Mothering Sunday

The older I get, the more convinced I am of my mother's brilliance. When I was young, it was simply assumed that a) she knew what she was doing; and b) she could make bad things better. As an adult, I have come to realize that, like most of us, she was probably doing the best she could with what she had. Thankfully, she was blessed enough creativity to see the day-to-day possibilities.

I was struck with this thought while washing rice, of all things. Now anyone who has tried to wash brown rice knows that there are always a few pesky kernels that refuse to sink to the bottom of the bowl. Additionally, any dirt trapped beneath the ones that did sink just sit there while you pour the water off. After awhile, I began to wonder, "What's the point of washing it, then? What a pain in the..."

Then came this past winter break. I went home to discover my mother placing the uncooked rice in a strainer and setting that in a bowl of water. When she lifted the cheap piece of plastic, all the unwanted filth stayed in said bowl while the rice remained clean. A few rinses later, (relatively) clean rice was dumped in the cooker. Hurray!

Another instance is the storm sheeting (plastic sheets) covering the kitchen table. On some level, I admit, it could be a bit tacky, and I would never use it in the dining room, but on a kitchen table that sees plenty of daily use? It makes complete sense, especially when some of your children *raises hand* went through a nasty phase of accidental cup spillage at least once every twenty-four hours. It's like a bib for the table!

Then there were the makeshift butterfly wings from bath towels for Halloween, and the plastic bag ponchos that seemed completely normal at a time when Reaganomics still seemed like a good idea. In retrospect, it should have been an indication of our financial state at the time, but all I knew was that I got to "dress up" to go out for candy, and I had something to keep me dry when it rained. Perhaps shielding a child from harsh reality was the greater achievement here, especially in suburban Long Island where income and status go hand-in-hand.

I often joke that "My mother doesn't push her birds out of the nest; she kicks them out." In all likelihood, this is less true than it sounds, but she knew that my siblings and I share an independent streak, and instead of suppressing it, she forced us to use it productively. Visits to the city (New York--is there any other?) had to planned out on our own. The same went for college visits, college applications, violin repairs, apartment-hunting, and learning how to keep house. Essentially, we were given the tools and left to our own devices, and for the three of us, that worked. The result? Adults who are able to confront new situations with the confidence that we will "figure it out"...eventually. In a naturally Type A super-planner, it seems a little contradictory, but even the most anal-retentive of us must admit that nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

With the current thirst for online recognition and career achievement pervading through our society, these less recognizable victories have a tendency to get pooh poohed. Yet they require the same degree of creativity and practicality. We strive for efficiency and financial prudence in the workplace, so why not in the home? Why are these achievements any less noteworthy? Is it because the world at large doesn't see them, or because they won't help you land a job?

I've deviated from the main point per usual, and now that I'm back in the US, "Mothering Sunday" no longer applies, but I'll finish off by stating that however invisible to the resume-driven eye, good parenting can change a child's world, and brilliant parenting can empower them to make their own changes.