Lovely and Long-Suffering, Indeed

My Dad is a journalist.  He has worked for many different newspapers around the country.  He is also an incredible writer, and at various times throughout his career, he has written a weekly column for the paper.  He has been known for writing about particularly controversial topics.  You know, politics and such.  But he has also written about our family upon many occasions.  Since my mother is his companion…his other half…he eventually established an acronym which he used any time he referred to her in a column.  She became known as the “L.L.M.B.”…standing for the “Lovely and Long-suffering Mrs. Beck”.  This became an amusing joke among the members of our family.  However, as I get farther and farther into motherhood, I am realizing the real truth that lies behind this well-deserved title.  But not because she was my dad’s wife…because she was a mother to me and my 3 siblings.

My mother is long-suffering, for sure.  Right now, I am only 3 years, 3 months, and 9 days into parenting.    I have changed countless diapers (6 months of cloth diapering with one of my kids, which in my opinion falls in another category entirely).  I do heaps of laundry every week…and when we’re in a phase where my 3-year old has decided he’s a big fan of peeing in his pants, those heaps are multiplied.  I make my best effort at putting together 3 healthy meals nearly 7 days a week for me and my family.  Sometimes, the entire plate gets tossed on the floor by my 1-year old.  I strive to spend quality time with each of my boys every day.  My oldest occasionally tries to act 13, rather than 3, and tunes me out, saying, “I just want to listen to my music.”

If I were to really sit and write down everything that I do on a daily basis as a mother, the list would go on forever.  This is not, however, meant to toot my own horn.  Instead, I say all this because being a mother makes me appreciate my own mother more than I ever did before.  She has been a mom for 35 years…30 of those years to me.  She cloth diapered me and my siblings.  She did our laundry each and every week (which, by the way, it’s a wonder how she stayed on top of it… with a family of 6, the piles of dirty clothes were like mountains).  She cooked every single night, and I’m certain not every meal was followed by a, “Thanks, Mom, that was wonderful!”

My mom also managed to make time for each of us.  Sometimes, this meant stopping her morning tasks to sit and snuggle with us on the couch when we’d first wake up.  Or creating a fun project for us to work on when we’d moan the words, “I’m bored.”  Or reading books to us.  Or letting us help her make cookies.  Or taking the time to teach a song on the piano.

I don’t remember my mother ever rolling her eyes when we’d ask her to do these things, or saying, “Sorry, I don’t have time for you right now.”  Although, I’m sure at times she didn’t…after all, there were 4 of us.  Unfortunately, I do remember rolling my eyes.  I do remember not having time for her. In my teenage years especially, it was a common thing for me to shrug her off to do things with my friends, who at the time seemed more important.

My mother is long-suffering, indeed.  Because right now, only 3 years, 3 months, and 9 days into this, I get my feelings hurt so easily.  When I’ve spent all day trying to be super mom to my boys, and the minute their Dad gets home from work, they want nothing to do with me.  I can’t even begin to imagine how I’m going to feel the first time one of my children storms back to their room, slams the door in my face, and yells, “I hate you!”  I hope that never happens, but chances are, it will.  I know for a fact my mother has had many doors slammed in her face.  And I’m sure it hurt her feelings too.  But she never let us know it.  And most importantly, she never gave up.

My mother is lovely.  She is the perfect picture of inner and outer beauty, combined to make the most lovely person that I know.  She is kind.  She is gentle.  She is patient.  She is loving.  She is a good listener.  She is a good advice-giver.  She is forgiving.  She is quirky (which I think is a huge part of what makes her lovely).  She loves to have fun.  She is creative.  She is good at everything she does.  She is beautiful.

My mother has certainly lived up to her title.  She is lovely.  She is long-suffering.  I hope and pray that when I am 35 years into parenthood, my children will be able to say the same things about me.  Today I honor her.  Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.