Discrepancy.
Friday, June 11, 2010

Moms get it.  It's hard to describe to anyone not blessed to be in that particular club.  But we get it.  The natural discrepancy that happens in the love between moms and their children.  The peaceful knowledge that my kids will never, ever feel the intense and all-encompassing love for me that I feel for them.  Of course they love me, yes, (on my good days, adore me even!); but they won't even begin to comprehend that THIS particular brand of fierce and devoted love even exists...until they have their own children.


Their first week of Kindergarten, I think of them every day, all day.  I know they don't think of me beyond the first few nervous minutes.  As it should be.

I know when they go on their first date, I'll bite my nails, pray fervently that they act wisely, and think of them constantly until I hear they've arrived safely back home.  And during those first dates, they won't think of me once.  As it should be.

When they grow up and leave the nest, I know the emotion of that season will nearly consume me.  I'll fret about what my home and heart will be like without them under my roof.  I'll think about them daily as they navigate real life without me.  And except for those rare moments of homesickness on particularly hard days, they won't give home (or mom) more than an occasional passing thought.  As it should be. 

Even now when I watch them receive awards or reach exciting milestones, they have no way of knowing the ridiculous, embarrassing, tear-inducing pride I feel in them.  No way they can understand how my heart swells with more emotion and pride in them, than anything I ever felt when receiving accolades for myself.  They don't know, and wouldn't understand if I tried to explain it.  They don't think about the pride I'm feeling in them; in fact, beyond catching my eye and giving me a grin, they don't think about me at all in those moments.   As it should be.

It's so strange to reflect on my own childhood, through the lens I now have as a parent.  To think about my Mom sitting in the audience all those many times, watching me have my "moments". Countless awards assemblies, talent shows, plays, graduations....Of course I knew she was proud of me, but there is no way I could have really understood her pride and love back then as I understand it now.

How ironic that when we tell our kids "I love you", that they won't (indeed, can't truly know what we mean by those three little words until years later.  When they've told their own kids.  When they've loved in that way that only a parent can.  

-------------------------------

It's the following video that inspired these thoughts, and has me feeling so reflective.  If you are a parent, please watch it.  (The part where she talks about the gallon of milk made me start bawling uncontrollably.  Watch it and let me know when the tears start for you!)

 

ht: Strategic Dads






4 Comments:
Blogger StephCliff had this to say:

Thanks, Starr... That's REALLY what my hormones needed today. :)

Good thoughts & a good video. But next time warn me before I read your blog at work again! Ha!

June 11, 2010 at 1:44 PM 


Blogger Lori had this to say:

Well said Starr!! I am going to post a link to your blog on mine.

June 14, 2010 at 2:32 PM 


OpenID cashclanjapan had this to say:

Oh, what a beautiful post. That video had me bawling like a baby.

June 18, 2010 at 9:59 AM 


Blogger Gombojav Tribe had this to say:

That's what I was trying to say in a recent post about my ordinary days. That was so beautiful. Thank you for sharing! The milk part got me, too! I really didn't think I would cry when it started, but I was SO WRONG!

July 5, 2010 at 6:26 PM 


Post a Comment

Back To the Main Page







Cliff Familyt

I'm Starr Cliff. A domestically-challenged mom, climbing over mountains of laundry to bring you my stray observations and amusing stories about my kids. (more)

 







 



  • Crafts
  • Serious Laundry Lady Posts
  • Food
  • Friends
  • Home Management
  • KidMin
  • Speech Language Pathology


  •  



    Design by: soapbox.SUPERSTAR