It has made me think. Is my son safe at school? Are we safe anywhere? The mall, schools, the theatre. I truly don’t know. I know my hope and trust is in God and I just move forward the best that I can.

I’ve read many blogs posts about the shooting. I know it’s made us all think. It’s made us hug our loved ones a little harder, a little longer. Maybe it’s made us reconcile with someone we cast aside. Or maybe it’s caused us to think about what’s truly important. This is just my 2 cents, but here is where I’m at.

I titled this “I don’t have time to _____.” Fill in the blank. What are you always saying you don’t have time to do? I’m a Mom and my life is busy. It’s not jam packed with important things every second of the day. I only have one child. I’m less busy than Moms of 2+. However, I still say I don’t have time ALL THE TIME.  Ha.

I don’t have time to workout. I don’t have time to cook. I don’t have time to play with you. I don’t have time for date nights. I don’t have time to go skiing.

I could list 100 things I feel like I “don’t have time” for. But this has hit me like a tidal wave. It’s not ok anymore to use this excuse. I do have time. I do have time to play with my son. I do have time to take care of myself. I do have time to make and take someone dinner. I do have time to listen to a friend in need or visit the sick.

Every moment is a choice. And I DO have the time.

You know who doesn’t have time? Our friend who died in an avalanche this past February skiing on the mountain he loved with his best friends. His time is done. He doesn’t have time to have kids or get married. The Christmas before he died, he had invited my husband and I to come stay at his house in Leavenworth for a few days. Hang out, ski, eat, have fun. And you know what? We didn’t go. We didn’t “have the time.”

And my friend that died unexpectedly from breast cancer the doctors told her was all gone. She doesn’t have the time. She doesn’t get the time to watch her grandkids play or see new ones born. Or continue her lifetime legacy of helping inmates avoid going back to jail and make a new life for themselves.

And the sweet Mom from my church who died from a drug overdose and left a 15 year old boy here.

Then there are the 26 beautiful souls that left this world last Friday. Oh God, I can’t fathom to think of the 20 children and the lives they could have lived.  Or the teachers?

I don’t know why I’ve lost people close to me this year. I don’t know why those kids had to die. I don’t know why some people die tragically and other’s lead a full long life. But I do believe when things like this happen, it’s good to take a step back and look at our perspective. Am I on the path I should be on?

What am I putting off? What am I waiting for? What am I avoiding?

Life happens NOW. My life is happening today and all I have is this moment. What am I choosing?

I know I waste time. I know I make some bad choices. I know I put things off. I make excuses. I tell friends I am busy. I don’t play with my son because I want to finish a book. We don’t go camping because I didn’t take the time to plan it. Or we didn’t go kick the ball around at the park because I’m tired.

I know I’m never going to be perfect. I’m never going to make the right choices 100% of the time. But I do commit from this day forward and in 2013 that I will strive for fewer excuses. I will strive to seize more opportunities.

I will make the time to be, do and see what’s important to me and my family.

And you know what? Some of you need to get up off your ass and start living. Get wild and live your purpose. Make a difference. Jump in and make some waves. Do what your heart has always been yearning to do. Tell your insecurities and doubts to shut up and go live your life. Be bold, be courageous. Be heard.

There is such love in the world we hear.
but the best love is that one I have so near,
because it is the love I have for you,
and it makes me giggle, honeydew.
For you are the fruit that makes my life sweet.
I love your face, your hands, and your feet.
I have a taste for your music, more and more.
One thing you are not, and that is a bore.
This is very silly for the mid-afternoon,
It just may arrive very inopportune. . .
But…I washed the dessert spoon for the racoon,
And he said the swoon tune was for the baboon,
and he didn’t live here anymore.
So it’s back to the computer to write and write.
I’ll write until the end of the night.
But it wont be right until the sight of my light goes out for the night.
Then I can go to bed.
Did you hear that Oop got the croup?
I gave him some goop so he wouldn’t whoop,
And he sat on the stoop in a loop with his age-group.
Whoops, alley-oop, I cannot recoup.
I’d better go  regroup before I droop.
This is not funny when I pause for so long.
It comes out better faster even when it’s wrong.
Go back to your song. Pick up the prong.
I’ve sworn off those petroleum ding-dongs.
The puny Zuni went looney at the sight of the moon.
I’ll quit typing this silly verse for this afternoon.

