Mom

The blogs I read are mainly written by very loving mothers. While I am not a mother, though I love my dog dearly (I always wonder if people are offended when they ask if I have children and I bring up my dog. I don't mean to offend, he is just the closest thing I know to having a child), the stories I read usually take me back to my own childhood. I always wonder if the mothers of the blogs ever see themselves in their own stories, or if they're in such a busy world of mothering that they don't see it, yet.

My mom told me that it only recently hit her that I view her and have memories of her the way she views her own mother. Of course, they have completely different parenting skills. My mom took what she liked about her mom's parenting and kept it, then took what she didn't like and put in her own way of parenting that she thought would be better. But, for whatever reason, it didn't occur to her that I would look back on my life and have "Mom Stories" that she wouldn't relate to or remember. Or that my brothers and I would have "Mom Stories," typically funny ones, that we share and are independent from her.

I'm used to being the youngest child, both in my family and in my mom's extended family, and having everyone tell me stories of me being knee-high to a grasshopper. But my mom isn't used to hearing stories of being The Mom. She just was The Mom. I hope I'm getting the point across. It was just a new concept to her to realize that, although she knows almost every little detail about me, she can't actually go in my head and see the memories that I have of being her little girl.

It would take a novel to describe what being my mom's daughter is like. I have years of blogging to do that, I guess. In one word, it was a blessing. I wish all children could feel that. I wish children who are blessed with great mothers but go through their teen years turning their backs on their moms would get over themselves and appreciate what they have.

My mom and I have faced dark struggles together, possibly bringing us closer than your average mother/daughter team. But that's not what I want to focus on in this blog. I want to write a story about the time we went to Starr's Cave, this huge plot of land with trails, caves... perfect for an outdoor lover... something I've never known my mom to be.

We had just moved to Burlington and I'm going to assume that my mom wanted to do something with my brother and me to help us see what the town had to offer. Get us out and have some fun. So, a'hiking we went down the trails of Starr's Cave. Being an optimistic 9-year-old, I recall enjoying it as we got started. I can't say much for my brother, but what I know of him from that time, I can't say I picture him whistling and skipping along side me. I do recall having a snake scare, but my mom kept the energy up.

I remember we finally spotted a cave. I was far too scared to step into the dark hole. Who knew what that could lead to? Bears? Witches? Well, my brother was curious, so he stepped in and about 2 seconds later, the usually calm teen came running out screaming like a baby girl as bats flew out after him. Turns out that's what's found in caves. That freaked the doodle out of him and I wasn't really about that, so we were done with caves.

We kept tromping around and after a while, I noticed that we had passed the same cornfield three times. Four times. Five times. I knew it was the same because I saw a piece of farming equipment sitting in the middle of it. At this point, my mom and I had to join my brother in his lack of enthusiasm. The sun was starting to go, no one was coming our way, so we couldn't follow anyone back to the parking lot, if we even had a map, it had obviously failed us... visions of snakes and bats nibbling on our fatigued bodies were dancing through my head.

I have no clue how, but we did find a path that led us back to our car. Thank goodness. All my mom wanted to do was show us a fun side of Burlington. The move had been hard on the whole family, that includes her, and she thought getting the two of us out for a day of hiking would be great. For some reason, that backfired and she told me to never to go on trails ever again.

I followed her new rule until I was 18 when my friends and I, unfortunately, returned to Starr's Cave for a cross country ski trip and we got lost as the sun was setting. That's another story for another day.