"my wife needs her mother" had me bawling openly and loudly. Just be there. so simple.
for the first two paragraphs, I had a hard time reading...as I am one of those women, one of the childless type. I didn't get the pleasure, or the pain, the opportunity or the possibility, or the potential to be a mother. Well, to be honest, I chose not to become a mother because the husband I gave my child-bearing years was NOT father material. now that I'm 51 and all my friends are welcoming grandbabies, my sadness for that choice stings.
I read your words and I can feel all the self-inflicted bullets bouncing inside the brain of a mother.
And yet I know, as I have always known, that simple truth. Just be there. It's how I am for every single soul who wants to tell me their story on a Tuesday, while standing in the rain, or while trying to choose which pastry off the menu board.
I love that image of you hiding Barbies to protect them from storms with your granddaughter on your floor .
Another great piece that says things other people can't say or at least can't say the way you say them. I really have been a crappy mother. Just ask my daughter. Or I haven't been a crappy mother. Just ask my son. I guess my son is wrong and my daughter is right.
My own mother was not the greatest mother either. And I truly didn't really have a dad .
I always wanted a family and failed to create one or find one or be born into one. At least not the one I would have wanted.
It's really the hardest work there is. I'm glad your son appreciates who you are, what you've done. But it can haunt us forever, long after we've wised up.
Grandmothers do play with grandkids more than we were able to as moms—if we are lucky enough to have the kind of time we did not have as parents. With parenting there are so many other things that you need to do then. Luckily my kids had brothers to play with plus nearby friends and cousins to do the playing with. Like you, I was amazed at how much I love playing with my grandson now, though no board or card games, neither of us like them. We do dolots of building of various things, duplos, legos, brios, also play dough, cars and trains, and exploring how things work, which is his passion). I did read tons to my three sons and now also to my grandson, that was and remains a favorite thing. Thanks for the whole of this essay, for writing so honestly of the troubles and your emotional wrestlings. Patenting is so hard. Grandparenting is so much easier. Love your conclusion.
Oh you. And these words which has all of us up and in our feels.
These ideas and expectations of motherhood a d yes, the places we fall short. I used to read beginnings and endings of bedtime books to my kids - I’d flip pages at a time, riff on some kind of muddle in the middle, get right to the inciting incident with all its ‘and thens’ and ‘suddenly’s and all was well and it mostly worked until it didn’t. By their bedtime, I was just so done with mothering and being the living appliance for the day.
With you all the way on motherhood, Abby. Your "way with words," your lack of interest in playing with small children, you sense of falling short compared to other mothers. And that beautiful conclusion. It reminds me of a scene in the latest season of THE BEAR, in which a mother and daughter experience a profound connection in the maternity ward after a lifetime of struggle. The mother is not only there, she's exactly the person her daughter needs.
I thought that as well… I also had the thought that sometimes children just need us to listen, not to fix the problem or “help” or tell them what to do, and that’s hard also.
“ I didn’t enjoy playing with my own children until they were old enough to talk.”
So relatable for me, and I find some grief still around this. I ran a well ordered ship with 8 sailing mates, which I homeschooled all the way through. Imaginative play was not something I had a taste for. Order, accomplishments, deadlines…so heavy on structure ruled the roost for quite some time.
To this day, I am still shocked by the juicy connections I have with these 8 amazing people…and my increasing interest in “imaginative play” at 61.
Love your posts and am reading, A Three Dog Life. 💝
There was so much going on, when my kids were young, when I was young. My biggest regret is forgetting that I just needed to be there. Way too much was swirling around inside my own head.
None of us has ever been the mother we think our children deserved. And yet, those words, "My wife needs her mother." Ooof. Got me right in the nasal sinuses.
I tried to keep Barbie out of the house. The doll first appeared when I was a kid and I hated those pointy toes even then. But my younger daughter pined for a Barbie, and, finally, my mother bought her one. She carried that doll around for weeks and introduced it to everyone. I was chastened. I should have listened to my child instead of taking a stand that didn’t ultimately matter.
