Saturday, May 12, 2007

Pictures of our favorite mothers, grandmothers, stepmothers, stepgrand mothers, fairy god mothers, step great grandmothers...















































Sweetest Sami









In my family, we have a healthy respect for Freud. When we have attempted to discredit him too thoroughly, funny things have happened.

But that is a story for another time.

It is clear, however, that growing up tightly connected to not one but two fabulous mothers of my own (see previous posts for details :-), it would take a pretty unusual person to suit my ideas of who my own children's mother should be.

My expectations have been completely overmatched.

When asked about this person with whom I was completely infatuated way back when we first met, my best answer was "Body by Victoria's Secret, Mind by Ani DiFranco". Of course, back then I was describing a lover, not a co-parent.

However, when you add in other traits, like mind-reading, mental spreadsheets and databases, silliness suited to all occasions, boundless energy, thirst for knowledge of culture, generous cravings for affection, appreciation for baby/outdoor gear, love of exotic foods...

The line between dream lover and perfect co-parent can get pretty blurry, in a rather nice way.

I have always appreciated that we met in a way that makes a good story. It seems a little shallow, at least to myself, but I can't help it. I think it's because I've spent so much of my time creating and watching theater and films. I like a good story, particularly when it has a happy ending. I never imagined that my own personal "movie" would include such a fantastic co-star.

Sam is going to think this whole posting is horribly sappy, and she'll probably try to make me delete it. Who am I writing it for?

Ten years married, and I should be able to throttle back on the shmaltz without losing the affection, since I know that's what she likes...

So, how to come at this feeling from a new angle?

Our vows said "partner, lover, and friend". Yes, all three, doing beautifully. What I couldn't imagine was how it would feel to watch her nurture our children.

First we mix all our genes in a pot without any control over whether they would get my features and her head (cute babies) or her features and my head (panda bears). Actually, it's not that clear cut, and what we really got was cute babies who look like themselves, rather than either of us or a panda bear.

Once the genes are all mixed, I'm relegated to Court Jester, CheerLeader, and Subject Matter Expert (that's the latest addition). I have simply watched in awe as Sam tolerated pregancy (grumble grumble ALIEN grumble grumble grumble RIDE MY DAMN BIKE, grumble grumble SMALLER BREASTS...) , reveled in birth (without stitches or meds, I'm telling you it's a script not many would believe) and fell in love with both boys in turn. Really fell in love. Giddy, sappy, lipsmacking, silly-nickname mush-brained heaven. It is a wonder to behold. I'm the luckiest court jester on earth, and I know it.

I mean, here I am in a house with not one, not two, but THREE people I love more than I ever thought possible, and she deserves the lion's share of the credit for how happy that makes me.

Did I mention that she learned to tolerate Bluegrass and even watches Star Trek Voyager with me?

Can I even describe how great it is to watch her charge off on her bike with our Bandit looking like a marionette on his tag along? She never expected to be such a fantastic mother, I might point out. She wasn't even sure she was going to be a mother, at all. "Globtrotting Anthropologist", her business card was going to say. "Mother, specializing in picking children's boogers, breastfeeding, natural childbirth, and tight coordination of clothing swaps for children of all ages and seasons" was not high on her list.

Globetrotting anthropologist would have been easier. I think she's happy with her choice, though.

I know I'm very glad of it. I even love how much fun she has managing our que on Netflix?

Ah, I should quit blathering. Those pictures at the top of the post say it all much better than I ever will be able to.

Somewhere in my youth, or childhood, I must have done something *really* good...