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What you can expect:
The brutal truth of me, without all the sugary coating.
Here I am just me, UNCUT and UNEDITED.
I talk about my family, my divorce, and a lot about MAKEUP.
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Saturday, January 28, 2012

What I'll never quite be

As a child, did your mom take extra good care of you when you were sick? I don't know if mine really did, or if I just needed her (and therefore appreciated her) more when I wasn't feeling well. Either way, I still ache for my mom each time I am feeling under the weather. (For the record, my mom is and always has been a fantastic mother.)

Or maybe you didn't have a mother, but you ARE a mother, so you relate because you know how you go into hyper-drive to care for your little one when he is ill. Either way, the way I picture my mom taking care of me, checking my forehead for fever, sitting by my side...

That's what Husband's mother is like all the time. She is what people are referring to when they use the phrase "mother hen". She's constantly checking for discomforts, jumping to the rescue, exhausting herself so that her children don't ever want for anything.

If she has it, she will give it. If she doesn't have it, but you need it, she'll find it and find a way to get it to you.

I spent this evening with my mother-in-law and two brothers-in-law, celebrating Husband's birthday. I panicked about the condition of my house as time grew short, knowing we had guests arriving and the floor wasn't vacuumed, the table wasn't wiped down. What I forgot was that our "guests" were our family, in the truest sense of the word - the kind of people who don't even see the dirt on your floor, and if they happen to notice the dishes in your sink, it's only because they are washing them for you.

Husband wanted shepherd's pie for dinner. (Our entire relationship H has been thoroughly disgusted with the fact that I don't have a clue what shepherd's pie is. He raved about it, like it was the BEST food he'd ever eaten, and I should feel deprived for not having grown up on it.)

MIL, not surprisingly, brought shepherd's pie.

When my children think of the happiest place on Earth, they don't think of Disneyland, they think of Grandma 'Chele's house (that's short for Michele; when Asher was a baby he wouldn't say "Grandma Michele," he skipped the middle syllable. We've been calling her Grandma 'Chele ever since).  It's not because she buys the best gifts (though it could be argued that she does). It's not because she has the nicest house or a jungle gym in the backyard. She's just the most in-tune person in the world to a person's needs. She never forgot how it felt to be a child, yet she's one of the hardest working adults I know.

After about an hour with her in my home I realized that not one speck of the mess I was so worried about had bothered me since she walked in the door. All I had thought about was how much fun my boys were having with her, the hilarious voices she was making while she read "The Aminal" to my baby at bedtime. It wouldn't have mattered to her if she had to sit ON the piles of laundry, which usually liter my living room floor, as long as she was able to sit and play UNO with her grand kids for a few hours and wish her son a happy 26th birthday.



I will never be a mom like MIL is. I'll never be able to play for hours or carry children around on my shoulders while pretending to be a fighter jet, while making mac'n'cheese and constructing a fort at the same time. I'll never be able to read twenty-five children's books, complete with different voices for each character, without needing to come up for air. I'll just never have the abandon that she does, the carefree spirit that allows her to watch hundreds of packing peanuts rain all over her kitchen, all in the name of creativity, without so much as a hint of a panic attack.

But if I'm half as caring and perceptive as she is, and my kids grow up half as confident and self-loving as hers did, my kids will do just fine.