By the time you read this, I’ve just turned 29. I’m a year away from being as old as my mother was when she had me, the youngest of three. I keep thinking of myself as some young buck—how could someone my age possibly have children? I’m basically a child myself!! I know logically it’s possible but the thought of it is incomprehensible to me. I’ve got dreams, dammit! I’ve got goals I still need to accomplish!
My mother’s birthday is a few days after mine on the 30th, so we’ve always been birthday buddies—though she’s usually pretty happy to let me take the spotlight for myself. That’s part of what parents do, I suppose, make way for their kids to come forward in the world, but as I’ve been getting older I’ve been thinking a lot about my life vs my parents’, of what their lives were like when they were my age. It’s a part of growing up, as I understand, realizing your parents are just people. When you’re younger they seem like these strange entities above you that control everything, enforce rules, and make food appear from nowhere. Now that I’m their age when they were having a family… It’s definitely made me shift the way I see them—and myself!
I don’t know what goals my mom had at my age. I don’t know what dreams she had. All I know is she had three kids and a husband who traveled for work more than she cared for. I know she was a cardiac nurse who worked in the hospital, I know we would go on vacations and she would lose sleep trying to keep us rowdy lunatics safe, and I know she loved us kids so so so much.
Recently, my parents and I dug into some artifacts from when all three of us kids were born. It was really fun! I got to see our baby books, read some greeting cards my folks kept from back then, and (my favorite part) see some of their calendars from those years. I see all the doctor’s appointments, all the different church events, family plans, everything my mother had to keep track of. One thing I noticed on the planner were “D” and “N” written on various days. I asked her what they were for and she explained that was her nursing schedule, working days or nights. She had a specific schedule set up to work nights on the weekends so that she could spend her days during the week with us kids. She did this while helping put my father through seminary.
As a kid, the main thing I knew was us kids always spent our Sunday afternoons on the porch so Mommy could sleep.
There is a concept primarily associated with women–specifically wives and mothers–of invisible labor. A woman’s labor isn’t seen, but it is expected. A husband expects and sees a clean home and food on the table, not the hours of wrangling children while also managing to do household chores. Kids, I would say, also don’t see this. I didn’t understand the balancing act of maintaining a house when I was four, I just saw my mom doing mom things. You know, like a MomTM does.
My mom is no longer a nurse. She worked for many years running a family and marriage ministry. Along the way she also went to seminary and is now an ordained minister in the RCA. While she no longer runs that ministry, she does still preach and is very involved with the outreach and food pantry programs at her own church. Between her and my father, they’ve got a full event staff ready to throw a party for the whole neighborhood. She knows the names of just about everyone who comes through the food pantry and will ask people about the folks who aren’t there. She’s gone to the hospital many times to check on folks from there, just to be with them in dangerous times.
I think that’s my favorite thing about my mom, is just how much she truly cares. It doesn’t matter if your family, if you even go to this church, she is ready to help. She has such a heart for people and making sure people are getting the things they need. I’ve passed so many friends to her for any number of reasons, from food prep to house hunting. I’ve had so many friends over for holidays because my mother keeps an open table at all times.
She will feed you. That’s not negotiable, trust me.
Another thing I adore about my mother is just how ridiculous she is. She is so funny and loooooooves to exaggerate. One time my mom and sister got lunch together just before I had an appointment at my sister’s clinic. I asked my mom why she didn’t swing by when she knew I would be at the clinic and she told me my appointment started when she had to be at a funeral. However, when she told my father this story later that night she said, “I was accused and interrogated about my whereabouts today, asked why I didn’t love Sam enough to stop and see them!” (Flagrant lies, all of it.)
If I’m ever asked where my over dramatic nature comes from, I know exactly who to point at.
My mother and I haven’t always gotten along, of course. I imagine every parent has had difficulties with their kids at some point in the process, and as much as I love my folks they’re not perfect. Certainly there were struggles in the teen years, but when you add a rough and forced coming out on top of that, things get dicey. It was a painful time. My parents became an unsafe place to talk for a long time. I still struggle with an instinct to hide things from them to this day. I think they did their best given the situation—they certainly could’ve done much worse. It definitely hurt that they wouldn’t understand me, but I didn’t doubt at any point that they loved me.
Our lives went on, though. I went to college! I was discovering myself, getting to live a life with waaaaay more agency than before. I was living in a community with people who weren’t just from my small home town. My parents were empty nesters, wondering what their life was going to be next. I lived in college dorms, apartments, and group housing, they moved states and opened a bed and breakfast! When our lives reconvened properly we had both changed and grown. I was now an adult with my own ideas and ways of doing things and they were no longer the ones in charge of making sure I survive. It was definitely a bit odd reassessing that relationship, like a strange ache around the shapes of old childhood fears. I do think we’ve done a great job with it, though. I’m happy to say that I’m very close with my folks and we have healthy boundaries. Sometimes you can have it all!
That’s another thing I love about my mom, the way she brings our family together. Growing up us siblings have had some squabbles, for sure, but we’ve never been truly against each other. Any frustration was always with the understanding that we always loved each other. The phrase “that’s your sibling and your friend” was a consistent refrain in the house—and it worked! My siblings are the best people in my life and I cannot imagine my life without them. I know how badly my mom wanted that for us kids and she made sure it happened. She is the first to put in a plan for everyone to get together.
My mom works so hard. She is a very detailed and thorough human being and does not half ass things, sometimes to her detriment. She herself will admit she’s not great at self care, and who can blame her? There’s always so much that needs to be done! To use church lingo, “she has the heart of a servant.” I just hope she knows her worth isn’t measured by her works and that we can be more ready to jump up and help her before she needs to ask.
I love my mother. She is so brilliant and so kind. I know for a fact she’s going to read this because her and my dad always support the things I do.
So Mom, sorry for the deception. I don’t know what dreams you had when you were my age, but I know kids dream of getting to have a mom like you. I love you so much. Happy Birthday.
Sam is unsure what exact words describe them best: Lunatic has been used, Gothic Romantic is apt, and Big ol’ Nerd is reductive but true. Mostly they just like stories in whatever form stories can be found. Sam specializes in Frankenstein, running “The Uncanny Productions” on YouTube, but they also dabble with podcasts, singing, and theatre as well. They have a DVD collection that’s long outgrown its shelf, a coffin they use as a desk, and an unrelenting joy for things that are spooky, ridiculous, or magical.