The Boat in the coat came by the house again today.
He left a note that he wrote to you.
He parked at the dock, set his tick-tock clock, and came inside to straighten my house.
He wanted to know where my mother was,
I asked him why and he said because.
I hated thing one and thing two and I told him so.
He said if I didn’t like him that he would go.
I said good but eat before you leave.
He had something else up his sleeve.
But you wont know until you ask me for part two of this.
For I’d never have fun that you would miss.
but I did have fun with the boat in the coat.
It was a very warm coat.
There he goes, with a very large wake.
Now all I have to do is bake the cake.
It’s for tomorrow afternoon you see.
For on that day he brings the monkey.
It’s a great thing he does, going from dock to dock.
He’s checking that everyone home alone has a clock.
But he eats well, that boat in a coat.
And he leaves a wake instead of a note.

OUch. I think I could take over for Dr. Seuss very easily.
The computer will fit in very nicely  if I use it a little bit.
The keyboard wont have babies unless it’s a motherboard.
Then they’ll be called babie-boards.
This needs work I know, but the idea is rare and I took the dare.
Well, I send this now so you get it. I could write on it all night.
Dont forget that galloping crow who hopped out to the lump in the road to eat.

How are you. don’t give up don’t ever give up.
You are the light of the world.
A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.
You shine. Shine on, baby.

This is so cool, I will surely keep writing seusslike . . .bye.

My first awareness of Mother’s Day involved presenting some picked flowers and a crayoned picture to my Mom. Growing up, it just became the day that we should appreciate, pamper and spoil Mom. It later became clear to me that this sacred day of thanking our Mothers had evolved into a marketing ploy by greeting card companies and florists to sell more of their product – cynical, I know. Sure, sounds easy enough – put celebrating our Moms on the calendar so we remember to do it once a year – check. Ugh. Despite my frustration with this commercialized Mom-opoly of a holiday, it was still worth buying into, saying thank you to the woman who raised me and greatly shaped the person I am today.

So, how do we celebrate Mother’s Day? Of course, companies tell us what we should do or buy for Mom. Other people influence us, too. Some ask Mom directly what she wants for Mother’s Day. There are as many answers as there are Moms, and that’s ok. Some will take what the advertisers suggest. Others might keep a running list of ideas handy – breakfast in bed, a cook & maid service for a day, to be queen/star for a day, someone to remove her entire family from the premises for a day so she can simply be left alone to garden or do whatever else she pleases in blissful silence without being interrupted – no, I’m not (necessarily) dropping hints here. Is there a box to check all of the above, please? That would be great, thanks. I’ve found every Mother’s Day experience to be different from year to year. Personally, I like a nice surprise once in a while. Because I’m the Mom, I’m the default Cruise Director of this Love Boat. I organize it, line it up and knock it out of the park – well, it’s a decent average on most days, anyway. On Mother’s Day, I list several activities as options I would like, then hold on and enjoy the ride.

Gratitude and Appreciation for our Mothers
I don’t know any Mom who will say becoming a Mother has not altered their outlook on life in some way. It certainly changed my perspective on so many things, including how I saw my own mother. I now better understand her words and actions, her motivations and decisions. And I am so grateful. Mom’s words don’t always sink in, especially when you’re seven years old and certain that absolutely every kid in the neighborhood is getting a treat from the ice cream truck EXCEPT you because Mom said no. Or when you’re 15 years old and know for a fact (complete with ‘tude and eye-roll) that you are perfectly capable of living your day, your way, without filling your parents in on the details, yet you are mulling this over in your room while serving a week-long grounding from Mom that feels like an eternity. Well, if I didn’t before, I finally got it. She would say, “Someday you’ll understand, maybe it won’t be until you become a Mom, but you’ll understand eventually.” She was so right.  I also freely admit to wishing I could fire a shotgun in the air each time an ice cream truck drives through our neighborhood blaring its incessant, cringe-evoking music through mounted bullhorn, requiring yet another explanation to my oldest child why their product is not worth buying or eating.

