The Cinnamon Girl is amazing at a great many things. She is a terrific chef, an incredibly talented teacher, a wonderful partner, my best friend and a really remarkable mother.
She is so sad to see our kids growing up (HJ jr is 17 going on 45, Stretch graduates high school next week and Sous Chef is about to take over the world… er, I mean, the kitchen) but knows exactly how much independence to offer them.
Sous and Cinnamon
She has a way of allowing the kids to open up to her, to tell her whatever is on their minds. I’ve spent a lot of time observing other parents’ behaviors in my years as a teacher and I’ve not seen many other parents (including me!) with this ability.
The kids know they love her. They know she’s fiercely protective of them, so much so that, when they have an issue or they are in any kind of distress, the go to her first.
She gives our children wise and loving advice.
She makes them laugh.
The kids don’t always know what to make of their Cinnamon Mom, but I do. I know that, in all ways and, very much as a mother, The Cinnamon Girl is truly special.
Oh, and she loves Lulu, too…
When I was growing up, in ways both simple and profound, my mother, The Mater, taught me what loyalty meant. She illustrated to me the definition of “unconditional” before I could spell the word. She showed me love.
Mom did her best to be interested in comic books and superheroes and, though they were never particularly fascinating to her, she would listen to me talk about them for hours. Science Fiction and Star Wars were a bit closer to her heart and she and I spent a lot of time watching those kinds of movies, even though my father professed to hate them. She packed the lunches (often, when I was heading on a field trip, wrapping a cool pop in aluminum foil to maintain the temperature – a scientist, The Mater is not, a caretaker, she most certainly is). She washed the clothes. She held my hand when I would come home crying after a break up. She taught me to value education.
Her lessons haven’t stopped now that I am an adult. She continues to love, to teach, to parent. I don’t know where she got the manual, but she must have read whatever fine print was listed in it where it says parenting doesn’t stop when the kids turn 18 or 21 or 44. It never stops.
I am who I am and I am how I am because of my mom.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. And thank you. For everything.