Mother's Day Weekend

Tough day yesterday. Sales were great, and even though the day is long, from getting up at 5:00 am to usually getting home and unloaded at about 7:30 pm, it's usually manageable and I'm used to it and happy to be that strong. Standing on concrete, even on my little rug, is really hard on my right foot, the one I broke. I have a lot more sympathy for people in pain now and when I see someone limping with obviously sore feet, I can relate to how that forms the expression on your face and the resilience for all other things. I need to be more diligent about taking my vitamins and anti-inflammatories and figure out some better strategies. My friend tells me that walking in place would be better than just standing, and I am aware that I often put my weight on my right side instead of standing on both feet...just a bad 66-year-old habit.

About ten blocks from home the trailer began to get very heavy...unbelievably so, and sure enough, I had a flat tire. This was well after 6:30 and on a quiet stretch of 12th St., but I still got a little adrenal. What do you do when your entire Saturday Market set-up is sitting by the curb, impossible to secure, and you need to make a new plan? I could have done better, but it worked out. Two young guys were skateboarding in a driveway, so I asked them if they would watch it for me, and hobbled home to get my car.

As I ran/walked down the street, I almost went back, because in my haste I had not bothered to lock my bike or trailer...first clue that I was not thinking well. I had quickly evaluated that I could only lock one of them anyway, and the load with the sticks on top and tomato plants and really super flat tire was barely moveable and would hardly look worth unloading, even for the valuable trailer. Yet I put all my trust in these two young strangers and for the ten or fifteen minutes it took me, they had a lot of responsibility. If I had come back to a pile of nothing or tubs or a trailer without a bike, I would have had no one to blame but myself. It was a little shocking in a way. If I had been thinking clearly I would have ridden the bike home and just left the trailer, locked. Guess I was a bit in panic mode, good to observe for the future. Next time I should stop, sit for a minute, and think it through to minimize risk.

But I had spent the previous evening out on the corner of my street watching the protest and scene at the Trump speech at the Fairgrounds, and I felt like I knew my town and my neighborhood well. These young men were just enjoying the summerlike evening out in front of a group house that I had passed a zillion times and I knew many people on the block and all along 12th had seen me go by. Maybe not these two, but some of their housemates, the woman across the street with all the cats, and that guy down the block who seems to do the maintenance and security for the whole block, had noticed me. I see him out all the time surveying his domain, picking up litter or cutting grass or just assessing. He was most likely aware. He had told me once that my tires were low, and although he used to mutter things I thought were complaints about me, these days he usually said a cheerful good morning when he saw me go by. I trundle down that street twice a day, twice a week. If it's anything like my block, everyone knows far more about me and my life than I think.

Needless to say, when I got back all was intact and I gave them some of my riches to buy some pizza or something and refused their offers of help. The load doesn't even really fit in my car, which is an amazing thing, and I ended up leaving the car there while I rode the empty trailer home on the flat rather than try to pile it on top of the Toyota. I will need to get it fixed tomorrow to get back on the road Tuesday, though I suppose I could use my car...just really don't want to. I;m glad I had the car as a fallback, since I really didn't want to call anyone for a rescue, but unloading and loading a few more times was way over the top for a day's workload. I finished at 8:30 pm and still had to eat and treat my foot pain (I slather it with pain cream and green salve and it's generally fine the next day.)

Thus I fell asleep in my chair, missing SNL, and slept until almost ten this morning, dreaming about a baby I accidentally killed and lost (it was made out of some green clay and it wasn't my fault, I swear.) Mother's Day usually makes me go over my best and worst parenting moments and my assessment is pretty harsh overall. Part of the reason we have the Hallmark holiday is, to my mind, to say all is forgiven. No mother does it all right, especially in her secret thoughts where there has to be at least a smidgen of resentment or selfish wishes to be free of responsibility. Mothering is a long day every day for a couple of decades, and sometimes more. I feel successful in that I don't really have to worry about my precious and wonderful child (who has no equal to my mind, as per the mothering code.) I turned 66 this week. It is unlikely that I will see his end (god I hope I don't) and he is married and launched and mostly I get to just celebrate his successes and give him help with what he needs if he asks. I've had a long and quiet separation period and I'm fortunate in that I like being and living alone so I miss him but don't long for his return to my home so much. I'd love to share more time, of course, but I think I've adjusted fairly well.

The downside of these Hallmark holidays is all the comparing we do, thanks to advertising. My ideal relationship with him would be more like those commercials...I'd have more kids, too, which in reality would likely have not worked out as well as the TV version does. I didn't have any abortions, thanks be, but if I had been less lucky and started out earlier to be a Mom, things would have been way different. By 39 when I did get pregnant (on purpose) I had had some time to work on some of my psychological challenges, and was ready to focus on a child. I got to be more devoted than I would have at a younger age. I didn't pass on much trauma or drama, though of course there was some, and his perspective is different from mine for sure.

Having my birthday so close to Mother's Day always brings up a lot for me, self-assessment, thinking about the short balance of my years, my work and health challenges, my plan (more like a lack of one) for a realistic transition to the end. It won't be nearly as graceful as my 90-year-old Mom's plan, but you never know. I've learned so amazingly much from her, and continue to. I've depended on her as my rock of security for all of this time. Things have definitely shifted and now I'm more depended upon in some ways, but Mom has always given me what I needed even when I didn't ask. Love doesn't describe the gifts: my ability to trust that people are good and worthy of trust, my willingness to work hard and keep working, my great love for the natural world and all that is in it, my intelligence and compassion. She gave me the gift of siblings and the large family that we enjoy. She told me that I could have a child, and that if anything happened she would be my back-up. She always has a supportive thing to say whenever I am worried or anxious, pointing out that I have always managed so far, and have what it takes.

Mothers are so essential to us it is easy to take them for granted. It's almost a compliment to be trusted to be okay with whatever we get in return, and keep giving the love. It's not love that depends on proof or is conditional to what we get. That kid was a part of my body for a long time, and not very far from it for a longer one. He's a miracle I got to participate in. That's so much more profound and larger than love. I'm just filled with gratitude that I got to be there for that, and without my own Mom, I would probably have been too scared to try it. I'm glad I sent her a card and we're about to have our weekly phone chat. I'm glad I got tickets for us all to be together in July. Moms are it. We are special. I feel lucky to be in the club.