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| May '08, ASC: 3 generations of education graduate degrees |
30 years ago on this Mother’s Day,
my mom was only
a few days away from giving birth to a second child, her first
girl, and the first the granddaughters on both the Thomaston side and Gauthier
side. It was the 80’s and they only did the ultrasounds if there were suspected
problems, so she didn’t know if she was having a girl or a second son. The
story of my birth includes my Grandma Jane coming to my parent’s house, at
a
rainy, drizzly midnight, where a feverish toddler brother was being read
stories while my mom breathed through contractions. My grandmother, all 5 feet
of her, admonished my mother and pointedly said to my father, “I can read to
Neil for you. I CANNOT have this baby for you. Now go to the hospital.” (I was
born at 2:52, and would have been born sooner had the obstetrician even been at
the hospital. The nurses slowed my mother’s labor with drugs and instructed her
to wait on the pushing bit. Apparently I was ready to head out into this
world!)
If you’d asked me ten years ago, “What
are your mother’s day plans?” for today, I’d have assumed I’d be celebrating
this holiday with my family and own children. I do not have children, with the
exception of the many hundreds of children who have passed through my classroom
door over the course of the past five years. I often do quite a bit of
counseling with my students (from the young ones up to the high schoolers) and
I am grateful that I’ve been deemed worthy (by whatever powers that be) to give
advice and help my kids see a different point-of-view on the world. Little ones
(from teaching Elementary school classrooms) have called me “Mommy” instead of
Miss G from time to time, and many hugs with heads buried in my side and arms
wrapped around my waist included wistful, “I wish you were my mom”s. Many of my
high school kids have fussed at me for not having a baby yet, saying that I’d
be a “cool mom” and warning me that my “eggs were frying and I needed to have
kids soon.” (Yikes!)
Several of my high-schoolers have
been mothers or mothers-to-be and I’ve had a special bond with those girls,
encouraging and enabling them to get the education they deserve in order to be
the mom to their babies that their children deserve. I’ve felt humbled when
talking with teenagers (usually girls) and pointing out that their moms are
scared to lose their little girls—and that this transition point of high school
is a clear sign that they won’t have the same role to play with their daughters
as when they were younger—and hopefully saying words to these girls that will
help smooth out the oft-tangled relationships between teen girls and their moms.
So am I glad I’m not celebrating
Mother’s Day tomorrow with children who are “mine?” No, not really. I’m a
little jealous of moms and that relationship that they have as a sustainer of
life—it seems to me like a mystical, spiritual chance to be one with God…one
that I haven’t had the opportunity to take. Am I happy for the moms out there?
Of course. If not for moms out there, I’d not have had the chance to teach,
converse with, sing with, make art with, and learn from their children.
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| My mama came to my Beethoven concert in April |
In another sense, I’ve been so
fortunate, lucky, and blessed to have a wonderful mom. My mom has shown me with
her dedication to anything she sets her mind to—that life is yours for the
taking.
She never showered me with gifts, but always experiences— Girl Scouts,
church, theater, museums, concerts,
Social
Studies fairs; trips around this country and Europe; piano, voice, and oboe
lessons. She is thoroughly academic and musical and has always encouraged me
through her words and actions that I should strive for excellence. She has been
my toughest critic with singing, acting, and music…but she’s also been at every
concert and performance humanly possible. One time, in grad school, I was
singing with an acapella group and we were singing at a woman’s wedding. My
mom
crashed the wedding—in order to hear her baby (24-year-old) sing.
My mom is a teacher—a product of
the 1970’s era of Women’s Lib when she knew that she had the opportunity to go
to college, but she felt that her
only two career options were nurse or
teacher. I worked really hard in college to NOT become a teacher, but to
accidentally follow in her footsteps anyway. They’re definitely not bad
footsteps to follow. She’s been a teacher
who’s constantly reinvented herself:
she taught Elementary school, then worked while she was pregnant to obtain a
Master’s degree and Gifted certification; then after 17 years, she switched to
teaching Middle School Language Arts and Science and earned her Specialist’s
degree. After 13 years there, it was time for a change again, and she switched
to Elementary gifted again—at schools with immigrant populations unlike the
golf-course-homes one she’d left years before.
She’s made her mark, earning
Teacher of the Year for her county, helping countless kids earn Social Studies,
Writing, and art awards and taken dozens of field trips around the southeast
with kids. She started a monthly recognition luncheon for the best citizens in
each class—and it’s caught on so that other teachers help bring in deserts to brag about the
good kids. She lives her life as true to herself as she can—church-choir
singer, sci-fi fan, family caregiver, rescue-dog-mommy, pianist, baker, reader,
gardener, and Snoopy collector.
Some other moms in my life are my
grandmothers: my mom’s mom, Grandma Shirley Jane Pepperd Thomaston, and my dad’s
mom, Grandma Marilyn Faye Cerasoli Gauthier (see, French and Italian!). I was
at my Grandpa Bill’s 80th birthday celebration this weekend when his
sister-in-law (a woman I’ve not seen since I was a toddler), looked at me from
a table, sighed, and said, “I see Marilyn in your face.” It made me cry because
my mom’s always said that she sees my beautiful Grandma Marilyn’s eyebrows on
me—in addition to other features. My grandma Marilyn was stricken with a
neuromuscular disease most of my life—so I always knew her to be in her home,
surrounded by her books, beads, sewing, crocheting, music, television programs,
and Bible.
