Mother's Day

One time I took a vacation and drove with a friend to Texas. We made a sightseeing tour of the trip- CT, NY, PA, thru the Blue Ridge Mountains, spent 3 days in Shenandoah National Park... We mostly camped. It was summer (in the south.) It was hot as holy fire, so it was ridiculously cheap to camp. When we hit Nashville, we stayed in a hotel for a day or two. Then we moved on: saw Graceland, took a bath in Hot Springs, Arkansas, and after almost two weeks made our way to Houston.

It was an amazing time, but once in Texas, I got the worst stomach bug of my life. (I guess it should come as no surprise that my body rejected some aspect of Texas that I have never specifically identified.) Anyway, after the Independence Day fireworks, I couldn't stop puking and, well... using the bathroom for other purposes too...

I didn't know what to do. I was very dehydrated and due to fly home in 2 days. Starting to think that i might need to bring myself to the ER, I was terrified about presenting to a Level One trauma center- a teaching hospital- the first week of July. (July as some of you might know is when med students become "doctors," and more terrifying, the "first year doctors" become "residents," the medical staff in charge of the care of hospitalized patients.)

At the time, I was a pretty competent, independent-minded (read: cocky) ICU nurse. But when I started to decompensate because I couldn't keep food or fluid from shooting out of my body, I started to panic. Near tears, I called my parents home:

"Mommy... (sniff, sniff) I'm sick... I don't know what to do..."

Nance rattled off a list of ways to stay hemodynamically stable until i could board a plane... "Try some saltines and Pedialyte® pops...if they don't stay down, don't eat anything else until you get home... you won't starve in 24 hours." There were several more brilliant notions I can't recall now. I remember wondering how she could offer such extensive advice in less than a moment's notice: Did she keep a list of first aid and GI remedies near the phone for this type of incident?!?

Truth is, it didn't matter what she told me, it was really just her voice I was seeking. I needed her to tell me that I would be okay. My mom is crazy-good in crisis mode. She turns drama, tragedy, and despair into methodical, routine troubleshooting ventures. She worries endlessly about her children, but has taught us a non-alarmist approach to anxiety, illness, and injury. Her calm-in-crisis and her ability to communicate real remedies are just two examples of her fortitude and overwhelming capability.

Aside from sharing an aptitude for crisis management, my mother and I are very different in style, inclination, and talents. Her taste in collectibles and scented makeup confounds me. The degree to which I am able to ignore clutter and grime in my personal space leaves her flabbergasted. She sets the table 2 nights before the dinner party. I am ironing the tablecloth- naked except for a towel- about to jump in the shower as my guests arrive. Mom and i know each other too well. When we tease one another, we have to be careful that the jibes aren't too sharp. She admires me and I admire her. But we do it perhaps more privately than either of us should.

That brings us to the purpose of this post...

DISCLAIMER: Mother's Day seems like such a contrived holiday. Mother's Day after it has been pouring rain for 7 consecutive days seems like a sham! But if it takes a Hallmark® holiday on a chilly, cloudy, water-logged day to get me to finally post about my mom, I guess Woodrow Wilson made the right call on this one!

More and more frequently, I am struck (as I was that puke-filled weekend in Houston) not only by how well I have been loved by her, but how deeply and abundantly I love her... My mom has given me everything that she knew to give and it is more than I could have known to want. She has taught me well what it is to put fears and insecurities aside; to fight odds, to face life; to love hard and love deep. She has taught me literally and figuratively the importance prioritizing children and relationships: building confidence and independence is as much about swaddling, cradling, rocking, and singing sweet lullabies as it is about taking the training wheels off and letting someone feel the pain of the fall- when getting up after falling is the next thing that must be accomplished.

I would enter Nance into a contest and invite you to think of my mother HIGH on the totem pole of the great, mythological creatures celebrated in Robitussin® and Tide® commercials, but that is not what I think Mother's Day should be about. Most mothers, my mom included- aren't herculean. She is not some magical nymph of elevated powers. She is human. It is in her vulnerabilities and struggles, her vision and determination that I have witnessed heroism and learned about true love.

I love you, Momma. Happy YOU Day! You're the Bomb!
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Happy Mother’s Day to all you other Mo-Fo’s out there too!