Wednesday, March 14, 2012

The Boondocked Mama

I remember as a child often wondering why my mom was so boring.

I’d stand at the edge of the Troy Municipal Swimming Pool, preparing to do a cannonball, and glance back to see her stretched out on a lounge chair, reading a book. Incomprehensible. Why would a person with functional arms and legs actually choose to sit solitary, reading, when all the excitement of an over-chlorinated and over-populated swimming pool lay ten feet away. Turds bobbing near the drainage spout and lip-locked teenagers wouldn’t deter me for a second. There was adventure to be had in those fluorescent blue waters.

I’d long given up trying to coax my mom to join me. “No, you go ahead and play with your friends. I’m just gonna sit here and read,” she’d respond with a smile. So off I’d run after my pals and make the mental promise that I would never be that way when I grew up.

Fast forward about 25 years and who is that woman in the matronly swimming suit, draped over a beach chair, dozing (and perhaps drooling) in the sun? Yep, it’s me.

Now I, like my mother so many years ago, sit on the beach, cursing the sand and pooh-poohing all the requests from my children to “help me make a sandcastle” or “splash in the water with me”. All the frivolity is simply too taxing for me. I hide under my sunhat, avoiding eye contact and playing deaf with anyone under the age of 20.

How did this happen? When did I make this evolution from the frolicking child to the boondocked mama? I’ll tell you exactly when it happened: 8 ½ years ago when I became the mother of a blue-eyed little baby boy. From that moment on, he, and our children that would follow him, slowly soaked up the child that I had been. In 24 years of life, I’d created quite a sea of energy, sleep, and creativity. And they, like 4 gigantic sponges, laid themselves upon my surface and started absorbing, till what is now left is a quickly evaporating puddle leftover after a mid-summer rain.

I love that the child in me is carried on in them. I smile as I watch their spindly, pale arms packing down buckets of wet sand to build castle walls the way I did decades ago. I laugh as they discover the warm thrill of peeing in the ocean, a tactic I often used to take the chill off the icy waves. Still, I look forward to the day when my puddle increases again as they, one by one, wring out their sponges to create a vast sea for children of their own, just as my mom created an ocean for me.

But until then, I'll tend my weary puddle with sun-bathed naps and ample sunscreen...and wait patiently for the rainy season.

15 comments:

  1. Beautiful post, Maile!

    And if you are at Siesta Beach... the sand is too beautiful to curse :)

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    1. Thanks, Janet! We weren't at Siesta Beach, but the stretch we did occupy was rather breathtaking. Still, the sand, oh, the sand, how it vexes me!

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  2. Oh how I love this. You are truly a soul sister. I just really get this, and you, and Shawn was right-- you are a gifted writer. Can't wait to read you and know you more.

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    1. Tamara, thank you so much for reading and for your ever-so-kind comment. I love pursuing this path of motherhood with like minds and hearts, so I truly appreciate your empathy. Makes me feel a little less crazy and a little more like simply "a mama":) Thanks again!

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  3. I look forward to reading your blogs. Your descriptions are spot on and create such a vivid picture. I can totally relate. I wish i had the energy to be less mom like and more child like.

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  4. I completely echo your desire to be more child like. Isn't that always the dream?! But I also like to embrace the fact that we are moms and it is tiring work and sometimes the energy just isn't there...and that's okay, too. It's all about balance. Thankfully, we moms are tight-rope masters:)

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  5. WOW! Beautiful, Maile. So beautiful. It makes me want to buy a matronly swimsuit. . .

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    1. Oh, Andi, you are too kind, my friend:) But really, I love the skirted bathing suits that officially put me in the "Mom" category. I tell myself that they aren't like those old lady get-ups that look like you have a full-sized bed sheet draped around your thighs, but I may be wearing rose-colored sunglasses. I'm sure all the teenagers giggle and say "Look at that woman in her 'Mom-suit'". So be it.

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  6. This makes me miss you even more!! I seriously felt emotions rise up that come every year when this exact scene plays out on our family beach trip. Moms aren't fun to play with - why don't kids realize that? ( ;
    Enjoy the sun!!
    Mary June

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  7. "In 24 years of life, I’d created quite a sea of energy, sleep, and creativity. And they, like 4 gigantic sponges, laid themselves upon my surface and started absorbing, till what is now left is a quickly evaporating puddle leftover after a mid-summer rain."

    yes. yes. yes. and if my stage in life (4 kids 16-23) is any indicator, you WILL capture some of your own child again. eventually. as The Great Need changes from caregiver to guide. ah what a ride...sigh.

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    1. Thanks for your comment, Stacy, and more importantly, thank you for the advice you gave to Shawn, which he then imparted to me. I wish I could have been there in person to listen along, but alas, the children...

      It's so encouraging to see a mother doing her duties to both her children and herself--you are an inspiration.

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  8. Beautiful and so true, thanks for sharing...makes me feel a little better, as that's the kind of mom I am. I try to convince myself that's ok to not want to play with Barbie or make sandcastles, but the guilt is still there.

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    1. Thanks so much for sharing, Gabi, and so true what you say about the guilt. It haunts us, doesn't it?

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  9. So very true. Love reading your words. Such a skill for capturing real life but with so many levels of insight into the day to day of it all. When are you and Shawn going to write something together? D

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  10. I truly appreciate your comments; thanks so much for taking the time to share them. As for a writing project for Shawn and I together, huh... I kind of like that idea. We'll see what the future holds:)

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