Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Tough-skinned Mamas

The Bible says that mirth is God's medicine. Indeed, while it may be beneficial to laugh and to not take ourselves too seriously, there seems to be a consensus that acquiring thick-skin on the mothering journey is also advantageous. Children that you love, for whom you would give your life, to whom you are committed beyond reservation do say the darnedest things. These are kids that love you back but that, in the innocence of child-likeness or the thoughtlessness of adolescence or the busyness of adulthood,  blurt out blatant stomach punches. Some leave us almost breathless.

With shrieks coming from the nursery one morning many years ago, I ran to comfort a distraught toddler awakening from a nightmare. Rocking and consoling my child who was notoriously a bit of a grumpy Eeyore when waking up,  I tried my best to cajole him. "I am so sorry you were frightened. Mother's here now. What was your bad dream about?" "YOU!" came the unexpected reply. Groan. When the day starts on that note, you know it is going to be an uphill climb.

No doubt we have all taken our mother's cork under a time or two. I recall a particular blunder when I was probably eight years old. Mother and Daddy did not often go out (I mean, where is there to go in Bucyrus, Ohio, alias SmallTown, USA?) but this particular evening, they had a date, just the two of them. Mother floated down the stairs like a princess, wearing those notorious high-heeled pumps that carried her petite frame so nimbly, all clean and good-smelling, twirling in a dusty pink and black print, full skirt. She wore a black blouse that had elastic circling the short sleeves and the scooped neckline and a wide, stretchy black belt wrapping her tiny waist. The style, I believe, at that time was called a "peasant look". I had never seen anything more exquisite. Wide-eyed, I pronounced  adoringly that my mother was as beautiful as a gypsy. I truly could not think of a description that would be more fancy or fun. My mother's smile faded just a tad (she knew I meant well) and I am pretty sure that little outfit was retired at evening's end.

                                     


Another time I announced to my teacher, who was matching names with food items to be brought to the school carnival, that my mother was making the potato salad in the bath tub. Ever after, even when she became the president of the PTA, my mother endured teasing because she had jested about needing to mix the large quantity in the tub. I, the kindergartener-in-the-know, had taken her literally. 

My friend's bout with cynicism was at the mercy of her son who has recently become infatuated with a young lady. When asked to describe "Miss Right" he announced that she was nothing like his mom,  that he would never want to marry someone like his mother. Although, a brother tried desperately to smooth  things over, the young man with stars in his eyes, stuck to his guns. While Prince Charming is very close to his mom,  he, nevertheless, would not be persuaded to retract his statement. Just weird marrying someone that reminds you of your mom, I guess. But I will bet it happens more often than those cavalier suitors recognize.

My own offspring have humbled and pummeled me along the way. I have overheard remarks like, "My mother makes the best" (my heart was swelling with pride during a split-second pause)....."cereal." Or here is another, "Did they have old-fashioned toys when you were little, or were they all new then?" And "I love you so much. I'm glad the Indians didn't kill you when you were a little girl." (Me, too. Pocahontas and I had it made!)

Grandchildren help with the added epidermis layer, too. A grandson recently plopped onto the sofa, and exclaimed,"When was the last time someone was on this couch? I just sat down and all this dust flew up in the air." (Technically, he dive-bombed to his seat and we prefer to refer to those little particles floating around as "sunshine" streaming through the windows.)

So, as our skin gets thicker (more wrinkled, too) maybe like the velveteen rabbit we are toughened up but more soft and mellow inside knowing we are loved. Afterall, a mother is supposed to be the one who extracts the intended meaning from the words and "with a breath of kindness blows the chaff away". Besides, the little love notes we save & tuck between pages of books to re-discover later, often misspelled and grammatically disheveled, make the spoken faux pas worth it. 
"I love you Mama. I will tickle you in the morning."
"I love you so, so, so,  HO, HO, HO much" (tied to the Christmas teapot)
"I hop you will lik ths pctur. You r my favrit. You r the goodest muthr."

                                      
                                          

Lord
Grant me the grace You extend to me in my oft carelessness of words. Help me to form the mind of Christ as I respond to loved ones, to not look solely on the outward appearance [expression] but to look on the heart.
1 Samuel 16:7

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