For All the Moms Who Still Need Their Mom

Today my husband came home from work with an opened letter in his hand and an irritated look on his face. I gave him a questioning look through the storm door as he walked toward the house. It was a letter from our daughter’s school. With some apprehension I read the first few lines. 

It stated that Gemma had three unexcused absences so far this school year. It went on to lecture us about the importance of attendance and securing doctor’s notes when your child is sick, et cetera, et cetera. Now, I know what some of you might be thinking: she’s just in kindergarten, it’s not a big deal if she misses sometimes. But Andrew and I both had the same reaction to the letter. We were offended, because we try extremely hard to get her to school every day that we possibly can and neither of us thought this was entirely accurate record keeping.

After reviewing the dates she had missed, we came to a conclusion: the first absence, back in October, was the day after Izzy, her new baby sister, was born. We had originally decided that she would keep her routine and not miss any school unless absolutely necessary, but when the time came, we softened and let her have a day off to come visit me and Izzy in the hospital. So that was that. Unexcused. 

The third date was last week, when she missed a day due to fever. I ended up taking her to the pediatrician later in the week and had a note written that would excuse her for any missed school that week. Except that the letter that we received today was dated the day after I bent over backwards to get her back to school after her morning sick visit once she was cleared by the doctor (think hauling three kids 35 minutes to the pediatrician’s office, then a record-breaking-fast Chick-fil-A lunch, then 20 minutes back to school with Gemma complaining the whole way because she didn’t want to go, all so that she wouldn’t miss the second half of the day and get behind in her work; yeah, most parents would’ve probably said screw it and kept her home. So you can understand why this letter irked me). They probably hadn’t had a chance to enter the doctor’s note. I’d make sure that was rectified. 

I realize this seems trivial and that I’m probably rambling. But this isn’t actually a post about making sure your kids go to school, or making sure you remember to get a doctor’s note when you take your child to the doctor. Or even about the strict rules surrounding public school attendance. 

This post is about that second absence. And my mother. 

The second absence was in November and try as we might, Andrew and I could not remember why Gemma was absent that day. She’s rarely sick, and when she is, it typically warrants a trip to see the doctor, say, for an ear infection. So I checked her online MyChart account to see if perhaps we had taken her in and we had just forgotten to get a note. Or if maybe we had sent a note but it had gotten lost in the paper shuffle of the classroom or front office. But no, no visit in November. I checked the Class Dojo app to see if I had messaged her teacher the night before the November absence, explaining that Gemma wouldn’t be at school the next day and perhaps why, but again, no luck. I know, a little obsessive.

Then it hit me. I knew, without a doubt, where I would have documented Gemma’s illness and subsequent absence.

So I pulled out my phone again and started scrolling. I literally scrolled for a solid 10 minutes, all the way back to November 12, 2019. Until I came across what I was looking for.

    Me:  Well, Gemma's puking now. Can I resign? Well, I should say she puked during the night, then again at 6am, so I was up for the first one, and I've been up since 6, with baby in between. And now Andrew, Gemma, and Izzy are still snoozing in our room and I'm up with Link because he wouldn't to back to sleep when Gem woke him

   Mom: Sorry... no way to stuff them back inside

   Me:  Oh, and Lincoln vomited last night again because he gagged on his toothbrush. At least he got it in the sink. He went to school and was fine all day yesterday.

   Mom: Gosh... the barf days, I remember them well, unfortunately. Your family is gathering their own puke stories for future telling.

I knew that if one of the kids was sick or hurt, the first person (after Andrew) I would turn to is my mom.

My mother, Carol, gave birth to and was a stay-at-home-mom to eight kids, six boys and two girls. We grew up in a loud, typically chaotic house, and I have thousands of fond memories of family dinners, days spent outside in the sun and mud, riding bikes, morning cartoons, Sunday morning scrambles to get us all to church, sibling rivalries, a menagerie of pets. But all these memories are underpinned by a constant. My mom. So, needless to say, there is likely nothing that she hasn’t dealt with as a parent. She is a veritable encyclopedia of mom knowledge, and the only one whom I can tell all the gritty details of motherhood to without apology.

Also, my mom has always made time for me and my kids, even with her eight children, six sons-and-daughters-in-laws, ten grandchildren, two cats, and dog. She works part time, helps to care for her disabled younger brother, keeps a clean house (even when all us kids were still living at home) and a beautiful yard. And still manages to remember everyone’s birthdays, including those of her six siblings as well. Even with all this, my phone calls and texts never go unanswered. 

But above all, I turn to my mother because I trust her.

Our relationship hasn’t always been perfect, but despite the things life has sent to trip us both up, I have always trusted her. I was a teenager not *too* long ago, and even when I didn’t always understand the rules my parents made, I trusted her that she loved me and did what she thought best. 

I used to think that our relationship was typical. That most other daughters were as close or closer to their moms than I was. But a couple of years ago, I was chatting with a mom friend from Gemma’s old preschool and I mentioned off-hand how my mom and I texted every day. “That’s so great.” She said. “I wish I had that kind of relationship with my mom. We are barely on speaking terms.”

That stuck with me. I suddenly realized just how lucky I was to have a mom that I could talk with openly about anything, at any time, without having to filter my thoughts as we all have to do with some people. So many filters for so many people... it’s often exhausting. But not with my mom. I know that no matter what words I need to say to her, what situation I need help with, she will hear it all and love me anyway.

So here’s to all the moms that are there for their kids. Thank you for being our confidants, our sounding boards, our champions. You are extraordinary, and we appreciate you, even when we are often too busy detailing to you the exact consistency of your grandchild’s latest diaper to tell you so. We know that you worry, and pray, over us every day, and that we are just as important to you as you are to us.

Thank you for being our safe place, and our best friend. We truly don’t know how we would do life, or especially parenthood, without you.