How to be a Mother

I think that many of us learn how to be a mother from our own mothers. I am lucky because I have a mother who is a much better mother than I can ever hope to be, but as I continue to try, each time falling down and picking myself back up, I have a model in my head for how I want to do things. Some of the things that my mother did for me, that I want to do for Nora and Milo, are these:

• Whenever I was sick my mother gave me a cool washcloth to put on my forehead. She would change the cloth whenever it got too hot. She would also give me toast, or crackers, or applesauce, or whatever I wanted, including the otherwise-contraband soda (with ice cubes, of course). Also, she would place the bowl that she used to make pancake batter next to my bed and I could use that bowl for throwing up. Then she would clean it up and never winced or complained or grimaced, so it never even occurred to me that it would be a pain to take care of somebody who was sick. Instead she was kind and sweet, and I hope that I too can be kind and sweet when I am cleaning out the pancake batter bowl. 
• My mother made Halloween costumes for me every year, and she made whatever I wanted, even if it was weird stuff like "little Dutch girl". For many years I thought that I could not have children because I didn't (and still don't) possess these kinds of domestic skills. When I try to make something, usually something ends up accidentally glued to something else, and cuss words are thrown about, and tears are shed. So I will not be able to replicate the Halloween costume prowess, but I'll give it my best. 
• When I had a birthday, I got to have whatever food I wanted for dinner and got to choose the cake I wanted. My mother made a homemade cake every year. Birthdays were always exciting and fun. She also went above and beyond the call of duty by giving me one gift on my sister's birthday (and vice versa), which I think shows a rare form of empathy for the emotional constitution of a child. I'm going to try to emulate this by helping Nora and Milo know that I see them as individuals with their own special birthday wishes and desires, even though they happen to share the same day.
• My mother always let me lick the beaters when she made cookies. 
• My mother let me read whatever I wanted to read throughout my childhood and adolescence. She would go to the library every 2 weeks and bring home the maximum number of books you could check out at one time. If she ever had any books in mind that weren't allowed, I didn't know about it. Being a reader herself, she taught us through example to love reading. It's only once I became an adult that I realized how many families actually don't read, or don't even have any books in their houses. I was lucky to grow up with books all around me and can't wait to introduce my favorites to Milo & Nora.
• My mother showed us by example how to have healthy attitudes towards food and exercise. She would make homemade fruit leather for our lunch boxes, while other kids had twinkies. She provided healthy food and never, ever talked about things like weight or dieting. We were an active family, involved in outdoor activities and gymnastics and camping and skiing and all kinds of things, but that was just a normal part of life. I have zero memories of any discussion of any of that throughout my entire childhood and adolescence. So I was spared any dysfunction about weight issues, and never even thought about my weight until I was out of college. It's only as an adult that I realized how unusual that was, and what a blessing it was. I want to do the same thing for Milo but especially for Nora, given all of the pressures that young girls face now. 
• One time my sister and I gave my mother a Siamese kitten for her birthday, and now, thinking back on it, I can only imagine what she must have thought of that little surprise. But she never let on that it was anything other than the greatest birthday gift ever, which shows an amazing amount of empathy. 
• You know that rule about how, if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all? My mother actually follows that rule. Which is kind of amazing in its own right, and extra amazing given some of the things that happened to her when we were growing up. I think it helps children grow up secure, when their home is an environment lacking in negative gossip. 
• My mother never laughed at my bad haircuts, which shows an amazing amount of restraint given that it was the 80's. I never got the impression that she ever saw me as anything other than lovely, even when I was decidedly not so, and that's something I hope that I can help Nora and Milo carry around in their bones, that certainty that they are just fine and wonderful.

When Milo and Nora reach the childhood anger tantrum phase, I hope that I can be patient and return their "I hate you"'s with "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, because I love you." I hope that I can help them feel better when they're crying by listening to them and then telling them an interesting story to distract them. I hope that I'll be open-minded enough to let them have annoying pets like hamsters and parakeets. I hope that I'll remember to send them cards and packages when they go off to college. I don't know if I'll manage all of this, but I'm lucky to have a good model for it.

Oh, yeah, it's my mother's birthday today. She's some insanely young age, and looks even younger than that. Happy birthday!