There were several summers as a
child when we spent a lot of time at their house west of Atlanta, and although
she didn’t have the strength to do much of the cooking, she perched on a stool
and gave me directions of what to do—to make Italian stuffed shells, salads,
desserts, and drinks. She had recipes, but she also cooked by smell and visual
presentation. Her dishes, “tablescapes,” and foods were beautiful to look at
and wonderful to taste. I would often
call her as I was driving some place and she would fuss for me multi-tasking,
but she would listen and sop up every story about my life that I had to tell
her. She was an incredible listener, philosopher, and activist. I remember
saying to my sister, that I can’t call Grandma Marilyn any more, but at least I
can still talk to her—I just have to wait a while for her answer. From the time
we were little, we’d give eskimo kisses and say “Bee’s Knees!” and so whenever
I hear that I think of her. I miss her
so much.
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| '08 Baccalaureate-- mom and grandma Jane love stuff like that. |
My grandma Jane was
a force to be
reckoned with. She grew up traveling across the U.S. by train because her
parents divorced (it was unheard of!)…her father was a photographer and her
mother a contortionist. She was more or less reared by an Aunt and Grandmother
on a farm in Oklahoma. She received a scholarship to Birmingham Southern
College and eventually met my Grandpa Matt there. My grandma was the mother of
5 children, a dutiful wife who cooked every night, and an avid reader. But I
think more than anything, she was a talker. When people who I’ve met through
teaching (she taught for over 30 years in the county where I currently teach)
say that I remind them of her because of how I talk and care about people—there’s
no higher compliment. She looked out for the teachers, parents, and children in
her school and she was a wonderful Grandma.
She traveled with me singing to
South Carolina, Chicago, and all over Europe. I lived with her for a time in
both high school and college and I thank the stars every day for the
opportunity to know her the way that I did—not just as a grandchild who cared
for her grandmother, but in a more one-on-one nurturing way. Grandma Jane didn’t
know a stranger and she loved to tell entertaining stories. She had one about
during World War II about rationing and that it was time for her to get her
allowance of shoes and the only mary janes available in her size were RED! The
ten year old Janie couldn’t have been more delighted with her luck to be the
only girl at her school to have red patent leather shoes. What luck, and what a
perspective on the direness of the times.
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| Luchsingers concert May 08. She was able to hear the Dec. concert from her new home. |
I also learned things about cooking
and sewing from my Grandma Jane. To this day, I’d throw away all my vegetarian
ideals for her pot roast and cornbread. She grew up with little store-bought
food, but since she was on a farm, she knew how to make something to eat out of
most anything. She didn’t bake terribly well because she was in much too much
of a hurry to read the directions carefully (all that chemistry and stuff). It
didn’t stop her from making me a birthday cake a time or two, or calling my
mother and asking HER to make the beautifully frosted confections that my mom
was excellent at making. Grandma Jane and I had
a funny song and dance at IHOP
or Cracker Barrel in which I would order whatever food she wanted, and she
would get the senior breakfast that I wanted (I always liked the portion
better)—in order to save on the bill. We’d wait til the waiter was watching,
eye each other’s food and say loudly, “Yours looks better than mine. Shall we
trade?” I wonder who was fooled.
I got my chocolate brown eyes from
my Grandma Jane (okay, my dad has brown eyes too) and I’d like to think her
fighting spirit and love of seeing places of history all over the world. She and I shared
many a marvelous moment traipsing across Europe—and she never got tired of
people asking if I was her daughter, and she proudly explaining that I was her
granddaughter. A bus driver even commented (to our amusement), “Oh yes, I knew
you were related. You have the same nice legs. Sexy.” I learned a phrase from my
friend Amber’s mom when she said, “I ran into your grandma and she was telling
me about your trip. You know she thinks you hung the moon!” I cherish the
things my grandma Jane liked to say…”How often do you get to tour the Red Light
District of Amesterdam in the morning and hear your granddaughter singing a
Mozart Aria at a cathedral in Germany in the evening?” She lived for
soundbites!
These women and others have shown
me to live my truth and to stand for what is good, right, beautiful, and
musical in the world. Maybe I have one’s eyebrows, one’s legs, one’s brown eyes…but
their spirits and good energy are in my heart and soul. Happy Mother’s Day to
those ones who I have been
so lucky to have the love of in my life.
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| Mother's Day Lunch 2012- Aunt Janet, Neil, Adrienne, Emily, Mom. We are generally an amiable bunch. |
Back in Colorado, I've been on fun-tradition-mode with my Chris and my kiddos I nanny for. We've made tons of cookies, including star-shaped cookie trees that turned into bricks upon setting. Shrub-shaped bricks, but bricks no less! We had a more grown-up theme with some of the sweets-- Chris made caramel shortbread with dark-chocolate peanut butter on top and I made Muddy Buddies with dark chocolate and almond butter instead of the usual. Peppermint- white chocolate covered pretzels, Swedish Cocoa Balls, and Peanut Blossoms rounded out our sweets. I was pleased and I think our friends and coworkers enjoyed! My 10 and 8 year-old kiddos and I went shopping in downtown Louisville shops and they gave me lots of gift-giving advice. (For example, "Soap? Nobody wants SOAP as a gift, I promise.") I loved picking out the gifts I gave to my tween and teen kiddos-- they're both artistic and I think I got some gifts that will inspire their creativity. The younger kiddo even exclaimed, "I've wanted one of these!!" about a pot-holder weaving loom. I'm pretty sure I made at least a hundred thousand potholders to people-- glad that I could pass the tradition on!
