The following is a post I wrote on my old blog back before Sam was born. Every word of it is still true–and being Sam and Piper’s mom is a more precious privilege than I ever could have dreamed.
I love my mom, a lot. She’s really an amazing lady. She is generous, kind, funny, hardworking, and a lot of other things that I hope I picked up a little bit of from her (she’s also slightly OCD and a clean freak–which, unfortunately and MUCH to her dismay, I did not inherit at all.) But mostly, she loves me. A lot. Not in a “my child can do no wrong” sort of way (my mom is also very honest!) but in a, “you’re mine, so never forget how special you are” kind of way. When I was growing up, it was just me and her for the most part, and I never felt like I was missing out (luckily, I did get to see my dad on weekends, so I still had the father figure. Not saying he was absent. Just that the majority of my life growing up was the 2 of us.) My mom worked a full time job–I have no idea what hours she worked. The reason for this is that I have absolutely no recollection of her ever being gone. I cannot recall a single soccer game, tee-ball game, softball game, gymnastics practice, school concert, school field trip, or any other significant event that she wasn’t there for. I don’t remember ever remember going to bed being tucked in by anyone besides my mom. I remember playing Barbies on the floor (actually playing together. Not me playing and her watching.) I remember sitting in the sandbox together. I remember playing with my dollhouse, singing our Steve Green bible verse songs, dancing to Wee Wing videos, having popcorn with Full House, back when it was a new and exciting show. I remember a home cooked meal nearly every night, and I remember having fish, hamsters, and kittens all during my growing up years. I’m sure there were things she had to miss; I know there were lots of friends and family who pitched in and made my life a wonderful thing. I know that I always had the same clothes all my friends did (and that I was proud my mom knew how to find the same clothes at yard sales instead of department stores!) and I never missed an after school event, summer camp, or youth group trip no matter what the cost was. I didn’t notice then that my mom never bought herself new clothes. I probably didn’t pay attention to all the things I had, and all the things she did without–probably because she has never brought attention to them. She has never grumbled about the sacrifice it was to put me through an expensive private school because she wanted me to have the best education possible. She’s never once reminded me, or even mentioned a single time, the hard times she must have had as a single mother. Rather, she has told me every single day for my entire existence, how loved I am.
My mom told me once that one of the trademarks of people who are truly happy is that every truly happy person knows that they are someone’s favorite. The morning of my wedding, she told me I should be the happiest person in the world, because all my life I had been her favorite, and now I was someone else’s as well. And how right she is. I never even thought I’d understand how much my mom loves me. But the closer I get to meeting this sweet baby boy thats growing inside me, the more it inspires me to love this child with everything I have.
This week when I was on vacation, I thought I might have a lot of those “this is the last time I’ll get to do ::fill in the blank:: before Sam comes!” since it was most likely my last trip without a baby in tow for awhile. Instead, I found myself anxiously awaiting his arrival so I can show him the world. A seagull walked up to my chair and I thought “Wow, Sam would LOVE if a bird came this close to him!” We walked the boardwalk and I thought “Look at that boy playing the arcade games! In a few years, I will get to play them with Sam!” When I was wiggling my toes in the sand I thought, “I wonder what Sam will think of the sand? I guess he will eat it…” Everything I experience now I want to share with him, and I get more excited by the day to meet him and love him in person.
I thought the other day “Man, I should try to think of SOMETHING besides pregnancy to write about on my blog or facebook” but then I realized–for 24 years, my mom has been my mom. I wonder how many times she’s been referred to as “Ashley’s Mom” instead of by her name. And it makes me smile to think that now, I am “Sam’s Mom.” My husband is “Sam’s Dad.” We are beginning a whole new phase of life, and I am thrilled to have been loved so well so that I can pass that onto my son.
And maybe somewhere along the way I’ll pick up a little of the cleaning skills, too