Divine All
Cleaning brussel sprouts, I had the thought, "My mother would like this recipe. She was a lousy mother, but a good cook."
Immediately a gentle voice inside asked, "True ? And what about you ?"
I rested my hands on the sink, stared at the greenery outside, breathed. Yeah... What about ME ? I've sure had my share of shitty mom moments...
I grabbed the knife, started chopping.
What the hell IS a good mother anyway ? I wondered. I've played lots of female roles in this theatre called life, and BY FAR, the hardest, most challenging role I've played is that of mother. There was no audition, no studying or preparing; all I had to do was show up, have sex, and BAM ! I got the part ! Nine months later: REALITY. I was on stage - without a script. Through the miracle of science, I had signed a contract to perform 24/7/365 days a year FOR DECADES, for FREE. It would require every ounce of energy, love, perseverance, sacrifice, patience, ingenuity, courage and improv I could muster, and the reviews - based upon my history - would probably not render me Oscar material.
Yet ~
MY BOYS.
Just thinking about them, feeling how much I love them, how proud I am, triggers happy tears. They're men now, gone, self-sufficient, delicious and delightful human beings, and for a few moments, I wonder how that happened. We lived through some horrible times !!! Times where I KNOW I unconsciously repeated my mother's patterns, heaped some powerful hurt upon them in frustration, rage, desperation and just plain FEAR. But somehow they survived. Somehow they thrive.
As do I.
Maybe, like me, they learned valuable, important lessons from their hurts, became better because of, or in spite of, them. Maybe like me, they know, no matter what's going on, there is, and always will be, a commitment to love.
I tossed the sprouts in olive oil, contemplated ~
Love.
Long nights in a rocking chair. Working on no sleep for DAYS. Changing diapers, cleaning puke. Smelling like puke ! Making bottles, baby food, meals, cupcakes, Halloween costumes, decorations, school projects. Schlepping to school, lessons, activities, play dates, appointments, emergency rooms. Caring for friends, pets, boo-boos. Teaching manners, numbers, letters, puzzles, printing, how to brush teeth, wash, wipe, ride a bike, roller skate, build a fort, read, sing Happy Birthday, play Itsy-Bitsy-Spider. All these things and more. So much more… 24/7/365.
My mother and I did that. Some days we lost it, said and did things that break our hearts to this day; and some days we were Betty Crocker, June Cleaver and Joan Rivers rolled into one.
BUT !
This I know for sure: We gave it everything we had. What we had might have been broken and beat up, but we gave it. With genuine, loving intentions. In sports they call it "your personal best." In life we say we gave it "our all." When I work the numbers (which is 16,425 days, 394,200 hours, 23,652,000 minutes - I think !), look at pure data, it's easier to forgive us. I think, based upon our ROI (return on investment), our children, the good we did must've out-weighed the bad. Yes, there were surely angels - visible and invisible - lending a hand, but it was us in the trenches. Day in and day out. No sick days. No time off. Just us. Bravely improvising, giving all.
Come to think of it, I probably got this recipe from her.
With love and gratitude ~