Gratitude and Appreciation from our Children
It occurred to me that even my youngest children, twins who are just over a year old, already know how to say ‘Thanks Mom, I love you’ if I listen carefully enough.  At any age, these messages are not always conveyed with words but sometimes instead with gestures, like the recent gesture of gratitude and appreciation from my son. One day after finishing a usual breastfeeding session, he sat up with the goofiest, milk-dripping, emerging-toothed grin on his sweet little face, gave a contented sigh and exhaled with a squeak, ‘gah-gaaaahhh’. At this point, my entire being was a puddle of sappy, adoring mush. And then I looked down. On my nursing bosom, he had left an impression of his little hand, an outline of his firm grip on a delicious snack. As if his smile wasn’t enough, I took the handprint as an overt symbol of his gratitude and appreciation for me, for his mama. I know: ‘it’s the milk, stupid’. You’re thinking, ‘ow, doesn’t that hurt?’ The answer is no, not really, it’s usually gentle and makes the milk let-down faster for him. I am blessed that he has always been a happy and eager nurser, but this time it was different somehow. I took it as a little bit of awesome, so kudos and happy early Mother’s Day to me!

Gratitude and Appreciation from our partners and family
Adjusting to life with a baby can make anyone appreciate the primary person (usually a Mom but sometimes a Dad – one love, yo) who keeps baby healthy, happy, safe, warm and quiet. Yep, I said it – quiet. Among other things, Dads miss sleep. A lot. They are grateful when the sleep starts to return after welcoming a newborn into the family. Don’t get me wrong, Moms miss their sleep too, but women have a (hormonal or other super-natural) ability to be more easily conditioned to less sleep for the care and well-being of their offspring – at least this is the theory in my house, aside from the superhero cape with a giant ‘MOM’ on the back. Yep, I said that, too. Dads and partners are grateful for sleep and much, much more. We hear about it when they say thank you for all the things they notice, big or small. I’d say appreciation from partners falls into that ‘doesn’t-just-fit-into-one-day’ category. Friends and family are also sources of support, gratitude and compliments for our hard work as Moms. ‘Your son is so considerate!’ from a girlfriend or ‘Your daughter is so helpful’ from the preschool teacher or ‘You are such a good mama!’ from the neighbor – all of these should be translated as ‘Lady, you rock. Have an awesome Mother’s Day because you are an awesome Mom!’

Gratitude and Appreciation for Ourselves
My own transition into Motherhood offered a whole new view for me on this Mother’s Day thingy. On my first Mother’s Day, I blushed when people wished me well. Baby in arms, I beamed a proud smile and let the compliments come. I had arrived! I was part of the largest sorority in the world and rush week was spread out over nine+ months, with the Grand Hazing crammed into a 27-hour induced labor – woohoo! Despite it all, I had made it; I finally belonged to this amazing sisterhood. I now appreciate all I do for my family in a whole new light. Who could have explained to me in advance, the tide-like swing of challenges and experiences Motherhood would bring? From the ‘seemingly-impossible-how-will-I/we-survive’ times to the ‘this-is-so-awesome-I-love-being-a-mom’ times, I have learned to appreciate myself and my family, not to mention a startling variety of my cunningly adaptive coping skills.

Gratitude and Appreciation from Other Moms
There is gratitude and appreciation that other Moms, even complete strangers, show us every day. The support we find in each other is a form of gratitude and appreciation. I will never forget an older woman who approached me while I wore my baby on a front pack in the depths of my 4-week-old, post-partum ‘what-now-blurry-eyed-silent-tear-fest’ I had going in front of the iceberg lettuce display at my local grocery store. She said with a grandmotherly arm squeeze and smile, ‘You are a good mama!’ Oh, the tears of relief! Finally, someone said good job – and they don’t even know me! Apparently, I needed that appreciation. So many of us do, and we deserve it.

Listen Sister (as in, sister of that awesome sorority, Nowa-Baby-Momma): if you aren’t grateful for the amazing woman and Mother that you are, it’s high time you started showing that chic in the mirror some love. I appreciate and am grateful for you. You are helping shape future citizens of the world, people my kids will grow up with, maybe befriend or become neighbors with, go to school or work with. It’s not just very important work, it is critical work. Now if only society-at-large, mainstream media and the commercial sectors would catch on.

