Parenting
When it comes to motherhood, my own experience has been far from that of a picture-perfect family. My mother isn’t a bad person; she simply doesn’t fit the mold of idealized figures like Carol Brady or June Cleaver. Growing up, she seemed lost and overwhelmed, perhaps still is. She experimented with various hobbies, from macramé to more troubling substances, and while she had moments of charm, there were also times when she was emotionally absent. It’s as if she struggled to grasp the magnitude of her role in my life. I often felt she was just trying to stay afloat.
Despite her shortcomings, she was a gifted seamstress. She crafted upholstered dollhouse furniture with ruffled dust skirts that I cherished long after the store-bought items fell apart. I wore dresses she meticulously sewed from patterns we’d selected together, and she taught me how to make embroidered pillows, crochet blankets, and knit hats and scarves. If I had lived in a Jane Austen novel, those skills would have served me well.
However, in the context of the late 20th century, these “womanly arts” weren’t exactly what I needed. You could say my mother’s focus was misplaced; while she ensured I could tie off a hem, she overlooked essential life lessons like personal hygiene, dating, and makeup. There were moments when she seemed surprised that she needed to guide me, and I quickly learned I had to navigate life on my own.
I walked myself to school at the age of 5.
Because my mother was unable to guide me through crucial life lessons, she inadvertently created a void that pushed me to seek out my own support system. Forget knitting scarves and hats; I needed a security blanket of sorts. Without a strong maternal bond, I spent my teenage years and into my 30s piecing together a network of women who could fill in the gaps my mother left.
I drew from friends, teachers, and family members—each with their own unique qualities:
- Mia fed me and introduced me to alternative therapies to improve my well-being. She taught me how to create a family of choice rather than one based solely on obligation.
- Lila hired me to babysit her kids and often slipped me extra cash for little treats.
- Sara ensured I had the right attire for special occasions and shared her favorite recipes for delicious desserts.
- Clara took me on vacations and advised me to never place a man’s needs above my own aspirations, though she often expressed disappointment over my marital status.
- Nina let me stay after school to assist with grading papers and affirmed my intelligence.
I wove these women into a tapestry of support, determined to keep my newfound stability intact. I studied their ways, absorbing their affection and wisdom. They became my makeshift mothers, unlocking the secrets I needed to understand both my own upbringing and how to eventually become a parent. Miraculously, they succeeded.
From each of these women, I gathered invaluable lessons. I pieced together the attributes of a mother from my eclectic mentors. This realization has led me to understand a crucial truth: we all do our best with what we have. Perfection in motherhood is a myth. Instead, there are women who are simply doing their best, each with their own flaws and strengths. For those of us who didn’t have the “perfect” mother, the lesson is clear: you must seek out what you need on your own.
This insight is perhaps the most significant lesson my mother imparted to me.
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In summary, while my mother may not have been the ideal figure, her imperfections taught me resilience and resourcefulness. By seeking guidance from diverse women in my life, I learned the value of community and the importance of crafting my own path.
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