Nothing to See Here…

I wrote the essay below 4 years ago when my big girls were 17 and 19, Sarah was 5, and Jadyn was just a baby.  Raena wasn’t even conceived in our minds much less my womb.  I just came upon it and thought I’d share it here on my blog.  It’s one of those pieces I worked on as if I was a real true writer.  Fair warning, like most of what comes out of my mind, it’s looong.

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“You’re not the same mom to Sarah that you were to me and Katie,” said my seventeen-year-old daughter, Amber, last month.

I froze. I knew it would happen sometime, but so soon? I had been preparing my defense against the ol’ you-ruined-my-life-with-bad-parenting argument for years. I knew that Amber couldn’t say a thing to me that I hadn’t already said to myself. I thought I was ready, but now that ‘the talk’ loomed before me, I wasn’t sure I could do it. More time – I needed more time! I figured my big girls would be well into their 20s before they figured out how badly I had messed up their lives!

Her point, however, was nonetheless valid. Sarah came along when I was in my 30s, and a more mature mother, to be sure. I was happily and securely married. I had, by that time, knowledge of what a 401K was as well as how an orgasm felt. My job was now considered a “career”. So, when Sarah was born eleven years after Amber, and thirteen years after Katie, I already knew I was a different mom. Now, nearly six years later, the proof was in the pudding.

Sarah had two parents who were dedicated to raising her. She never went to daycare. She didn’t have to sacrifice things she needed or even wanted for the good of a tight family budget. She never had to pack up and move to a new neighborhood. I was more settled in my skin, and was perhaps more calm and accepting as a mother. Some might even have claimed Sarah was spoiled, but we liked to refer to her as “indulged”.

By contrast, for Katie and Amber things were very different in their early years. I had married their father at the age of eighteen (it’s GOOD to make those life-altering decisions in that short window of time when you KNOW EVERYTHING).I had my first batch of daughters by the time I was twenty. Their lives could hardly be similar in any way to Sarah’s life. Their dad was often absent, and after the divorce was only an every-other-weekend experience. Money was tighter than the pre-pregnancy blue jeans that I had illusions about fitting back into. It wasn’t unusual to have the utility companies cut me off for non-payment. We had peanut butter and jelly more often than I care to recall. We moved three times in five years. Heck, at one point, we didn’t even own a car for nearly a year.

In addition to all of that, I was young and still very involved socially with all my friends, who were ever-present in our lives. At any given time, I would take off, my girls in tow, to the houses or apartments of friends, or else they would hang out at our place. There were parties and poker games, movie nights and game nights, camping trips and float trips. While these activities consumed our weekend nights, most weekend days were predetermined as well. Having to work on Saturday with no daycare available, my girls came with me. And Sundays were generally reserved for the laundromat.

Well, of course I felt guilty. I knew my big girls had grown up through some rough times. Financial hardship, divorce, instability… that was their playground. The time had come to pay the piper, but I wasn’t going into it without a fight.

“Well, Amber,” I began, “You know, Sarah’s life isn’t all unicorns and roses.” There, I had said it. I was prepared fully to assert my claims that Sarah, too, had experienced some hardships. I mean, sometimes we ran out of cherry Kool-Aid, which is her favorite. And she often loses one of her pink cowboy boots. And then there is her favorite doll whose hair no longer turns from pink to purple when you blow-dry it.

Oh, it was weak, at best. But I had to fight with what I had. I was ready. I would have gone through with it, too. Except Amber piped up, “I know, Mom. That’s what I’m saying. I feel sorry for Sarah. She doesn’t have the cool mom that WE had.”

Well, knock me over with a feather! This didn’t follow the script I had played in my head for so long. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I didn’t say anything at all. Amber continued.

“When we were little, you had so much energy. We were always going out, or else your friends came over. It was great. Plus we loved it when you came to our school. You were the young, hip mom and even wore cool clothes. Poor Sarah… now you are OLD and you wear, well, MOM clothes. Plus you never go places or have parties anymore. Remember how you used to have a costume party every Halloween? Gosh, those were fun!”