Until then, we may just have to give ourselves and each other that gold star every day, be ready to see gratitude and appreciation in the littlest things, and to enjoy one adventure-filled day at a time. I celebrate Mother’s Day because I am grateful for my Mom, grateful for my family – the reason I am called a Mom – but darn if I don’t love receiving some flowers and a crayon drawing from my little ones.

So, thank you, Moms. I hope you have a very Happy Mother’s Day.

I mean, sure we all “choose” our family in who we choose to surround ourselves with and build relationships with, but as an adoptee, my family chose me. Obviously they chose well, right? But in all seriousness, it means that I didn’t share much biology with my parents.

I have crazy curly red hair, and my mom coached me as a child to answer the question of “Where did you get your hair?” with an answered “The milkman.” I didn’t get the joke until I was in college. But despite the fact that both of my adoptive grandmothers were redheads, it wasn’t their DNA that informed my hair color. My eldest will never wonder where her curls came from, nor will either girl doubt where they got the shape of their mouth. How strange and different their lives will be, with just that tiny amount of knowledge. 

I feel like I’m cheating sometimes, because I know my own personality and so I realize that I should probably treat my kids the way I would like to be handled. When my oldest gets sad, I usually snuggle her without talking to her, because I don’t really like people talking to me when I’m sad. But then I second-guess myself all the time- is doing what *I* would like to have done really the right option? I hope so! But I don’t know.

In the same way, I didn’t know what to expect with either pregnancy. My mom had shared my struggle with infertility, but she never carried a pregnancy to term, and so after a certain point, I was on my own. I leaned on my mama friends to hear about birth stories, and paid really close attention to the books, but the details of my own birth were pretty much limited to my birth weight and a touch of jaundice, which apparently is genetic and not the result of smoking through pregnancy. Still, I think often about how strange it must be to know that you were born after 40 hours of labor or that your mom had Braxton-Hicks contractions.

I wonder a lot about what it would be like to have all the information my daughters will have, to grow up with the knowledge that they might actually turn into their mother. Yikes! Or, knowing that, no matter how much they might wish that lady in the grocery store was their “real” mom, that in reality, I am for sure, unequivocally, their “real” mom. Bummer, right? Because that was totally a fun game whenever I felt like my parents were being unfair. It’s almost mean for their sakes that they won’t get to wonder and play the games I used to. Being adopted does come with an awful lot of good pieces, like knowing that you are really and truly wanted by your family, that you were never an inconvenient surprise to your parents. Hopefully my children will know that they were much wanted and are much loved either way. But it’s still confusing, because I don’t know how to relate to people I’m related to!

But then, I guess that’s true of parenting in general. None of us really know what we’re doing, right?

As I’m sure you’ve all noticed, there’s no manual for raising kids. It’s one of those things that hits home hardest when they let you walk out of the hospital with a baby… by yourselves. They just let you walk out! Madness. I still didn’t know what I was doing by the time the first month was over. Eventually, by month three, having survived the ‘fourth trimester,’ I started thinking about how I was going to parent this lovely daughter of mine. So I started looking around- I spent a lot of time reaching out to the mothers I’d admired over the years- my friends’ moms, the mothers from our church back home that were so inspiring when I was a newlywed. I talked to my mom, my grandmothers, my aunts, my cousins, and thought about what things about them I wanted to emulate- and what things I didn’t. I read books, I read blogs, I gathered information like a sponge.

And then I started copying.

A friend of mine has a tag for her online journal called “my mothering skills are pasted on,” and it always gave me a good giggle, right up until I discovered just how true that was about my own parenting experience. I knew nothing! I took notes from my friends on breastfeeding, and notes on diapering, and notes on introducing solids. Honest to God, I had to have one of my friends reinstall my carseat. And my nanny has had so much more experience with children than I have that I daily rely on her advice regarding discipline and potty training. Heck, I *still* poll my Facebook friends for ideas when I am at a loss- which is often.

Sometimes, I feel like that is why I was so eager to get back to work in both cases. At work, I know what I am doing, and I’d like to think I’m pretty competent. At motherhood? I had no clue. I was an only child, so I had no siblings to practice on. An adoptee with no mom to give me pregnancy and childbirth advice. When I was in college, I started volunteering at a Crisis Nursery in order to learn how to take care of children. But parenting? Let’s just say it’s nothing like a two-hour a week volunteer gig. I did have the basics down, though apparently every child has blowouts, but I was painfully aware of my inexperience from the first moment I looked at my firstborn.

