Acceptance in 2011

Being a mother to 3 is way different than I ever imagined. When I was young, growing up and well into my 20's, I saw myself having 2 kids. A boy and a girl. When I imagined it - parenting - I was different in that video I played in my head. I was in shape, still 28 (I guess never aging?!), patient, organized and basically on top of my game. Sometimes I will see moms and think "that is how I expected I would be". You know, more crafty....layed back....fun loving....artsy. You know that mom. The mom who is running with a football in her hand while her kids tackle her and everyone is laughing. The mom who pulls up to school in her clean Subaru hatch back. That same mom who has time and energy to be a foster parent, volunteer at school, bring her husband lunch at work.....you know the one I am talking about.
Fast forward and I have 3 instead of 2 and am out of shape and too tired to be "artsy" or even know what that is supposed to mean. I drive a dirty dented 6 year old van. The new video is of a mom who is more patient now than in the beginning at least but she certainly isn't crafty. She looses her keys, drops kids off with pajama pants on, I only watch football and no one should ever consider tackling me. WHY did I ever envision myself the other way? I wasn't that way then so why in the world would I all of a sudden give birth and blossom into a "commercial" mom. I wish I could go back to that girl and say, "listen, you are who you are, learn to love it".

I have spent over a decade trying to become a really good mom. Some things I did well from the beginning, but other things still have a long way to go. We don't go to church regularly, I think lemonade stands are a pain in the ass and sometimes I don't read the Friday flyer from school. BUT - as my kids have grown, I am so proud of them. I look at them and think "man, these kids really rock". So my point is this - you don't have to be perfect or even parent perfectly to have lovely, wise and sweet children. I am proof.
So in 2011, I am working on acceptance b/c I don't want to spend another decade thinking I am not good enough and because I just heard someone whisper (or shout!) in my ear, "you are who you are, learn to love it!".

Love

I am ill-equipped at best to blog about the death of a child. I can't speak to the unbearable anguish parents must feel when they bury a child so all I can do is try to write about our community. Recently a family in our small knit community lost their first born daughter to cancer. She passed away the Sunday after Thanksgiving after months of hope and commitment and collective inspiration. We in Mt. Prospect rallied around her diagnosis, her wellness, her struggles and her passing.
For me, as a parent, I am sure we all saw our own fragility exposed more and more with each mention of Lindsey's ups and downs. I marveled at her parents commitment to family life and schedules and wellness. I admired them for being the best version of what we hope we could ever be ourselves. We watched them motor on with soccer, concerts and list goes on and on while enduring what I could only imagine was fear and helplessness. I am sure we all have thought about how we would ever handle this situation if we were the parents. If I was the mother. I only hope that I could muster up half the strength her mom gave to each day.
For the kids, Lindsey represented so much. She was exponentially likable so cheering for her was a common denominator amongst every grade, boy or girl. These kids learned so much in the past year and a half. They learned that even when someone is sick and might loose their hair, it's still the same exact person. They learned that someone their very own age was tough and resilient and amazing. I can't tell you how many times my girls would say "I saw Lindsey today and she looked so pretty" or "Lindsey is such a good dancer". And when she passed away, Maeve came home and said "Mrs. Boundy said that even when Lindsey was sick and didn't feel well, she always handed everything in on time". You could see how impressed Maeve was. I think all of the kids just marvelled at her spirit and were so proud to know her. And just as I saw a mothers best version in Sue, the kids saw that in Lindsey. She showed them how to be the best you can be. I know they learned that from her. For my girls, their first reaction (and I told them separately) to the news that she passed away was their concern for our friend and neighbor, one of Lindsey's best friends. They both said they knew this was so hard for Caylie. We made cookies and they made cards and across the street they marched. It's all we could do. A feeble attempt to ease their pain. I know this probably happened all over town. All of us trying to ease the pain.
During the last couple of weeks, I tried to take time to understand all of this. I have come to conclude, there is no understanding of all of this. It's painful and there's no "bright side". But I do know that when there is such pain it's because of unbelievable love. We have seen unbelievable love. We all supported whoever we could so that maybe that person could manage this loss a little bit better and through support were acts of love. I have seen love in 11 year old boys and girls. We have witnessed love between teachers and kids and family and neighbors. And I am sure that anytime we Mt. Prospectors see purple for the rest of our lives, we will see love. Even 4 year old Peter sees it. He is so proud of his purple ribbon because "it's Lindsey's favorite color". He doesn't know her but he knows she is loved and that she loved that color. A few days ago he said, "I'm afraid that when spring comes, people will forget that purple was Lindsey's favorite color". I said, "I don't think that will ever happen".
We have been blessed that we have had the honor to witness such grace and strength and love.