I thought about what I would write in my Mother's Day edition of 'Sunday Thanks' as I drove home to God's Country yesterday morning. (This last minute, same-day down and back trip was one reason the post is late. The other is that my sometimes-I-wanna-strangle-him Baby Daddy snuck the laptop away to work with him, so it wasn't here when I got home.) The sun was shining in on my arms and I was sipping my non-fat vanilla latte as the Muffin sang along to the Doodlebops in the back seat. I had a fat two hour stint of driving ahead of me, so -- I remembered.
Nanny
You really couldn't have asked for a better grandmother than I had. She never spanked, she never yelled, and she always had a box of Hostess Twinkies or ho-hos hidden in the third drawer of the kitchen cabinet for my brother and I, (probably one contributing factor to both of our childhood chubbster phases). Days with Nanny were as good as it got. During the school year, we got off the bus at her house - the t.v. was already tuned to our favorite channel for afternoon cartoons and Nanny would be ready to hear about our days. Spending the night was always a huge event for my brother and I as well. The three of us would pile up in the bed, side-to-side like little sardines, and Nanny would tell us stories. And not that fake fairy-tale stuff either - it was the real deal. I swear, Nanny had more adventures than Huck Finn. She was a tom boy, and was always getting into some kind of mischief or another. Whether it was the time she provoked and then got mightily sprayed by a skunk, (she had to take a bath in a tub chock full of tomato juice), or the time she and her cousin Johnny were playing kick the can and she kicked it right into her little brother's head, causing an expensive trip to the doctor and a near fainting spell from her mother at the sight of all that blood. Nanny's escapades were the fodder of my childhood imagination. We always begged for 'one more story, PLEASE one more story Nanny!' She usually obliged. I think that was where I got my passion for writing (and hence blogging). Nanny could spin a tale and then draw it out until Ryan and I would squeal, "and THEN what happened? C'mon, tell us the rest! (Even though we had probably heard the story a thousand times.) We spent long summer afternoons at the 'Spring Holler', where Nanny made us tiny fairy boats out of pieces of egg carton complete with toothpick and construction paper flags. She would roll up her pants and have moss fights with us, and teach us how to skip rocks. Nanny was the one who taught me that you have to distract a crawdaddy by putting a hand in front of him to make him swim backwards, and then grab him just behind the front pinchers to avoid getting your finger snapped off. (I am still, to this day, a crawdaddy catching champion.) She knew the best rocks to look under for salamanders, and could show you where the water boiled up from underground so pure and sweet and cold, you would drink it and your teeth would hurt. Nanny is still a constant in my life -- and she still tells great stories. Only now, she has a new generation of rambunctious grandkids to entertain, and a new captive audience for her tales of daring, courage, cans, and skunks.
Mom
So I guess you could say I've known her since the beginning. It is evident to me now, more than ever, that the same blood that runs through her veins runs through mine. She is the new best friend that I always had but never appreciated. My Mom is my lifeboat, my sounding board, my wailing wall, and my anchor. The worst thing in the world is when we are having a tiff, and I can't call her to complain about it. I mentioned at church on Sunday that they say people who are really talented at something make it look easy. Mom made parenting look easy. I know now that there were times when we were teetering on the brink of complete disaster, but my brother and I were none the wiser. Mom could take a couple of throw pillows, a chair, and a blanket, and the next thing Ryan and I knew, we were in the Taj Mahal. The best day of my life was probably one of the most disastrous for her. We were hours from home when our van blew up in some tiny map-dot town in another state. Now I know that Mom was probably beside herself - here she was with two young kids, in a place she didn't know, with a completely wrecked transmission. We walked into town and found a general store, where Mom bought us some rubber band helicopters and a magic ball of string that unwrapped held a secret toy inside. We wandered down the streets, shooting our helicopters up in the air and laughing, until we found a church yard with lots of big shade trees. We sat down in the grass, and then we realized that they had already hidden Easter eggs in anticipation of that Sunday's holiday. So we had our own private egg hunt. Of course Mom made us put them all back when we were done, but we were still happy. Looking back on that day, I don't remember the stress of being stranded. I don't remember worrying. I don't even remember how we got home. I remember the smell of the grass in that church yard. I remember my brother and I laughing as we competed to see who could get their helicopter the highest. I remember my mother's smile. I remember pure, childish joy. Even during the toughest years, I bet we laughed more than some people do in a lifetime. Mom is one of those people who just when you think they are down, surprises you and jumps back up with the sheer strength of her determination. She could be stuck on a cliff, swinging by a hangnail, and I swear she could claw her way back to the top. The amount of strength in her both amazes and terrifies me. I am afraid that I won't be able to measure up. I can only hope that I have enough of her in me to be able to make my son's childhood as amazing as mine was.
* * * *
I am thankful for my Nanny, with her wild tales and her endless patience. For her summer strawberry pies and her steadfastly proving that there truly are good people left in the world. I am thankful for my Mom, who can take an average day and make it extraordinary. She loves me as I am, with all my little quirks and flaws, and she makes me believe that hope is never dead. That there is always something wonderful coming just around the corner.
I am thankful for my son, who makes being a Mommy fun and completely worthwhile. I can't wait to see the adventures we are all going to have together little man!
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