Momma(s)

50 years ago, my mom lost her mom.

My grandmother was my age when she died. She left 6 kids behind – 13 to 1, my mom was 12.

My mom was sent to a boarding school with her two other sisters. The boys stayed home and my grandpa, an entrepreneur, hired a nanny. Three years later, he married the nanny – my Mimi.

I love my Mimi and my mom loves her stepmom too. She’s a sweet lady who has had her shares of trials. She’s got a tender heart and she gives the sweetest hugs and is one of the least judgmental people I know. There are lots and lots of kind and tender things about her. She loves the Lord, she is funny, she is comfortable with who she is, and she loved my grandpa with her whole self. I love her to no end. She’s the only grandma I know (my dad’s mom passed away when he was 12 too) and I wouldn’t change a thing. In the end though, she knows and my mom knows, she’s the “stepmom” and it’s just not the same.

My mom and I talked about this last week. About her fear of offending my Mimi because my momma misses her momma. She always has and always will. 

She was cautious, almost unsure of her words when talking about her feelings. I tried my best to put her mind and heart at ease. 

Mom - I get it. Mimi is not your momma. 

She's your stepmom. 

She loves you like crazy. She would fight big bad ugly mean guys for you. She prays for you. She loves you for who you are. She is one of your biggest fans. She has seen you at your worst and at your best. Her heart break when yours breaks. She's an encourager, a listener, a defender, a friend, a guide, a piece of your heart...

... But she isn't your mom. 

I know this because I am a stepmom. It's one of the most challenging and lovely jobs I have ever had the pleasure of doing. But it's clear what I am and what I am not. 

And Mimi knows that too. 

And from the perspective of this stepmom...

She knows where your heart belongs, right where it should. 

With your momma. 

Memories

Flipping through all four albums of your first year of life I comment on when you got your first tooth... How old you were when you took your first step... Your favorite food... How you didn't like to be very far from me, ever. 

You comment about how cool it is that I remember everything. I smile. 

I don't, you know... Remember everything. 

I don't remember the last time I rocked you to sleep. 

I don't remember the last time I gave you a bottle. 

I don't remember the last day you had a pacifier... Or the last day you cried when I left the room... Or when I stopped lathering you up with lotion after a bath. 

I don't remember those lasts and I wish I could. 

You commented how you wished we could go back to those times... There are times... Lots of them, that I too wish the same. 

You wonder if you will take your child to tumbling like we did with you... Or take your child to a parent and tot swimming class... Or if you'll rock your baby to sleep every single night for the first year (and then some)!

You will. 

I know this because when I ask if you want to go through those four albums with me, you don't hesitate. 

You still love snuggling with me. You cherish the time alone we seldom get. You whisper that you still want to be with me all the time. 

There isn't a doubt in my mind that you will do all those things we did and do with you, because your heart is ready wired that way. 

Thank you, my Peanut, for making me a mom. It has and continues to be such an honor.