You Said You Would Go, Now Do it Gracefully

Another 'my mother used to say' catch phrase, only this time I don't really despise it like the majority things my mother said through my childhood. This one I kind of appreciate. I have even used it on my own children, without that terror that usually presses down on me when I find myself sounding like my mother.

I remember the first time I heard her say it, she was sitting on the edge of her bed staring into the mirror, brushing her hair or putting on mascara. We were getting ready for an old lady party.The kind where they serve cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off and everybody smells like lilacs. I was 13 or 14 and I really, REALLY did not want to spend my Sunday afternoon sipping tea and eating gerchins. I was complaining profusely. (I know that now because I have a 14 year old, that's how they complain) At some point in my objection my mother put down what she was doing, looked me straight in the eye and said it "You said you would go, now do it gracefully." She had me and I hated her for it. There was no rebuttal that could knock that line off it's podium. I had said I would go. I was locked in for the afternoon.

Motherhood has taught me that my Mother didn't want to go either. However, she said she would so she was going to do it gracefully. Her survival technique was to drag me along with her. (why should she suffer alone)

While at the time I shot daggers at my mom for so skillfully putting me in my place, this really is a line that has gotten me through (and to) a great deal in my life. For someone who suffered immobilizing anxiety for most of her life, getting to things is challenging, getting through things is critical. Even now that I've over come 90% of my anxiety issues I lean on this line for those social engagements that I'm still working to overcome. But conquering mental illness is a story for another day.

For today I am grateful that "You said you would, now do it gracefully" got me through the weekend. The reverberating line got me through dog sitting (well, this line,a bottle of Prosolve and a healthy dose of Advil). 'You said you would' got me to the ice rink for a skate with my son and my husband. 'Do it gracefully' prevented broken bones. 'You said you would' is getting me dressed for the office today when I would much rather be curled up with a hot coffee, my thoughts and my keyboard. 'You said you would' got a less than great feeling Lula to work on Sunday, 'Do it gracefully' got her to the end of her shift with a smile on her face. 'You said you would' kept KJ on task catching up with her studies and studying for exams. 'You said you would' got the dog for a walk and the laundry done. 'Do it gracefully' got me through a stranger encounter this weekend and will coach me through the death claim calls I will have to make this week.

Of all of the things my mother has given to me in my life, this line may be the most valuable. I'm grateful for that.

Gratitude, Hope & Smiles are meant to be shared.
Michelle

More in the Box Than We Bargained For

KJ brought home one of those projects the other day, you know, one of THOSE projects... All About Me. The only project with the power to paralyze me worse than a bridge project is the "All About Me Project"

An All About Me project means that I will be scavenging through the photo box for a kindergarten picture from 9 years ago. My powers of memory recall and personal trivia will be measured and tested;

• "What time was I born?"
• "How much did I weigh?"
• "What was my first word?"
• "What was the name of the grandson of the lady who lived four houses down that I sprayed with the hose?"

 I should probably confess right now, that I don't know this stuff. I am not the mother who can recall the thing you were eating when you lost your first tooth or what colour ribbons you wore in your hair on the first day of school. Heck, the other day I forgot how to print the number 9 my kids are doomed

If you are one of those super Moms you probably think very little of me right now. If you have ever had to ask one of your children to confirm their birthday or grade in school you will sympathize with the pain I felt when that first question went live on Sunday evening... "How much did I weigh when I was born?"

I tried to be the good Mom..."8lbs 4oz." I blurted out. Immediately I realized I was wrong, I could tell by the look on Michael's face. His expression resembling the look you might expect if grandma willed you the false teeth. The debate was on. I tried to rationalize KJ's birth weight by ordinating it among Lula and E-man's weights but I had those wrong too, so my strategy was flawed from the start. Eventually we all headed upstairs to "the BOX"

I have a box for each of my kids, each box containing hospital bracelets, footprints, cards, locks of hair, favourite dresses, hats that sort of thing. I went into motherhood knowing that detail is not my strong suit and knowing that I better have a strong back up system.

I opened the box, and I choked up a little, looking at my girl holding up the little sleeper that she came home from the hospital in, (she has bras bigger than it now.) I reached for the hospital card that listed her details...7lbs 11oz...."Ok, I loose." I conceded. Then I watched as KJ sifted through the rest of the box, giggling and snickering. All I could think, was how much things change, and how far she has come.

I was lost in reflection when KJ asked "One shoe, why is there only one shoe?"

I laughed, I had forgotten all about it. "Because your sister has the other one." KJ looked at me like grandma had willed her the false teeth.

I looked at her and I started with ....

...."when you were born we were broke, like really broke." (and we were, a string of layoffs and ill timed plant closures, a broken car and a house held together mostly with duct tape and bubble gum. We were living on love and fumes.)

"When you needed walking shoes, we could afford to steal the pair from your sister's baby box."

Still she was holding grandma's teeth, except now she was laughing.

"That's where you come from" I said. THAT is why I get frustrated when you kids complain that you don't have everything you want... there was a time when you only had 1 shoe.

She left (rolling her eyes, I'm sure)

Then I laughed harder. E-man's box doesn't have any shoes (yes, he wore them too!)

Gratitude that while we were busy concentrating on the things that weren't 'things' we came a long way too. Gratitude that life has unique ways of reminding you what is important.

Spend some moment everyday in reflection of gratitude and happiness. Even if the time found is standing in line for coffee...use is wisely.

Michelle


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