Of Moms and Memories

posted on March 15, 2010 in Patricia Schneider | 2 Comments to Read | Print

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Six months after I was married, with excited, nervous hands, I wrote my mother to tell her I was expecting. As often happens when people are anxious about each other, our letters crossed and the one from her started “I suppose, any day now, you will be telling me you are pregnant.”

Do mothers know everything?

I’d like to say yes, but I messed up so often that I have to confess it has been mostly a learning experience. My babies were both born thousands of miles away from home. No mom to lean on and two very young parents reading Doctor Spock by day and walking the floor by night. One evening when a cry erupted from the crib in the bedroom, there was a near accident as we both headed for it. Finally, we came to an agreement. My husband would look after me and I would look after the baby.

Two years to the day, when the second one arrived, we had a few more smarts but we found its arrival only doubled the learning experience and the memories, for those are what is left when the last one walks out the door leaving behind a few boxes filled with old art supplies and school annuals.

But you never stop praying … who would have thought when these tiny packages arrived that fifty years later they would still be on your daily prayer list … but they are.

And the memories … we loved to take our girls camping and fishing. Once while visiting a small stream I looked up to see my very young daughter walking in the water downstream. Afraid to startle her I didn’t speak and a few seconds later she was back on shore.

‘What were you doing?” I admonished.

“A butterfly landed on my shoe and when I went to shake it off, my shoe came off and landed in the water,” she impatiently replied. Then added: “And you know, you taught me how to swim.”

And yes, I had. And when at the beach, nothing filled me with more delight than to see those little sun-tanned bodies race across the sand and into the water.

As they grew I hope we taught them about our beliefs. Sunday morning, we as a family strode off to church. Some years later my daughter’s teacher embarrassed her in class when she objected to doing some canvassing (for a project) on Sunday mornings. I was never prouder of her and my respect for the teacher went out the window.

Some years ago, my five-year-old grandson was on a “why?” kick and one after another questions poured out of him. To the best of my ability I answered all of them. Finally he asked “Grandma, do you know everything?”

How I laughed. Maybe I have learned a few things through the years.

Patricia Schneider is a freelance writer. Her articles are published online every Monday