So NOT June Cleaver

Me & Mom...Corpus Christi, Texas 1977 Yes, that's eight-year-old me hamming it up on the motorcycle

"You are terrifying and strange and beautiful; something not everyone knows how to love." ~Warsan Shire

My mother and I had a difficult relationship. She was not June Cleaver and we were definitely not living a "Leave it to Beaver" life. She was too broken to know how to raise a child, and as a result many bits and pieces of me were also broken. As a child, I kept waiting for the morning I'd wake up from the nightmare, wondering why my childhood looked absolutely nothing like anything seen on, where children had "normal" parents they lived with and did average things, like being tucked into bed or having family dinner. Once I realized I wasn't going to wake up from some bad dream, I painstakingly glued all of those shattered bits back together in order to find some sense of "wholeness." It hasn't been pretty, nor easy, but I was determined not to allow that cycle of damage to continue in regards to my own children. I am glad to say both of my girls were raised in a loving, nurturing environment, (although I was ALSO not June Cleaver) protected from the monsters of my childhood. And somewhere along the way,  I learned how to forgive my mother for all of the things she was not and appreciate the beauty and light she expressed in her own unique, dramatic Leslie fashion.

In January, when I went to San Fransisco to say my final goodbyes to mama, on the last day I sat on a bench in Golden Gate Park and played the song below, which truly captures how I feel about her. I don't know what she would see if she were alive to look at me today, but I'd like to think that somewhere in Heaven she is looking down on me with pride. Yesterday her youngest granddaughter (my youngest child) graduated from college surrounded by family who adore her, professors who respect her, and peers who admire her sassy spirit and whip-smart intelligence (which is the reason I wrote no blog article, as I spent the day celebrating this happy, happy event). My mother's oldest granddaughter is carrying the first great-grandchild and will make an amazing mother. I hope both of these major milestones would fill mama with love and joy.

To my daughters...it is an honor being your mother.
To my mother...I miss you every single day.
To Mama Schaefer...thank you for stepping in where my own mother could not and loving me like I was yours.
To Aunt Mattie...I couldn't have gotten this far without you.

Finally, I wish a happy Mother's Day to all the mothers "out there".

Love,
A.