Let’s get one thing straight: my mom isn’t a bad person. She’s just not exactly the poster child for motherhood. No Carol Brady or June Cleaver here! Growing up, she seemed a bit lost and overwhelmed, and honestly, she might still be. She dabbled in various hobbies, from people to macramé to, um, other distractions. Charming one moment and absent the next, I don’t think she really grasped the weight of the role she was supposed to play in my life. It felt like she was merely trying to stay afloat.
Now, on the bright side, she was a fantastic seamstress! She crafted dollhouse furniture with ruffled skirts that I cherished long after the store-bought toys fell apart. I wore dresses she made from patterns carefully pinned to fabric we picked out together. She introduced me to the art of embroidery, crochet, and knitting—skills that would have made me an excellent lady’s maid in a Jane Austen novel.
While those skills were charming, they didn’t exactly prepare me for life as a girl growing up in the late 20th century. You could say she had her priorities a bit skewed. Sure, I learned how to hem a dress, but she often overlooked whether my hair was washed or my clothes were clean. The crucial lessons about shaving legs, dating, or makeup never made it onto her to-do list. It seemed like she was sometimes surprised that she had to manage me, and I quickly understood that I was expected to take care of myself. So, I did.
I strolled to school solo at the age of five. Because my mom didn’t consciously guide me through life, she created a bit of a gap—one that pushed me to seek out my own forms of support. Instead of knitting scarves and hats, I wove together a security blanket of sorts, gathering women who could fill in the blanks of what my mother didn’t provide.
I found these incredible women among friends, teachers, and relatives. They came from all walks of life: extroverts, artists, homemakers, career women, and even widows.
- Lila fed me and suggested I try yoga to ease my stress. She helped me understand that family is what you choose, not just who you’re born to.
- Margo hired me to babysit her kids, slipping me cash for things I couldn’t afford.
- Tina made sure I had the right outfits for special occasions and shared her famous recipes for apple cake and banana bread.
- Clara took me on summer adventures and insisted I never put a partner before my own dreams, though she passed away hoping I would find love.
- Fiona let me hang out after school, helping her grade papers while reminding me that I was smart.
I knitted these relationships together with fierce determination, studying their wisdom and kindness while hoping they could unlock the secrets of motherhood. They did, in miraculous ways.
From each of these women, I gathered valuable lessons. I pieced together the mother I needed, realizing that we all face our unique challenges and that no mother is perfect. Instead of seeking the unattainable ideal, we learn to embrace the flaws and strengths that come with being human. For those with less than “perfect” mothers, it’s about finding your own way—something I think my mom inadvertently taught me.
So, if you’re feeling a bit lost, remember that it’s okay to seek out the support you need. Whether through friends or resources like this excellent guide on pregnancy and home insemination, you’re not alone.