So, I copied people who seemed to have it all together. I copied moms whose tenderness with their children touched me, and moms whose children grew up to be my adventurous independent friends. I copied my best friend’s love for outdoor play, and made sure my girls were spending half an hour a day outdoors regardless of the weather. I read the books to my children that my mother read to me, and sometimes wondered to myself “What would Ma Ingalls do?” That was how I wound up hand washing cloth diapers one afternoon, by the way, which I do not recommend unless you have a very strong stomach. I watched my crafty friends and tried to copy their playdough and pipe cleaner creations, watching their Pinterest boards like a hawk.

And then, suddenly, one day, I found myself dispensing advice. “Nap when the baby naps!” I would say, as if I knew what I was talking about. Oh? Airplane travel? I can help you with that! Let me tell you about the time I flew to New Zealand with two under two! You need childcare recommendations? Let me just tell you how I feel about daycares and nanny-shares and everything in between.

But really, though, just fake it till you make it. You’ll get there. No one gets a manual, I promise.

A week and a half ago, a very close friend of ours was killed in an avalanche at Stevens Pass here in the NW. Three were killed that day, one girl survived. You probably heard about it in the news. Chris was a friend but more like family. My husband has worked with Chris at Stevens Pass for 8 years. To say he was devastated by the tragic news wouldn’t even begin to cover it. I was in complete shock when I heard it was one of our friends.

He was 30 and just beginning his life. He was full of commitment, passion and zeal. At his memorial, he was labeled “The Ambassador of All Things Rad.” And that was very fitting. He lived life to the fullest and was an example of making every day count.

In the wee hours of the morning just a week after the avalanche, I received a phone call from a friend that said another close friend of mine was in a coma. And the doctor’s report is not good.

Are you kidding me, I thought. Is this a joke? I can’t take much more. (And on a lighter note, last Friday I broke my big toe.)

What is happening here? It’s called Life and right now it sucks. Some moments I can only stare at the wall. Other moments, I can’t stop telling my husband and son how much I love them. And I can’t kiss them or hold them tight enough. Because if God forbid something happen to one of them right now more than a surface scratch, I am pretty sure I would lose it. Whatever IT is, I would lose it and probably never find it.

I get into ruts. I get complacent. I get lazy. I use excuses.

And I waste precious precious time.

Time that I could be using to reconcile a friendship, to ask someone for forgiveness, to tell someone I’m sorry.

Time that could be used to say I love you, or help someone that is needy, or share kindness.

Now is the only moment we can count on. We may not have tomorrow.

I hate that saying that goes, “You don’t know what you have till it’s gone.” And it makes me angry, but sadly it’s too true.

What do we have in our lives that we are taking advantage of? Sadly, tragic things do happen.

It sobers me up to lose a friend. And to get a second dose in just a short week, it magnifies the sadness and realities of life.

Life can be long, it can be short. What will you do and how will you live?

…ahead lies a fork in the road. I know which direction I will take. There’s no time like the present. We are all subjects of a natural cycle and what we do with the time we are given is our choice.

-Chris Rudolph
1981-2012

We will miss you, friend.

Please don’t give me your sympathy. Chris, like me, would just request that you live your life. Live it loud. Make some noise. Play hard and work even less. Tell the truth, do what you love, and let the world know who you are.

First of all, I will start by saying to these people that I do understand their heart and where they are coming from. But let’s be honest. I’ve actually been in line at the grocery store with my screaming 3 month old that is hungry and just had a blowout. I also didn’t have a change of clothes OR a diaper. I had to get groceries that day but waited too long in the day so now I was at the grocery store with all the other 9,000 people that needed food at 5pm. I’m bouncing around trying to soothe my son while unloading the cart. He throws his binky across the floor and I didn’t even plan to go pick it up.

“Pay and get out of here. Pay and get out of here. Just get to the car. And then get home.” Focus.

Meanwhile, I’m getting this flashbacks of how peaceful and easy the shopping trips of the past were. Ahhhh, being alone at the grocery store, the shopping mall. No interruptions. No snack breaks. No leaking through my shirt. No trying to find a place to nurse.  Can I just PUH LEEESE press a button and be transported back to those days? Can I click my feet twice and just make this all go away?