OK, so maybe I didn’t screw them up too badly by having an overly active social life.

“And we had some great times. Remember once when the electricity got turned off, and you lit all those candles and we told ghost stories? That was almost as good as the time the heat was shut off at our house and we had a pajama party in Grandma’s living room! And, you know, one of my favorite foods even today is Kiddie Hor d’ouvers” (author’s note: these are crackers with peanut butter and jelly, served open-faced, and topped with a slice of banana… a Mom-Katie-Amber original recipe). “My friends still think it’s funny that you made me and Katie distract the pizza delivery guy so he wouldn’t notice you had post-dated your check to them for your next payday. Sarah never gets to do any of that kind of stuff.”

OK, maybe they weren’t permanently scarred because of my pressing financial troubles during those years.

“And Sarah has never lived anywhere but here, and you guys will probably never move. I like the fact that we got to live in three other places, too. Katie likes the house on Itaska best, but my favorite was the flat on Atkins. Remember when C.J. jumped off the porch and sprained his ankle? That was when we had the matching Mickey Mouse sheet sets on our beds and Aunt Pammy was living with us. Neither of us can remember that first apartment, except from seeing the pictures, and you talking about how disgusting the roaches were. I guess we didn’t stay there too long.”

My panic was starting to wane. Could it be that my daughters could somehow elicit happy memories from those very same events which caused me to worry over my failures?

“The best, though, were the weekends. We loved going to your work with you on Saturdays. Remember how you let us bring our roller skates and skate around in the warehouse? Gosh, that was fun. And the laundromat – you always let each of us pick out one treat from the snack machine and we would get to split a soda, remember? I loved putting the dollar bills in the machine that gives all quarters. Me and Katie would stack up and count all the quarters. We thought we were RICH! To this day, when I smell laundry smells, it reminds me of those days.”

Wow. How far off can a mother be? My girls found happy memories during a time of adversity. Maybe we WERE rich! All these years, and I was feeling guilty instead of looking at it through their eyes. This was, after all, their childhood. Who cares that MY happy childhood memories had taken very different forms. I didn’t need to re-create those in order for my daughters to be happy. They found happiness from right there within their own unique circumstances.

Well, it’s just not right for a mother not to feel guilty about the upbringing she is giving her children, I thought. That day, my guilt shifted. I had been appeased that my best was good enough for Katie and Amber, after all. But now, what about little Sarah? I wasn’t cool or hip. She wasn’t allowed to have peanut butter and jelly every night. We never did anything fun - she had no IDEA how to play poker! What about her? Poor Sarah.

I was contemplating this recently while loading up four heaping hampers of dirty laundry in the back of the van and heading to the laundromat. It had been my custom, upon returning from a family vacation, to just go and get all the laundry done at one time. Sarah and I set out, she in her tutu and pink cowboy boots, and she could hardly contain her excitement. Oh, sure, it had probably been a year since we had been there last, but she remembered it well.

“Mommy, can I pick out a treat from the snack machine when we get there?”

“Of course,” I replied.

“And will you split an orange soda with me?”

“You got it,” I said.

“And can I put the dollars in?”

“I wouldn’t do it any other way,” I smiled.

When she still wouldn’t sit still, I said, “My goodness, Sarah, you’re a wiggly worm today. What in the world is the matter?”

“I just LOVE the laundry-mat, Mommy. It’s one of my favorite places. Thanks for letting me come with you!”

I once read a quote that said, “Life is what happens while you’re planning your life.” I think, in this case, a good revision might read, “Memories are what happen while you’re planning your memories.” Who knows if Sarah will remember a single thing from the family vacation? I do know, however, that the hours at the laundromat will leave their mark.

Historically, I have always hated the laundromat. To me, it represented my financial hardship and loads of grueling work. I now have a new perspective because I know that the many hours spent there are happy memories for my girls. My big girls carry plenty of happy memories from their childhood. Sarah will no doubt do the same. And I will rest assured our newest baby girl, Jadyn, will also find her own happy memories in all sorts of unexpected places.

So there you have it. I hereby release myself of all motherly guilt.