All I Remember is Love
And yet, I know she doubted herself at times, the same way I do now.
We are our harshest critics.
I shouldn't have raised my voice at him.
I shouldn't have been so impatient.
I am not doing a great job at being a mom or at work because my time is divided.
Not spending every minute with him doesn't mean I'm not a great mom.
Letting him have lemonade, ice cream, or chips (or even all three in one meal) when we go out to eat doesn't mean I'm allowing him to become a junk-food junkie.
Raising my voice on occasion will not scar him for life.
The reason I know this is because of the memories I have of my own childhood and the moments that mattered with my mom. I remember the good times and not the ones she probably didn't enjoy as much.
What matters is not the times she gave us a hard look in the rear view mirror and said, "don't make me turn this car around" when we were misbehaving ("She's on my side! She's touching me!").
It's not the times I was grounded for not doing as I was told (or coloring on my dad's pen set, for example). It's not the infrequent raised voices through gritted teeth. I remember those times only after digging through my memories to find them.
What I remember most is the love. Family time. Quality time.
It's the days (most days, in fact) I came home from school to the smell of sugary confections fresh from the oven.
It's the road trips we took from Indiana to Florida in the winter and New Jersey in the summer.
It's the forts we made in the living room and the boxes and spatulas we used to make a toy drum set.
It's the Christmas caroling we did with our extended family in shorts and t-shirts on warm Florida December days.
It's the dinners we shared as a family, almost every night.
It's the times I cried on her shoulder and knew I was in a cocoon of safety there.
It's the laughter, and stories we retell every time we see each other.
It's knowing that my parents always had my back, no matter what. They let me know that if I took a wrong turn, I'd be in serious trouble, but they would always love me.
My parents were not easy on me; in fact, they were probably stricter than average and quietly demanded that I do my best. While I did not always listen, the lesson "you should not settle for less than this" stuck with me.
The next time I am chastising myself for being a less-than-perfect mom, I will remind myself to relax - I had a great role model and my son is going to turn out just fine. The best thing we can give our children is love. Lots and lots of love. There is never too much affection, too much understanding, or too much listening. My son will always know he is loved, and that will carry him through his rainy days.
I have never met a person whose greatest need was anything other than real, unconditional love. You can find it in a simple act of kindness toward someone who needs help. There is no mistaking love. You feel it in your heart. It is the common fiber of life, the flame that heals our soul, energizes our spirit and supplies passion to our lives. – Elizabeth Kubler-Ross
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Love,
