from school to activities to events, it was more about feeding and playing and napping. Feeding every two hours, gazing into their eyes, watching them grip your pinky. It was nature’s way to force you to stop. To bond. To appreciate.
Because truth be told, when you are rushing hither and yon, you just can’t appreciate the people around you. You lose sight of what that relationship between mother and child is about. Quite honestly, for me, it has been a lot like this video lately:
Funny (and true) as that is (I do joke that it is my daily anthem), is that how I want to be remembered?
No, it is not.
When I look back at my own memories of my mother, I do recall those moments of sacrifice, how she folded laundry late at night, how she fell asleep in church because she was exhausted from the day to day things. I do remember how she would pick me up from rehearsals, even if it was late at night. But what I remember more was that she always had a sweet disposition. She never once complained. She still managed to make us laugh, to learn a new dance with us, to make time for special moments. Last Mother’s Day, I told you all about her. And this Mother’s Day, I resolve to be more like her.
How will my children remember me? Time will tell. But I do know that I don’t want them to remember me so much for the “Momisms” than for being what a mother should be. Someone who takes the time to truly listen. To look into their eyes. To be compassionate. To take the time.
Because of this space, they will surely remember me and the food we shared. I hope that they look fondly back one day at Kitchen Confidante and the recipes that I strive to capture, for them. I know I do the same for my own mother. She influences me still, and I reminisce whenever I make her dishes or her favorite foods. So, on this Mother’s Day, I thought I would recall some of the foods that I have already shared with you – the ones that remind me of mom. I hope when you make them, you feel the love that is passed on, one generation at a time.
Happy Mother’s Day.
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