Having a Barbie didn’t warp her. She is a law professor now.
Waking to your words mountains and seas away from my adult children. My mother was elegant, soft toned, spoiled . Had no business birthing 6 daughters. She loved infants. Employed a house full of Nannie’s . Thank gods of warmth for my Betty Jean Price whose huge breasts enveloping my needy body . 3 children I have. Adults . All of whom are tethered together. I had no idea what to expect when pregnant or after birth. Never read a how to (maybe Dr Spock !?) all instinct. As you tiny ones bored me. Breast feeding I tried 3 months with my son equally boring. I wanted to go back to work. So. As my mom I hired a nanny. Louisa. She was the perfect, quiet , pretty version of Betty . Just realized. My mother and Betty .Difference. I was PRESENT! Sorry for lengthy response. Oh my youngest Erin defaced Barbie. 🎈😂
Seconding what everyone else has already said. “Grandmothers play” and “My wife needs her mother” both gut-punched me. Such visceral truths. Thank you, thank you. 🙏🏻
"my wife needs her mother" had me bawling openly and loudly. Just be there. so simple.
for the first two paragraphs, I had a hard time reading...as I am one of those women, one of the childless type. I didn't get the pleasure, or the pain, the opportunity or the possibility, or the potential to be a mother. Well, to be honest, I chose not to become a mother because the husband I gave my child-bearing years was NOT father material. now that I'm 51 and all my friends are welcoming grandbabies, my sadness for that choice stings.
I read your words and I can feel all the self-inflicted bullets bouncing inside the brain of a mother.
And yet I know, as I have always known, that simple truth. Just be there. It's how I am for every single soul who wants to tell me their story on a Tuesday, while standing in the rain, or while trying to choose which pastry off the menu board.
Just be there.
Every single woman is a mother. Just being there.
Thank you for your brave words. They touch my heart. I too feel the sting, and I too know about "just being there."
Thank,you. This was a hard one, even though I wrote it about twenty-five years ago.
Well said and brave.
Thank you, Judy.
Yes. You have honored your truths. Takes courage.❤️💪
Thank you. Truth can be painful.
Beautifully said.
I love that image of you hiding Barbies to protect them from storms with your granddaughter on your floor .
Another great piece that says things other people can't say or at least can't say the way you say them. I really have been a crappy mother. Just ask my daughter. Or I haven't been a crappy mother. Just ask my son. I guess my son is wrong and my daughter is right.
My own mother was not the greatest mother either. And I truly didn't really have a dad .
I always wanted a family and failed to create one or find one or be born into one. At least not the one I would have wanted.
It's really the hardest work there is. I'm glad your son appreciates who you are, what you've done. But it can haunt us forever, long after we've wised up.
You are being your own best self.
“Well, mother, you certainly have a way with words.” She was right about that!
Beautiful.
Thank you, Wendy. It was a painful one.
Grandmothers do play with grandkids more than we were able to as moms—if we are lucky enough to have the kind of time we did not have as parents. With parenting there are so many other things that you need to do then. Luckily my kids had brothers to play with plus nearby friends and cousins to do the playing with. Like you, I was amazed at how much I love playing with my grandson now, though no board or card games, neither of us like them. We do dolots of building of various things, duplos, legos, brios, also play dough, cars and trains, and exploring how things work, which is his passion). I did read tons to my three sons and now also to my grandson, that was and remains a favorite thing. Thanks for the whole of this essay, for writing so honestly of the troubles and your emotional wrestlings. Patenting is so hard. Grandparenting is so much easier. Love your conclusion.
Thank you, thank you.
No one ends an essay/chapter/poem better than you Abby. You are the queen of last lines. (And all the ones before it too, for that matter.)
Thank you, such a nice thing to say. Makes me feel good. Thanks again.