“Maam, are you ok?” Huh?

The older lady across the aisle was staring at me with a concerned look. I could tell she was a little worried about me. But I was…

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. Oh, I’m good, everything is great.” Riiiiiiight. She knew the truth, I didn’t have to say it.

“Well hun, I just want to tell you that it only gets better from here. You’ll get through this.”

Yeah whatever lady. Just pay and get out of here, I’m thinking again.

Hours later when I had put out all the blazing fires, I was alone and thinking back to earlier. How did it get so crazy so fast at the store? Things really spiraled out of control and I thought everything was fine until all hell broke loose.

Then I remembered what the lady said. Things will get better. Good. I am COUNTING ON IT LADY!! 

That was more than 2 years ago. My son is almost 3. I have seen the later days and things did not get better. Why did she say that?

I feel like people say this because they want to be the hero in the moment. It’s all about them really. They see me struggling and it makes them uncomfortable. Maybe I’m causing a scene with my 2 yr old throwing his 5th tantrum in the Target aisle and all eyes are on me. Or whatever.

I just have never felt like they are saying it from an authentic place. Is that statement supposed to change my entire day? Oh, things get better from here. Yippee….(as I skip happily out of the grocery store.)

Don’t freakin tell me things will get better. WHY? Because you are not God. You don’t know if or when things WILL ACTUALLY get better for me. Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. And that’s the truth.

Maybe she does have good intentions but here’s what would have actually felt more authentic to say.

“Hey. I see you look like you’re having a hard time today. I can relate. I’ve been there. I know how hard it is. You’ll have some bad days, you’ll have some good days. Just know you aren’t alone. You seem like a great mom and that you really care about your kids. That’s the most important thing.”

Or something like that. Is it just me? This would have been WAY more encouraging. It reminds me of when someone asks me, “How are you?” We reply, “good” without thinking about it. Do they even care? Do I even care that they asked? Why did I say good when things are actually terrible? Because no one cares, it’s just a formality. We’re all walking around with our heads up our a**es and no one cares anymore.

*on a side note*, when my husband are were first dating, he would ask me how I was doing. I would say “oh, good.” Then he’d say, “how are you really doing?”. He’d repeat it until I actually answered the question. It’s a question that can lead to hours of honest conversation, if we care and are willing to listen.

For me, this is just a call to action. A friend at church was struggling with her son’s first ear infection. He only wanted Mommy. She was tired from work and from being the sole person that her son would allow to be soothed by. I didn’t tell her “it gets better from here”. I gave her a hug, a long one, and told her to “hang in there, it’s tough, sometimes it sucks, I’ve been there, I’m here for you, and you’ll get through it, and then we’ll go out for a girls night.”

Sometimes we just want to be acknowledged for how hard it is. For the fact that we give and give and give of ourselves to seemingly get nothing back but a quick smile, maybe some cuddles, and an “I love you Dada.” (This is where we are at right now. My son looks in my eyes and says, I love you Dada, and then runs away laughing histerically. It was cute at first, but sometimes it actually hurts.)

We want to be recognized for all that we do, all that we are. TODAY. My life is a huge pile of messes. To-do lists not finished, laundry not folded, dishes not washed. Saying it gets better from here implies to me that where I am today is not beautiful. That it’s not where I want to be. But it IS. It’s where I am. It’s absolutely where I want to be. And it’s perfect.

It may or may not get better from here. I’m ok with that. I surrender to what today is and what tomorrow brings.

Something popped into my head and I started talking about my mother. The friend I was meeting with is a relatively new friend and didn’t know much background on me. I started sharing my Mom’s story from marriage & kids to divorce & depression. She was nodding her head during the whole story like she somehow not only understood but could relate in a  very personal way. And she could as she shared later how similar her Mom’s story was to mine. Amazing.

I remember a time about 10 years ago, when my parents were just starting to talk about divorce, that I swore up and down that I would NEVER be like my Mom. I would not make the same choices and I would in no way end up like her. I despised and resented not her but her choices. Every decision I made I would ask myself if it was something my Mom would choose. And I worked hard to be different. Now I was already naturally very different. We are different in personality and in so many other ways.

I struggled and struggled for years scared to death that I would become her. Now on the flip side, there are many admirable traits she has that I do want to have myself. Just wanted to say that too.

