Some of the blog posts I write roll right out of me. The topic inspires me and the words flow so easily the post almost writes itself (Hefting was that way). Other posts are just the opposite, I don't really know the topic (problems for men who knit) or are so complicated (how to go about designing a pattern for, well just about anything) that they remain ideas out there to write later. Or, as in the case of today's post, I just know the subject of the post is going to have problems about the exposure.
For three years now I've pondered writing about my Mom on Mother's Day. But I know Mom, she is an introvert, not in the relatively negative vernacular use of the word, but rather in the Jungian way. She's not the type to tell you everything about everything she's thinking. In fact, it might be a challenge at times to know what she thinks about something because she's actually that private. Mom believes a private life is just that private. She is efficient with words and doesn't blather on and on about something. (I do have many of Mom's characteristics, but brevity and silence are NOT ones I inherited.) Mom would never consider writing like I do here. I'll now just go ahead and put words in her mouth, as I often do, I suspect she'd say the blog is just too much personal information sharing.
In fact, Mom has had trouble with my quoting her in this blog, photographing the things she's created, or praising her generosity in giving to the local hospital. So I have hesitated about this post because I wanted to approach it in just the right way as to not make her too uncomfortable. To be sure she won't enjoy the exposure, but perhaps the words will overcome that discomfort.
That photo, taken just about 10 years ago, is a professional photo she wanted taken and Mom had the ideas about how it should look. The occasion was one of my nephew's wedding so we were both looking about our best. I know she doesn't like sharing photos much, but you have to admit Mom, I picked a pretty good one of both of us, didn't I? Mom has a copy of it sitting in the area of the house she knits and I have a copy in my home in an area I knit. So it can easily be argued we both have this in a special place.
We have grown closer the older we get despite our differences. Mom is of a different generation from me. Women in her generation, at least after WWII, didn't work outside of the home. But be sure Mom worked on the farm. She helped with the chores and field work, was a good mother, daughter and sister. She is and was a very good cook, with meals outside of the home a true rarity. She supported my Dad in all that he did.
I too am a product of my generation. Although a bit late to the Women's Liberation movement, I lived many of the things they espoused. I got a degree in the field of business at a time when in a class of 25 there might be 3 of us of the female gender in the room, meaning I wasn't on the front line of the change, but I did experience some of the challenges of breaking into the all male world of work. I worked outside of the home and had others care for my sons, quite a departure from Mom's generation and the way I was raised. Mom and I didn't really see eye to eye for a couple of decades, but then in my thirties it seemed as though barriers between us fell away. Of course it wasn't her (Mom has always been Mom), it was me finally growing old enough to better understanding her life's choices or lack thereof. Since then, so that's now been about 30 years, we just "get" each other and have become friends.
In the birthday card I got this year was a letter that Mom wrote. Along with all kinds of updates about this and that she wrote: "You were a tiny bundle compared to today's babies; but you were feisty and still are. That is what probably got you where you are today." And in those two short sentences, Mom captured my being. She understands me and my ways of living, even when that way may not be to her liking. That type of acceptance is what any child, no matter how old, would hope for from a mother. Mother should be someone who loves you despite your doing things she doesn't fully understand or even agree with.
So Mom, I hope you have a very great Mother's Day. Your acceptance of me as I am has also gone a long way in making me who I am today. For that type of acceptance I am eternally grateful and hopefully I've been able to pass it on to the next generation and someday the one after that. You've impacted many lives beyond your three children and you need to celebrate all of that today and always. Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
For three years now I've pondered writing about my Mom on Mother's Day. But I know Mom, she is an introvert, not in the relatively negative vernacular use of the word, but rather in the Jungian way. She's not the type to tell you everything about everything she's thinking. In fact, it might be a challenge at times to know what she thinks about something because she's actually that private. Mom believes a private life is just that private. She is efficient with words and doesn't blather on and on about something. (I do have many of Mom's characteristics, but brevity and silence are NOT ones I inherited.) Mom would never consider writing like I do here. I'll now just go ahead and put words in her mouth, as I often do, I suspect she'd say the blog is just too much personal information sharing.
In fact, Mom has had trouble with my quoting her in this blog, photographing the things she's created, or praising her generosity in giving to the local hospital. So I have hesitated about this post because I wanted to approach it in just the right way as to not make her too uncomfortable. To be sure she won't enjoy the exposure, but perhaps the words will overcome that discomfort.
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| July 31, 2004 - Today, I look even more like Mom |
That photo, taken just about 10 years ago, is a professional photo she wanted taken and Mom had the ideas about how it should look. The occasion was one of my nephew's wedding so we were both looking about our best. I know she doesn't like sharing photos much, but you have to admit Mom, I picked a pretty good one of both of us, didn't I? Mom has a copy of it sitting in the area of the house she knits and I have a copy in my home in an area I knit. So it can easily be argued we both have this in a special place.
We have grown closer the older we get despite our differences. Mom is of a different generation from me. Women in her generation, at least after WWII, didn't work outside of the home. But be sure Mom worked on the farm. She helped with the chores and field work, was a good mother, daughter and sister. She is and was a very good cook, with meals outside of the home a true rarity. She supported my Dad in all that he did.
I too am a product of my generation. Although a bit late to the Women's Liberation movement, I lived many of the things they espoused. I got a degree in the field of business at a time when in a class of 25 there might be 3 of us of the female gender in the room, meaning I wasn't on the front line of the change, but I did experience some of the challenges of breaking into the all male world of work. I worked outside of the home and had others care for my sons, quite a departure from Mom's generation and the way I was raised. Mom and I didn't really see eye to eye for a couple of decades, but then in my thirties it seemed as though barriers between us fell away. Of course it wasn't her (Mom has always been Mom), it was me finally growing old enough to better understanding her life's choices or lack thereof. Since then, so that's now been about 30 years, we just "get" each other and have become friends.
In the birthday card I got this year was a letter that Mom wrote. Along with all kinds of updates about this and that she wrote: "You were a tiny bundle compared to today's babies; but you were feisty and still are. That is what probably got you where you are today." And in those two short sentences, Mom captured my being. She understands me and my ways of living, even when that way may not be to her liking. That type of acceptance is what any child, no matter how old, would hope for from a mother. Mother should be someone who loves you despite your doing things she doesn't fully understand or even agree with.
So Mom, I hope you have a very great Mother's Day. Your acceptance of me as I am has also gone a long way in making me who I am today. For that type of acceptance I am eternally grateful and hopefully I've been able to pass it on to the next generation and someday the one after that. You've impacted many lives beyond your three children and you need to celebrate all of that today and always. Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
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