Oh you. And these words which has all of us up and in our feels.
These ideas and expectations of motherhood a d yes, the places we fall short. I used to read beginnings and endings of bedtime books to my kids - I’d flip pages at a time, riff on some kind of muddle in the middle, get right to the inciting incident with all its ‘and thens’ and ‘suddenly’s and all was well and it mostly worked until it didn’t. By their bedtime, I was just so done with mothering and being the living appliance for the day.
Thank you very much. I love what you said.
With you all the way on motherhood, Abby. Your "way with words," your lack of interest in playing with small children, you sense of falling short compared to other mothers. And that beautiful conclusion. It reminds me of a scene in the latest season of THE BEAR, in which a mother and daughter experience a profound connection in the maternity ward after a lifetime of struggle. The mother is not only there, she's exactly the person her daughter needs.
I thought that as well… I also had the thought that sometimes children just need us to listen, not to fix the problem or “help” or tell them what to do, and that’s hard also.
YES, TO LISTEN. THAT I CAN DO.
So beautiful! I cried!
THANK YOU, LISA.
“ I didn’t enjoy playing with my own children until they were old enough to talk.”
So relatable for me, and I find some grief still around this. I ran a well ordered ship with 8 sailing mates, which I homeschooled all the way through. Imaginative play was not something I had a taste for. Order, accomplishments, deadlines…so heavy on structure ruled the roost for quite some time.
To this day, I am still shocked by the juicy connections I have with these 8 amazing people…and my increasing interest in “imaginative play” at 61.
Love your posts and am reading, A Three Dog Life. 💝
An old friend of mine used to say he didn't get interested in his kids until they were old enough to smoke. Still makes me smile.
Ha! I love hearing this. Relaxes a place in me somehow. 🙏🏻
There was so much going on, when my kids were young, when I was young. My biggest regret is forgetting that I just needed to be there. Way too much was swirling around inside my own head.
Thank you for your honesty.
Thanks, Jan. Mine too, too much and tooo little.
A few tears are a good way to start a Wednesday morning.
"My wife needs her mother."
So beautiful. Your daughter was surrounded by love in her hour of need.
Thank you. And that child is thirty-nine now.
None of us has ever been the mother we think our children deserved. And yet, those words, "My wife needs her mother." Ooof. Got me right in the nasal sinuses.
This is my second time trying to post a comment
Does it mean I am insufficient?
I don’t think so
I love this part about, why did I leave or want to leave more than stay?
I get it motherhood is the hardest job in the world. The valued and least supported.
Kudos to you, dear mother .
You have done good
I love you and I see you
I tried to keep Barbie out of the house. The doll first appeared when I was a kid and I hated those pointy toes even then. But my younger daughter pined for a Barbie, and, finally, my mother bought her one. She carried that doll around for weeks and introduced it to everyone. I was chastened. I should have listened to my child instead of taking a stand that didn’t ultimately matter.
Having a Barbie didn’t warp her. She is a law professor now.
I’m
Waking to your words mountains and seas away from my adult children. My mother was elegant, soft toned, spoiled . Had no business birthing 6 daughters. She loved infants. Employed a house full of Nannie’s . Thank gods of warmth for my Betty Jean Price whose huge breasts enveloping my needy body . 3 children I have. Adults . All of whom are tethered together. I had no idea what to expect when pregnant or after birth. Never read a how to (maybe Dr Spock !?) all instinct. As you tiny ones bored me. Breast feeding I tried 3 months with my son equally boring. I wanted to go back to work. So. As my mom I hired a nanny. Louisa. She was the perfect, quiet , pretty version of Betty . Just realized. My mother and Betty .Difference. I was PRESENT! Sorry for lengthy response. Oh my youngest Erin defaced Barbie. 🎈😂
Seconding what everyone else has already said. “Grandmothers play” and “My wife needs her mother” both gut-punched me. Such visceral truths. Thank you, thank you. 🙏🏻