One day, a wise friend of mine took me out for coffee. She said she needed to be brutally honest with me. I said ok, I give you permission to lay it all out there. (This lady knows my Mom well too)

Then she says, “You are going to struggle forever with your identity if you don’t do this one thing.”

“What’s that?”, I ask.

To my shock she responds, “You need to recognize and acknowledge that you ARE a lot like your Mom. And you need to surrender to that. That does not mean that you will turn out just like her. It is your choices you make every day that determine the person you are and where you go with your life. You get to choose that everyday.”

I was blown away. I never thought about that. At first I was angry that she was telling me I was like my Mom. I went home and thought about our conversation. It did make sense somewhat. I did see how I was a lot like my Mom and how I was very different too. I was just SO scared to make the same mistakes that I thought I needed to make drastic and radical separation from who she was.

The problem with that was that by running from her, I was running from myself. It was a race I could and would never win.

It took me a while to sort things out. After I did, I remember the next time I saw my Mom. I couldn’t believe all the amazing things I saw in her all of a sudden. I remember feeling freedom.

Freedom. I knew I was like her. I knew I was also in control of my life and how I wanted to live it. My resentment towards her (and thus myself) left.

Now being a Mother, it’s amazing how much of her I see in myself. Daily I think of what I admire in her and how I can integrate those things into my life. I notice what’s also not working or the not-so-great qualities and I work on making those better.

I can’t worry everyday about the woman and mother I might or might not be in 30 years. What I CAN do everyday is focus on what’s here…now. Be in the moment. Make the right choices. Love as much as I can. Listen.

Then I just trust that if I live like this everyday, in 30 years, I’ll be right where I want to be!

Although she was far from perfect, she was a fabulous Mom. Everyone probably has their own ideas of what makes a great mother. And we all come from various backgrounds raised with different beliefs and a vast range of values. Maybe your Mom bought you tons of toys. Is that what you remember about her? That you had every new toy that was popular?

Or maybe your Mom bought you the nicest clothes. Only name brand and only the best so you looked your absolute best. Maybe you lived in a big house with a nice car. It’s funny to think about these things. I know a lot of people that think these are the things that matter. How much money they make, what they get to spend it on…they care about how big the pile of toys is underneath the tree at Christmas time, or how big of a birthday party to throw for their kids every year.

I had a lot of these things growing up. And what do I remember the MOST? I remember my Mom always being there for me. She always had time to talk. She waited up for me when I came home, just in case I needed to talk. I could call her or go to her ANYTIME for anything. And she listened. Sometimes she had advice or tried to fix my situation. Mostly, she just listened. She was an unconditional listener.

I can’t even being to tell you what this meant to me growing up. For as long as I can remember, she was always there for me. If she was cooking and I needed her, she stopped and gave me her full attention. She’d turn off the TV, put her book down, get off the phone, or stop what she was doing…..all to lend an ear.

She wasn’t just lending an ear, she was opening her heart. She wasn’t just sitting there with my physically, she was 100% present and IN THE MOMENT.

To this day, my Mom is the ultimate listener. I know I have a long way to grow still when it comes to listening. Sometimes I get impatient if people don’t get to the point quickly, or they go on and on telling stories.

I feel like this was the greatest gift my Mom ever gave me. I’d choose all of that time with my Mom over any of the fancy clothes, presents, big houses, nice cars, vacations, or trips to Disneyland.

In the busy craziness of life, I find myself preoccupied with so many things that distract me from my son. I should say, I let these things distract me. They only have control over me if I let them, and to be honest, it’s a struggle. I can easily be caught up with my husband, emails, TV, the phone, Facebook, cleaning the house, making dinner, and my super long never ending to-do list.

Next thing I know, my son is pulling on my arm and saying “No No” to the computer. “Mama, read book now pweeeeeze, Mama.”

I have a long way to go to be the perfect Mom, if there is such a thing. LOL. Just kidding. I know perfect is unattainable. I can choose however, to be the best I can be and that would include giving my son the best because he deserves it. Someday he will be grown up and have a family of his own.

My time as the most influential person in his life is NOW. He needs me to listen now. He needs me to care now. He needs me to be present now.

Thanks Mom for all you did for me. I will always treasure our time together, past, present, and future. I love you!