I don’t remember where we were headed when he asked me that question.
It was a question I’d heard so many times before. A question I loathed. A question that immediately put me in defense mode and caused me to throw up the walls I’d been trying so hard to break down.
But it sounded different coming from him.
“Carri, why don’t you want kids?”
He nervously looked at me from the passenger seat.
“I just don’t,” I said flatly.
“I don’t understand why not,” he proceeded with caution, knowing full well this topic was a trigger. “I had so much fun with you kids. I don’t understand why you don’t want to experience the joy I did.”
The answer I became accustomed to giving other people just wouldn’t fly with him. He knew better and so did I.
I kept my eyes on the road. “Because. I just… I don’t know how to be a mom.”
There. The truth was out.
“Nobody needs to teach you how to be a mom. If nothing else, you know how not to be.”
“I don’t want to make the same mistakes. I don’t want to treat someone the way we were treated.”
“Carri,” he said. “You’re not her. You’re kind. You’re loyal. People like you. ”
I said nothing.
“Carri, you’re not her.” My eyes were on the road but I could sense his body turning towards me. “You’re not going to make the same mistakes because you’re not like her.”
“Well, I mean, I know I’m not like her, but nobody taught me how to be a mom. I don’t know what a good mom is supposed to be. I didn’t have a good example.”
The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
A heavy sigh came from his direction. “You may not have been taught how to be a good mom, but you’ve been taught how to be a good parent.”
Those words – my “Good Will Hunting” moment – began the long and painful process of realizing just that.
Although my mom never taught me how to be a good mother, my dad taught me how to be a good parent.
And that’s the reason he’s a Grandpa today.
***
Sure, we love our kids… but they also cause us to drink. Our Raspberry Lemon Drop Martini will (almost) make you forget about the marker art on the wall!
Awesome post!! The quick story pulled me in and dropped me right off the cliff at the end. Really enjoyed this heartfelt post.
Thank you.
Grandpa Dale is full of good advice. He deserves a drink.
Beautifully written. Love love love
Poignant way to acknowledge your truth and both sides of your coin. You write brave brilliantly, Carri. :>
Thanks, Karen. I don’t write “brave” much but sometimes I just need to get it out.
He was and still IS right! You’re so not her. And it’s been wonderful to see you totally kick serious ass at parenting! I know that I’m watching from way the hell over here but seriously…. TRULY… you’re a fabulous Mama. You care for Blake so well… and so honestly. And you care for yourself… which we both know is a HUGE gift to our family. You’re wonderful. And Grandpa Dale rules… as per usual. I hope he got a Raspberry Lemon Drop!!!
oxo
xo
You ARE a great person and a wonderful mother. Grandpa Dale was right. Blake is very lucky to have you as his mother.
Carri: With all of the love you have for that little boy you will always be the “best” mom! Being a mom is a learn-as-you-go process and doing the best you can with whatever you know at the time is just about all you can do
Hugs, Lucille
Beautiful. I can feel your apprehension in the writing. Grandpa Dale seems awesome.
No one taught me how to be a mom either. I had the same fears about having kids — that I would turn into too much of my own mom and push them away. I still fear that.
Grandpa Dale IS awesome. Lucky you.
I think you should totally enter this in the http://yeahwrite.me/57-open-challenge/ challenge! Your writing has never been better (OK, that is a compliment, not a complaint)
WG
It’s full.
But thanks!
You and Blake are super lucky to have Grandpa Dale. And yeah, he totally deserves a big ass drink.
This made me all teary. You’re lucky to have each other, and not just for the drink maker/drink tester relationship
What an awesome post. Thank you for sharing it. That question scares me too.