Monday, May 9, 2016

DAY 5—In the Middle of it All

yes... it's from Pinterest...
I feel like I have reached the age where you become caught in the “between,” balancing young children and aging parents. 

I don’t know why but moments like Mother’s Day always bring out these feelings for me. I want to celebrate my mom and feel shy, awkward even, that it should be my day too. I know it sounds silly and typing it looks ridiculous, but I can’t deny it. And what’s even stranger is that I never remember thinking it was difficult to honor both my mom and my grandmother. Isn’t that crazy?

Plus, I find that as I get older, I want to be sure to show my mom how much she means to me, because I have friends who have lost their mothers and don’t have the opportunity to do that any longer. And I worry, does she know? Does she feel my love for her? Even when I am annoyed with the boys or life and get snippy with her or even snap at her, does she still know?

Now my parents are in good health, but their contemporaries are not and it is giving me pause lately. At this delicate time we are like a scale, keeping everything in balance—the joy, the sorrow, the triumph and the defeat. I can sense the stretch of it, the gentle pulling of wanting, no needing, everyone to be at every event, from plays to birthdays to baseball games to holidays, creating the shared experiences we can hold on to.  

And even more so, I am desperate for perfection. I want every moment to look like it’s springing out of a 1950’s sit-com—my kids sporting bow ties, acting polite and charming, me spinning through the room in a flared dress looking super skinny and carrying a cake on a tray while my parents laugh and everyone smiles….

{I know that’s an unreal expectation, but I am pretty sure that’s how Pinterest got started—unreal expectation for scripting your life—go ahead tell me I’m wrong!} 

So this mother’s day, the kids threw tantrums while I struggled to hold it together and only managed to get my mom a card—but you better believe I baked a cake! And through it all, I thought, it’s not enough…. How will we remember this day? What if days like this are numbered for us and it’s not enough?

Then this morning, I thought about in a new light. We were there, we were together, we shared the experience—and so what if the memories were a little more messy than I would have liked, the stories are ours and ours alone. 

And that is enough…

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