Mystery of Motherhood

When I was growing up, my mom did not like getting her picture taken. In fact she avoided the camera pretty much. Pre-digital, people didn't seem to take so many pictures anyway. I sometimes lament that there are so few pictures of me taken from the time I left home until the time I met Adam. It is like they are lost years, though I kept journals during that time. But being such a visual person, it feels a little sad not to have the photos.

I feel the same about not having many photos of my mom. And likewise, I never knew my dad's mom and barely met my mom's mom. I piece together ideas of them through stories I've heard and lots of imagination. And a couple photographs to try to picture them as wives, women who were once girls.

But it is not just photos that are lacking. I think with the haze of motherhood that surrounds us moms, our individuality is buried somewhere. We spend our days figuring out how to best care for our families. We clean, we cook, we work. We structure time. We play with our kids.

I wonder what will be remembered? I know what I want June and little Fox to remember. I want them to remember me as available. As the creator of yummy things. As the source of original comfort. As a person who will always be there for them, no matter what. These things, and many more.

But I also hope that through this blog I leave enough clues about what I'm like that someday maybe if they look for me, they can find the woman behind the mom.

Mom, thanks for letting me get to know you during my years in Anchorage. If it weren't for that, you'd be lost behind foggy childhood memories and high school arguments. I'm happy for the time we had to get to know each other as people. And this adult experience, it just lets this whole idea of "motherhood" grow into something more.

To all the mothers on Mother's Day. To being whole people in addition to mothers.
To finding our places and confidence in who we are as moms.