Remembering my crazy momma on Mothers Day!

Yes, the words crazy momma …comes to mind when I think of Mother’s Day. It is funny how everyone shares different experiences of their mothers and their relationships. Our minister shared some of those thoughts people have this morning in church and it really touched home with me. Funny how mothers come in all shapes, sizes and symbols! When I was growing up, I had an idea of what or who I thought my mom should be. When I was younger, for the holiday’s I would by buy my mom a variety of long dresses and other conservative attire. When she would open her gift, she would glance at me, tilt her head and smile. I thought … wow, I did a great job picking out those clothes. How amazing my mom would look in the things I would pick out for her to wear. It is funny when I look back, how I never saw her wear those dresses. I would see her in shorter skirts, flowing blouses with the big sleeves (ones like Prince would wear), dresses that were suitable for her to wear to the night club, and a variety of uniforms she would wear to multiple jobs. One day, when I was 15, I handed her another proud gift. This time, she said it “Please stop buying me these old lady dresses, I will not wear those.” Well, there it was, from the mouth of my loving mother. She confirmed her lack of interest to not dress conservatively. I would be lying if that was the only eye opening experience I had during my young adult years. Looking back, I watched my mom be the mother she thought she should and could be, wearing the clothes that she considered sexy and fun, clothes she wanted to wear, and hanging in the places that I would join her at when I turned 18. You see, my mother was crazy and she was wild. However, she was also a struggling single mother, who had experienced a life of traumatic events, suffered from depression and anxiety, someone who had experienced many failed relationships and worked several jobs to care for my brother and me.

When I was growing up, I yearned for a normal life like my friends had. I wanted to sit at the table as a family for dinner, go to Sunday church and see my mother in her long conservative dresses. All of the unrealistic expectations I had of my perfect mother . The reality, dinners were me and my little brother eating dinner while my mom went to work, we attended church during the holidays and other important events, and she often left the house in her short shirts to go to the club. Looking back, my ideal mother was in my head, my vision of perfection was tainted. I grew up frustrated and disappointed with my life.

Now I am a mother and my crazy momma has left this earth to early. I think about all of those times I was angry and disappointed, I wasted years with an unrealistic expectation for who she was and who I what I wanted her to be.  I spent a life time trying to change and direct my mother. I wanted her to go to church, I wanted her to have a stable relationship, I wanted her to dress conservatively, and I wanted her to be the perfect mother. Oh the regret I have, I wish that while she was alive I would have told her, Mom I love who you are not who I want you to be!

 I look back and I realize that I did have the perfect mother that God hand picked for me. I had a mom that taught me to take care of myself and do not take NO for an answer, to chase my dreams, to get an education and be myself. I wasn’t aloud to whine, not because she didn’t care about my feelings but because life was hard and I needed to fight. She taught me that if I longed for the Lord than I could do something about it. Through despair came desire. She taught me that mental illness is real and simple things to some, are sometimes debilitating to others. She taught me that if I didn’t want to live in a neighborhood that wasn’t safe, I better do something about it to move. She taught me not to pity but to pray, not always by example but by lack of.

You see, my mom was crazy, in so many ways she was teaching me life skills, intentional or not. She taught me lessons that I am forever grateful. I stand tall, walk the walk and fight the fight. Now that she is gone I realize that while she was alive, I wish I would have had the opportunity to thank her, thank her for the failed and successful parenting attempts and thank her for being the best she thought she could be. I wasted so many years feeling sorry for myself, suffering, and mourning my lack of a perfect upbringing. But I have four beautiful children, a loving husband and a totally dysfunctional life that I wouldn’t trade for anything. Without those experiences, I would not have longed for the life I didn’t have. I long for the Lord, read my bible, have dinner with my family and I am thankful for whom I have become. My kids will say, I definitely have a crazy side and I am sure they want me to be the perfect mother, the perfect mother I will never be. Perfection is not possible except in our Savior. As I reflect, I am not a victim of poor parenting but a survivor of a little bit of crazy mixed with a whole lot of love, Happy Mother’s Day!