The best damn mom

On February 2^nd 2010, I became a mom without a mom. From that day forward I wouldn’t have the benefit of learning how to be a mom from my own mom, who was one of the best. And while I have always known how important this “mom” figure was in my own life, and how lucky I was to have the mom I did, nothing made it more evident than when I had to be a mom, on my own. When I had to look into the face of my then 8 month old daughter and tell her that I was going to try and be the best damn mom I could because I had one of the best damn moms there ever was.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve failed at the task of being the “best damn mom.” I am still taken aback by the fact that there are two little humans out there who, on many occasions, only want me. Me!? This is what it means to be a mom. You are that person. Their go to. And even though I was that way with my mom, it was, and still is very strange that I am the go to person for them. How am I your go to person? Sometimes I’m still that little girl that needs help from her mom. So how can I be a good mom for you?

I struggle with questions I would want to ask her about being a mom. For example, did you sometimes think we were the most annoying little beings on the planet? Did we always come to you for milk, water, a band-aid, a snack or really anything, even though Dad was also in the house? How about when we asked why you were throwing out our lovely artwork, which was really just us putting one line on a piece of paper? But I think I know the answer to that because she kept everything.

Do I feel cheated? Hell yes I do. And I feel like my kids got cheated. Of course they were cheated out of an amazing grandma, but also maybe I could be better, do better, if I were able to ask her questions. Maybe I could have more perspective. Maybe I would be able to practice more patience with them. Ok, probably not. But I certainly know I would have at least had some laughs from the stories she would have told. I didn’t get the stories. I was cheated out of the stories.

So the only thing I can do now is remember. I can do my best to remember how she raised us. How she gave us more love than we could handle. How she managed to be a mom and a friend wrapped up into one. How she taught us the importance of family and to always be there for one another. And I think we’ve at least been able to accomplish that. Any maybe one day I will be lucky enough to have my kids say that I am the “best damn mom” there ever was. But from where I sit, I have some really big shoes to fill.

To know that woman was to love her. And I am thankful I was able to call her mom. And I miss her every day.

Thank you for reading.

Live. Laugh. Love.