Mama, A Rainbow

We were invited to an Art Show at Nate's classroom last week, in honor of Mother's Day. It was really quite brilliant. The walls were covered in art projects from the students, each with a prominent signature, and each child had completed a masterpiece on an actual canvas. Every single one had a 1st place ribbon on it. Nate's was titled "Cactus In The Desert." Not that he's ever seen a desert.

One wall was covered in profiles of each child's mother, done in marker and yarn by respective children. And each of these had listed a few fact of each mother, as dictated by each child to a scribe. My name is Cathlene. I am fifteen years old. I have black hair and black eyes. I enjoy working out and doing dishes.

Mothers are curious things. We don't see them as people. When we're children they are simply our mothers, and we rarely question where they came from or who they were before we came along. Oddly, mothers are often judged by their children in a way that most fathers are not, even today. You might think I'm projecting here, but I honestly don't think I am.

I think I was always getting ready to walk away and leave my mother behind me. I just wanted to be grown up and not have to talk to her anymore. I never appreciated my mother until I became one. It took months of sleep deprivation and changing diapers to get to "Oh Me God! She did this Five Times!"

And being a parent is really... I can't say it's the hardest thing I've ever done because I took French Lit. AP, and that class was Right After Lunch, which left me clawing my arms to stay awake while the teacher discussed Moderato Cantabile, Baudelaire, and his love life. But it's hard. It's so hard to care so much about other human beings who have so much faith in you to do the right thing all the time. It's hard to make right decisions when they feel wrong. It's hard to know you've made the wrong ones and can't turn back the clock. You know those moments in your life when you're wondering what the right thing to do is? You just aren't sure? Now imagine you're talking about a four year old who isn't you.

As a parent, I look back and wonder what my mother was thinking. I realize that sometimes, when she flipped out (No Dick Tracy!) she probably had a reason to. I am so glad that I have her to talk to, to turn to, and to rely on. Even if we don't see eye to eye on everything, I need her in my life.

Happy Mother's Day, everyone.