Today, Beatrix and I were riding around town, accomplishing a few errands. In a moment of clarity, I remembered I had my flash drive with me on hand. I plugged it into our USB port. Ani came on. Beatrix was in the back seat. It was my first time listening to Ani as a mother. What a surreal moment... I came to Ani in my early years of college. Of course, I was in many ways the same person as now, yet different - in so many hard to describe ways. Oh, how I loved me some Ani. I admired her strength and bluntness. I still do. I still love singing, reciting along with her lyrics.Back in college, I didn't fit in with any one type of crowd. I was no hippie, freak, or punk. I was too busy working two jobs, taking 18 hour semesters, and making good grades. I rebelled by not rebelling, I think. Unless you took the time to get to know me. Then you knew what big dreams and ambitions I had. Then you knew my disdain for bullshit, small talk, niceties, and whatnot. That part of me is still the same. I have fulfilled a good many dreams and ambitions with many more to go.
As I was listening to Ani in the car - with Beatrix in the back seat, I realized that among the many virtues of mindful living I hope she picks up from us, there will be other things which I one day hope to expose her too. Kick-ass women folk singers for one. I wander what she'll think of me as a young girl, a teen, a young adult. How might her perceptions of her mother grow and alter as she she grows. Surely at one point of her life, I'll be the lame character. But I hope that at one point - or at several points - in her life, I'll be someone she admires. Someone she recognizes as unassumingly strong. The way I think of my mother.
My mother is like Ani. She really does rock. She has such a balanced spirit about her. As a child rearing mother, she was just firm enough and just loving enough and just forgiving enough. I never remember her holding grudges. Don't get me wrong, as a single mother raising six children, there were plenty of opportunities for some loud talking going on. But we deserved it. The key was that she'd get upset and she'd get over it. She'd listen and talk to us as reasonable, thinking people. She still does. As a grandmother, she gives just the right amount of unsolicited advice. She loves, adores, Beatrix in a warm, grandmotherly kind of way. I love the way she calls me daily now to check in on Beatrix. And to tell us that she wishes she could hold her, to pass a kiss on to her, to reminisce on her own special moments as a young mother. To share a bit of the intimacies... I always wonder how she managed to raise six children and not go nuts. Imagine the multi-tasking...the neediness... the commitment. Nothing is more humbling to me. But really, I think she just loved motherhood. It was all that she knew. She loved her babies and she loved watching her babies grow up into children and adults. After all, we were not just her children - not a job to complete, we were her little friends. We still are. She's such a special person. I can not think of anyone whom I admire more. Her gift to this world is her mothering. I love her.
