|My Mom at 18|
"Thank you, Mommy, for all those special..." Nope. 'You give us wonderful [fill in the blank, meals/stories/help] every...' Nope. I think that is when I started making my own cards, stick figures of us at the beach with a big cheery Happy Mother's Day! I love you Mommy! I learned early that making your own cards came with built in benefits. One, they were considered delightfully 'homemade' and two, you eliminated a hell of a lot of problems.
Now she's gone and has been for a long, long time. I was with her that last day and I was glad to be there for her. I had finally figured out that she loved me the best she could. What else can one ask for? A lot, probably, but it's better just to say, rest well, Mom, you had such a great laugh and you made the best damn salad dressing I've ever had. Wowee dottie! (I have no idea what that meant but she said it often).
Mom's Roquefort Salad Dressing
|Most like our old salad bowl credit: Real Food Fast|
1/2 cup Olive oil
6 oz. Roquefort cheese
10 cloves of garlic (or more, we like garlic!)
1/4 cup Red wine vinegar
2 t. Dry mustard
put all ingredients together, shake like mad and let sit overnight to blend (no need to smash the garlic, whole bits are fine)
Best is if you have a big wooden salad bowl that you rub with garlic before making your salad. Just sayin'
These days, I don't really care much about Mother's Day in a angst needy sense (oh, I did at times in my life, when my children weren't feeling too kindly toward me and I just wanted that yearly token of proof that I hadn't fallen off the Mother planet zone). No, these days I am shown over and over, after years of crazy times, how much my children love me. They don't need an elected day of Love Your Mother Out Loud to let me know how they feel about me and for that, I'm blown away, grateful, stunned and thankful. I screwed up so much and go figure, they agree with me that love covers a multitude of faults and they have forgiven me as I've forgiven them. Schmaltzy? Hell yeah!! But we're strong as steel in our love, we know how fragile the line is between having it and not having it, having each other and not having each other and we're going to hold on welded by fire and ice and never let go. Until we have to and then we'll go out clinging like mad.
What most occupies my mind on this day, these days, are the mothers I know. The ones who are new to the high love and craziness; I love to watch their joy, they seem so smart and I'm so proud of them. And I think of the ones who have lost their children, that they survive and go on and are not maddened and locked away as I think I would be. I think of the ones who are old, very old, and cared for by old children, long past their own child bearing years. I know them every day. I know the ones who wanted to be mothers and it didn't happen for one reason or another, who give mother hearts to friends. These women are all so beautiful, every line on their faces, every invisible string/cord/steel cable binding them to their children, grandchildren, to their own mothers: it knocks me sideways with awe and delight sea fathoms deep, star high.
I watch and I listen and I am glad to be in the tribe of mothers, even as some days, when my children are aching, I think, god, why did I bring you into this insane world? They say they are glad I did. I'm glad I did too.
Mother's Day. Happy. I am. And for you other mother's, I wish you joy and peace and happy!
|Me and my tribe...we need an updated version!|