I was asked on Mother's Day, what I liked best about being a Mom. I like everything about it. I always wanted to be a Mom. It is the only thing I ever wanted to do. I mothered my baby sister. When I was in junior high school and had to take those dumb occupation tests, I was upset that Mother was not listed as an option. I chose secretary. Those skills are needed for Mothering as well. Actually, there isn't a course that can be taken that can't be applied in Mothering.
I finally settled on architecture. I thought that I could design people's house at home and still be with my kids. I made it through one year and then became pregnant and stopped to be home with my baby.
When my babies were little, I didn't want to put them down. They would sleep in my front pack or on my chest. I never used a baby seat. I held my babies. I even held my babies when I was driving if they were fussy (it wasn't illegal then and my car didn't even have seat belts).
I eventually ended up in the health care field. There is a lot of mothering in health care. I mother my own kids as well as everybody elses. They call me the baby whisperer.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Grandma Betsy
Last week would have been my Grandma Betsy's 99th birthday. She wanted to live long enough to see the new century and she did. She passed away January 3, 2000. She never was a American citizen. She lived off of my Grandpa's Dutch pension. Her brother passed away the fall before and she let us know that she would be next. I gave a brief tribute about her life at her funeral. The stories that I told were taken from the conversations that we had on the day of her brother's funeral.
When she was a little girl, she was playing with her three brothers in the front yard. The boys were mostly playing and she, being the only girl, felt left out. She jumped up on a tree stump and pretended to see her mother returning from cleaning houses. She teased her brothers by saying that Mom was coming and they all had snotty noses. The boys stopped playing, ran into the house and quickly washed their faces. Eighty years later, she stil regretted teasing her brothers.
When she was a young mother, she had some terrible experiences during the war. She told me stories of how she sent her oldest son, my Dad, to look in the potato fields after they were harvested to find any left overs. She stole a blanket from the Germans and cut it up to make Sunday suits for her boys (My Dad remembers that suit as being very itchy). She was away from home once when the bombs starting falling. She remembered running down the street with her newborn baby. She always thought that I, as a young mother, had things much harder than she did.
She had a job at a hospital, here after she immigrated. She worked in the nursery. She would spend her breaks making sure that all of the babies got their turn at being held and rocked to sleep. She said that there was something beautiful about every one of those babies. I believe that there is something beautiful about everyone. For some people. it requires looking very deep.
Another job she had was monogramming fur coats. I remember stacks and stacks of fur coats at her house. I barely got to touch them, but once, she let my Mom try one on. She very carefully unpicked the lining and then penciled out her design. She would embroidered the ladies initials in the silk lining. She only had one shot at it or it was ruined. She told me to always take your time to do your very best work.
I like to think of her with Grandpa and her family in heaven. She finally got to meet her sister, who died at birth, before Grandma was born. I hope she is happy, looking down on me, with how I have applied the things that she taught me.
When she was a little girl, she was playing with her three brothers in the front yard. The boys were mostly playing and she, being the only girl, felt left out. She jumped up on a tree stump and pretended to see her mother returning from cleaning houses. She teased her brothers by saying that Mom was coming and they all had snotty noses. The boys stopped playing, ran into the house and quickly washed their faces. Eighty years later, she stil regretted teasing her brothers.
When she was a young mother, she had some terrible experiences during the war. She told me stories of how she sent her oldest son, my Dad, to look in the potato fields after they were harvested to find any left overs. She stole a blanket from the Germans and cut it up to make Sunday suits for her boys (My Dad remembers that suit as being very itchy). She was away from home once when the bombs starting falling. She remembered running down the street with her newborn baby. She always thought that I, as a young mother, had things much harder than she did.
She had a job at a hospital, here after she immigrated. She worked in the nursery. She would spend her breaks making sure that all of the babies got their turn at being held and rocked to sleep. She said that there was something beautiful about every one of those babies. I believe that there is something beautiful about everyone. For some people. it requires looking very deep.
Another job she had was monogramming fur coats. I remember stacks and stacks of fur coats at her house. I barely got to touch them, but once, she let my Mom try one on. She very carefully unpicked the lining and then penciled out her design. She would embroidered the ladies initials in the silk lining. She only had one shot at it or it was ruined. She told me to always take your time to do your very best work.
I like to think of her with Grandpa and her family in heaven. She finally got to meet her sister, who died at birth, before Grandma was born. I hope she is happy, looking down on me, with how I have applied the things that she taught me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
