It’s going to be my blog tradition to post only once per year. This year, I’ve decided to honor the mother I had and the mother I hope to be.

Some of you may know this and most of you can imagine with relative ease how I, shy though I may be, would have dreamed of a life on the stage. I’ve given many acceptance speeches to my reflection wherein I thanked my high school drama teacher for pushing me to greatness. And, of course, I thanked my mama, like you do.

Tonight, I visited Lauren’s new middle school. (Dear grammar grannies: I know, relax. It really does have something to do with the first paragraph. My writing style is very much like my thought process. Thus it changes speed and you have to stick around to the end for it to all make sense.) The school will open this fall and they held an open house for 5th and 6th graders. They asked parents to complete an interest form – a piece of paper where the children indicate what they are interested in participating in (athletic mostly) and the parents indicate what we are interested in participating in (financial mostly) – and as Lauren chose softball, I chose athletic boosters. On the way home, I started thinking about all that might require of me, but quickly decided that being involved with Lauren and all things Lauren related is a priority for me. I will simply make time. Her success is more important than my agenda.

As we pulled back onto the complex, something made me hopeful that one day, she would stand and give an acceptance speech of her own. Something a little like this:

My mother wasn’t perfect, but she was there.
My mother didn’t always hug me, but she loved me.
My mother didn’t have all the answers, but she listened to the questions.
My mother didn’t always cook, but I never went hungry.
My mother couldn’t always rescue me, but she never turned her back on me.
My mother didn’t give me the good life, but she lived a good life with me.
And that made all the difference.

Sometimes I get so caught up in those teachable moments that I forget it’s probably not the moments Lauren will remember. There will be a few that will stand the test of her memory and time, but I don’t remember the moment I learned that lying was wrong. One day I just gave in to the fact that my mother was a spy and she had other spy mother friends who had a spy mother network and they monitored my every move. (Don’t, for one moment, think that I don’t leave hints and clues to the same around my house. For all Lauren knows, I am a mind-reading, omnipresent freak of a mother with trickery she will never comprehend.) Tonight, though, I think that I got a glimpse of the future as I daydreamed that one day Lauren would thank me for being there, loving her, listening, providing, consoling, and living life with her. And that may make all the difference in my sanity.