10:47 am
It might seem odd that I am posting a picture of my handfasting cake from last June on a my mother’s birthday post, but truth be told I do not have a picture of my mother. You would think I would have a photo of the two of us together from somewhere but I simply don’t. Maybe it is because she has almost always been the one taking the photos.
My mother and my grandma made that beautiful wedding cake for Michael and my handfasting, and I adored it, not only was it beautiful, it was fruitcake (yes, I am one of those people who adore fruitcake.) My mother is a very creative person, she draws, paints, sculpts, sews (when needed, it isn’t her favorite craft by any means) as well does a plethora of random artistic endeavors (batik, bonsais, cooking, interior design, gardening, mosaics etc.) When I was very young, she made me a tinkerbell costume for Halloween with tiny real lights in the skirt so it twinkled. Everyone thought my parents had bought it for me because it was so perfect. As I got older she began to teach me a variety of arts and crafts, I was never limited in what I was allowed to be interested in (as long as I cleaned up.) She would go out of her way to make sure I had the supplies I needed. I got my creativity “bug” from my mom.
Before my family moved to France, my mother worked for a parasitologist at North Carolina State University College of Veterinary Medicine. There were always tons of cool animals at the university (I often went to work with her before I started school.) Her boss had a tank full of poison dart frogs as well as lots of parasite specimens in jars, which might explain why very few things gross me out… I also got to see white tiger cubs as they were part of a breeding program and lots of other exotic animals. A couple times I went out with my mom to the fish farms she inspected too. I got my love for animals from my mother. We always had dogs and cats and I usually always had an (enormous) fish tank.
After we moved to France a lot of stuff changed, my dad got a really good job and was at work more and and my mother became a stayed-at-home mom. My brother and I started going to private schools and she was always thereto help with the mountains of homework we had, as well as bail us out of the trouble we got into at school (which may have been frequently.) I retrospect I think she had a really hard time adjusting to life overseas, she was half a world away from her family (with whom she was very close to) and wasn’t really ever able to pick up the local languages. I don’t know how she felt about becoming a stay-at-home mom, she couldn’t work as she wasn’t able to get a work visa.
I know that I was very hard on her once I hit puberty. We are both equally stubborn and both have that kind of anger that simmers for a long time before going off like an atom bomb. Whenever we sat down to talk it out it would turn into epic battles. Eventually we pretty much stopped talking, especially after my brother went off to college.
In January 2004 we were living in Spain and I turned 18. I dropped out of school and a week later I had a plane ticket and moved to the USA to live with extended family for a few months. The day I left we did not even see each other as my flight was so early in the morning. Neither of us said goodbye. In September of that year I moved to Spokane to live with Michael. I never called her to tell her I was moving (nor did I call her when we got a civil union in December.) She found out through family I guess. I don’t think we spoke for the first year after I left home, which I am sure was as up and down for her as it was for me, my dad and her went their separate ways in that time (though their relationship is so complicated I won’t even pretend to understand it!)
It was three and a half years after I left home that I saw her again. She came to Michael and my handfasting and was here for a few days. I feel like I should have done more to connect with her but I didn’t, I wasn’t sure how to act to be honest. We had both changed so much but still had a lot of wounds.
My mom and I talk a couple times a year. She lives with my grandma now and they can be quite a challenge to keep track of, moving frequently between Ontario, Indianapolis and Florida. Emailing doesn’t ever seem to work out for us (she doesn’t have access in Canada.) She knows I am pregnant and has sent stuff for the baby as well as for my birthing necklace, we exchange Christmas gifts as well. I will call her after the baby is born of course. I do want her to know her grandson. I want to get to know her again and for her to get to know this very different me but I feel it will take a lot of time for us to rebuild our bridges. Sometimes i wonder if it is even possible.
So maybe this isn’t the most joyful birthday post, but it is honest. We have certainly had our trial by fire but I feel like things have begun improving in the past year. I love my mother very much and I know she sacrificed a lot of herself so that my brother and I could have as stable of a home as possible and a good education. And in spite of the teenage battles to be different from her in every way, we are in fact very similar and I don’t mind anymore.
Happy birthday Mom, I hope you have a wonderful one.
We have been through a lot but I still love you very much, I always will.
