Home is Where Your Mom Is
When I was a kid I believed my mom could do anything. As an adult I realize it's because that's what good parents do: they shield their children from worry and keep their world spinning no matter what.
Growing up my mom cooked dinner every night (there weren't really restaurants in my hometown and it's not like we would've gone out anyway). My mom was like the original Chopped champion: she could open the pantry and make something out of whatever was there. She went grocery shopping every two weeks, and other than the random run for milk or bread those groceries had to last us until the next store run. What I didn't know as a kid is my mom worried the food wouldn't last two weeks. She worried when we had friends over (we often had an extra kid or two hanging around) there wouldn't be enough to feed everyone. But it was always enough. And like a good mom she never let us know she was worried.
When I was a kid I thought my parents had a perfect marriage. I don't remember them fighting. I do recall my mom being irritated as Dad hovered over her shoulder when she was paying bills. They might've snipped at one another a little bit then. But I don't recall my parents fighting. My dad was always complimenting her and snuggling her, and I thought they were great. As an adult I know my parents did not have a perfect marriage, but they didn't let me know that. Every marriage has challenges (especially when you're married 43 years like they were), but my parents kept their family first despite any challenges.
My mom was, for all intents and purposes, a single mom. My dad worked the afternoon shift in a coal mine, so he left around 1 p.m. every day and returned home around midnight. He had a day or two off a month (usually on the weekend), so we didn't usually see my dad during the week. My mom managed our home, four children, however many friends were always there, a gaggle of pets and never wavered.
My mother is the ultimate domestic engineer. Our home was spotless when I was growing up. I remember her doing things like ironing curtains and being on her hands and knees scrubbing floors on a regular basis. If I'd wanted to I could've worn the same clothes multiple times a week because she did laundry every day. I know as an adult that she wasn't perfect, but she faked it beautifully. As a child I thought she was Superwoman because she was. Or at least I thought she was, and that's all that matters.
In the last three weeks as I've stayed home with my family I've really struggled. I feel like I'm not focusing enough on my work or my family, and I feel like I'm failing at both. But channeling my Mom has kept me sane. I've been cleaning something every day, and it relaxes me. I've been cooking some of my favorites of mom's recipes, and it calms my soul. This morning my son and I made my mom's fudge, which was one of my dad's favorites. I don't really even like fudge that much, but the action of cooking it was like releasing a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
I've read a lot about how we should evaluate what's important when we get to the other end of this crisis. I'm not good at slowing down, nor do I often take time to evaluate what's important. And maybe when this is all said and done I'll go back to moving 150 mph and won't learn anything. I hope not, but it's possible.
But when (if) my young son remembers this time I hope he remembers that his mom was trying to do it all. I hope he remembers that mommy was working hard at her job, but she also took him on bike rides, played with him and together we cooked his G's recipes. I hope when this is over I've faked it as well as my mom, and my son thinks I'm Superwoman.
Growing up my mom cooked dinner every night (there weren't really restaurants in my hometown and it's not like we would've gone out anyway). My mom was like the original Chopped champion: she could open the pantry and make something out of whatever was there. She went grocery shopping every two weeks, and other than the random run for milk or bread those groceries had to last us until the next store run. What I didn't know as a kid is my mom worried the food wouldn't last two weeks. She worried when we had friends over (we often had an extra kid or two hanging around) there wouldn't be enough to feed everyone. But it was always enough. And like a good mom she never let us know she was worried.
When I was a kid I thought my parents had a perfect marriage. I don't remember them fighting. I do recall my mom being irritated as Dad hovered over her shoulder when she was paying bills. They might've snipped at one another a little bit then. But I don't recall my parents fighting. My dad was always complimenting her and snuggling her, and I thought they were great. As an adult I know my parents did not have a perfect marriage, but they didn't let me know that. Every marriage has challenges (especially when you're married 43 years like they were), but my parents kept their family first despite any challenges.
My mom was, for all intents and purposes, a single mom. My dad worked the afternoon shift in a coal mine, so he left around 1 p.m. every day and returned home around midnight. He had a day or two off a month (usually on the weekend), so we didn't usually see my dad during the week. My mom managed our home, four children, however many friends were always there, a gaggle of pets and never wavered.
My mother is the ultimate domestic engineer. Our home was spotless when I was growing up. I remember her doing things like ironing curtains and being on her hands and knees scrubbing floors on a regular basis. If I'd wanted to I could've worn the same clothes multiple times a week because she did laundry every day. I know as an adult that she wasn't perfect, but she faked it beautifully. As a child I thought she was Superwoman because she was. Or at least I thought she was, and that's all that matters.
In the last three weeks as I've stayed home with my family I've really struggled. I feel like I'm not focusing enough on my work or my family, and I feel like I'm failing at both. But channeling my Mom has kept me sane. I've been cleaning something every day, and it relaxes me. I've been cooking some of my favorites of mom's recipes, and it calms my soul. This morning my son and I made my mom's fudge, which was one of my dad's favorites. I don't really even like fudge that much, but the action of cooking it was like releasing a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
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| Mom's pot roast |
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| Mom's delicious potato salad |
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| Mom's fudge |
But when (if) my young son remembers this time I hope he remembers that his mom was trying to do it all. I hope he remembers that mommy was working hard at her job, but she also took him on bike rides, played with him and together we cooked his G's recipes. I hope when this is over I've faked it as well as my mom, and my son thinks I'm Superwoman.
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