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Must do laundry, now where are my pearls?

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Reel Mama: Must do laundry, now where are my pearls?

Monday, May 9, 2011

Must do laundry, now where are my pearls?

It’s Mother’s Day, and today I’m thinking about my paternal grandmother, Bertha May Ivy, née Broadway.  My grandmother took motherhood to another level.  A modern-day Southern Belle decked out in pearls and petticoats in the fifties, she had dinner, prepared from scratch, always on the table by 5pm.  At that time, each day without fail, my grandfather walked through the door, home from his job as a manager at the aircraft manufacturing plant. 

Chocolate cake with lots of frosting was always up for dessert.  She even found the time to iron the sheets. She raised two kids and always had an impeccable appearance.  She went to the beauty shop every Saturday like clockwork, all without a babysitter or nanny.  How did she do it? I don’t know!

Flashforward to my life.  Every day my house looks like a bomb exploded, or we’ve been robbed (only nobody found anything worth taking.)  My uniform is not a silk dress and heels.  No, it’s an unwashed pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that I’ve had since high school, the same thing I wore yesterday in fact.  Makeup?  Hell no!  Shower?  Maybe, if I’m lucky.  Deodorant?  I’ll try to remember!  I’m not a good Southern Belle.  Dinner?  The same thing every night…a frozen Trader Joes entrée.  Dessert?  A few squares of dark chocolate (for my health, you know).

In fact, I’m sure my grandmother is looking down from heaven and frowning on this.  I’m sorry, Maw Maw!  Show me the way.  Show me how you did it!

So this is my world, a losing battle on the household chores front…but I know I won something very special when I became a mom.  Amid the tantrums and accidentally stepping on the peanut butter sandwiches tossed from the high chair, there are moments of sheer magic.  Like my daughter saying her name for the first time and pointing to herself.  Or even when she repeats a funny word (the latest was “nalga,” Spanish for butt cheek, during a diaper change). 

The truth is for moms that every day is Mother’s Day, and the greatest gift we can give ourselves is to enjoy the ride.

I’m about to go to bed now.  Maw Maw, I hate to tell you this, but I didn’t iron the sheets.  In fact, I never have, and I know I never will.  Oh well.  I won’t lose too much sleep over that one!


At May 10, 2011 at 8:22 AM , Blogger Leticia Alaniz said...

What a way to celebrate ourselves on the most difficult job in the world. Only mothers know the sacrifices and the effort, but also the joys and satisfaction of being a mother. Happy mopther's day to you and happy parenting everyday.


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