In 2003 I moved into my own apartment after living with the same woman for 9 years. It was a huge adjustment, and very exciting, and thanks to Craig’s List I found an amazing situation for myself. My mother was so excited for me, so involved. She came down and went through the whole move with me … It was her contention that as long as, by the first night, your kitchen and your bathroom are all set up – you will be fine. So even as my movers were lugging my furniture all about, my mother was tearing through boxes marked “KITCHEN” and “BATHROOM” – and hurriedly putting things away – scrubbing the tub, scrubbing the insides of cabinets – all while I was consumed with playing Traffic Cop for my movers. My mother made the transition unbelievably calming. I was so grateful to have her there.<\/p>\n
But more on this whole move:<\/p>\n
My dishes\/pots\/pans have always been hand-me-downs, unimportant. I buy crap dishes at flea markets, I don’t have a ‘set’ of anything.<\/p>\n
But as my move approached, my mother got it into her head that I should have a nice set of dishes. I should have a pattern that I wanted, I should pick out dinnerware for myself – with no concern for cost.<\/p>\n
I’m not married. Married people get that stuff at their shower. But what happens if you never get married, AND if you have no money? Does that mean you never get to have a nice set of dishes that you like?<\/p>\n
So my mother took me out shopping. Basically, it was like my own personal shower. We had such a good time together – she took me to shops in Rhode island, and I picked out all the stuff I liked. Stuff that spoke to me.<\/p>\n
I picked these great big chunky plates, painted this heavenly color – a periwinkle blue. I picked these tall water glasses, with autumn leaves wrapping around them. I picked placemats- a pale lavendar color. I also got the silverware I wanted – nice solid silver. (I’ve always had crappy silverware – I never could justify the cost – I’d buy 10 crappy forks at a church flea market and call it a day.) So I cherish my beautiful silverware that my mother bought me.<\/p>\n
We were both suffused with girlie excitement.<\/p>\n
But let me tell you the deeper thing: I was so moved at how much my mother wanted to give me something. It meant the world to her – to give me what I wanted – to hear me say, “Oh, aren’t these pretty?” (about the autumn leaf glasses) – and then be able to say, “Let’s get a couple of them. You like them. Let’s get them.”<\/p>\n
As is probably obvious, I am stridently independent and have been on my own for a long time. It is not often that my mother gets to GIVE like that to me, and it meant so much to her.<\/p>\n
It’s hard for me to accept gifts – but I also could feel, in my heart, how happy it made her to be able to give me something I wanted. So i was able to accept.<\/p>\n
But here’s the coda to this whole story about my dishes – and why I wanted to write about this in the first place:<\/p>\n
A month or so later, my parents drove down to New York, to all of us who live here, and to see what I had done to my place. My mother had already seen my apartment, my father had not.<\/p>\n
Now as I write this, I am fully aware that there are people on this earth (many of my friends included) who have parents who could not give two shits about “seeing” their child’s “new place”. Some people just don’t have that parental involvement in their lives. I do. And my God. My God. I am fully aware of how blessed I am. How amazing my parents are. Truly. When I was in my 20s, trying to break free, it felt like a burden, at times. Like: “Jesus, other parents aren’t so INVOLVED….why are MINE???” But now, of course, I see how fortunate I am. And was.<\/p>\n
My parents arrived. I was so excited to have them see my place, to have my dad see it for the first time, to have my mom see what I had done to it. I loved being able to have them both sit in my kitchen, to serve them drinks, to be all set up.<\/p>\n
My father took one look around my main room – with the hard wood floor, the ceiling fan, the patterned ceiling, and the PILES AND PILES OF BOOKS – and said, in his understated calm way, nodding his approval, “Good. Good.”<\/p>\n
But what I want to talk about is my mother.<\/p>\n
I was in the kitchen with my mother, so excited to show her what I had done, how I had set things up, where I had put things.<\/p>\n
And this is what is extraordinary about this woman – or one of the many extraordinary things:<\/p>\n
NOTHING was boring to her.<\/p>\n
I know mothers who are bossy, who come into their child’s space and immediately re-arrange things, or criticize. I know these kinds of mothers. Bitchy petty controlling mothers. My mother could not be petty if you paid her a million dollars. My mother would turn down the cash. She would not do it. Her inner compass is too strong.<\/p>\n
If her child is excited about something, then she is excited. (Well, let me re-phrase. If I came to her and said, “Omigod, I am so excited about how much blow I am doing right now!!” she would not be excited. She has her limits.)<\/p>\n
I opened my cupboard and said, smiling, “And here are my dishes!!”<\/p>\n
Now: reminder: SHE had bought me those dishes. She had already SEEN those dishes!!<\/p>\n
And yet -she took one of the dishes out, and said, “Oh, gosh, they are so pretty.”<\/p>\n
I don’t think I’m describing this right. I am sitting here with tears running down my face, and I don’t feel that I’m describing this.<\/p>\n
Let me try to get clear:<\/p>\n
She was the one who bought me the dishes. She had already seen them<\/em>. And yet she was excited to see them placed in my new cupboard. She was right there with me, in my excitement.<\/p>\n Here is what that moment with the Periwinkle Dishes meant to me, and what it says about my mother:<\/p>\n My mother is ALWAYS doing her best. ALWAYS. I cannot say that I am always doing my best. There are many times when I am jealous, when I am bitter, when I let negativity overcome me. But my mother – without EVER being a pious self-righteous woman (and that’s the whole point – that’s the whole point – her ego is not wrapped up in her “righteousness”) is ALWAYS doing her best. In every moment in life, we are faced with a choice: Should I go the high road or the low road? My mother probably knows better than I do, but I have never known her to take the low road.<\/p>\n I am not saying that she is perfect. Of course not. But I am saying that she is always doing her best in any given moment. Always. It has taken me YEARS to realize this about her. YEARS.<\/p>\n Another mother would have either scoffed at my dish placement, or would have squashed my excitement, “Yes, I know what they look like. After all, I paid an arm and a leg for them.”<\/p>\n My mother just ooohed and aahed over how pretty they looked in my cupboard.<\/p>\n I told my sister Jean this story once, and Jean said, “You know … it’s actually kind of holy<\/i>, isn’t it.” In the true sense of the word, yes. It is.<\/p>\n Grace. My mother teaches me grace.<\/p>\n Happy mother’s day, mar mar.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" In 2003 I moved into my own apartment after living with the same woman for 9 years. It was a huge adjustment, and very exciting, and thanks to Craig’s List I found an amazing situation for myself. My mother was … Continue reading