"What questions?" I asked.
"The ones in your blog."
"You...read my blog?"
"So you've...read...my mother's day blog."
"So you already know what I'm making you for Mother's Day."
"Yep. Honestly Tracy, you told the whole world you were conceived in a Winnebago?"
"Um. I don't think the WHOLE WORLD is an accurate headcount of who's reading my blog. So let's just say I told approximately 23 people."
Anyways, my mom copied and pasted my questions into a Word document, then emailed me the answers. And when I asked if I could post some of her answers on this blog, she said yes. Enjoy, and Happy Mother's Day. :)
To Tracy on Mother’s Day, 2009
Was I planned?
Oh, Lord! I can’t believe I told you that story. It’s time to rewrite history: I had a magical encounter with a most perfect man (no, not your biofather). We were totally in synch, spent the day eating chocolate covered strawberries, while wandering around a white sand beach with the breeze gently flowing and the waves gently lapping at our feet, talking about everything under the sun. We never actually touched each other because our communion was so perfect that it wasn’t necessary. And 9 months later you were born.
Did you feel ready for me?
Yes. I was ready for a little girl in my life. You completed our family. Boys are great, but every mother needs a daughter – like you.
How was the birth? Honestly. You can tell me. Did it suck? It sucked, didn't it. You can tell me.
It wasn’t bad at all. You were born at home in your own bedroom while friends and family partied around me. You started speaking as soon as you made your appearance (“Ma! Ma!”). The nurse said most babies don’t know how to make the “m” sound and just go waaaah or aaaaa, so we knew right away that you were a superior being.
How was I as a baby? Was I a little punk that cried incessantly?
You hardly ever cried. You entertained yourself by lying on your back and doing calisthenics, throwing your legs straight up and then crashing them back down onto the crib mattress. You did this so regularly that 4-year-old Jeff could direct you: “Put em up, put em down.” You also read books while I changed your diaper and we engaged in word games: Me: “You’re a superbaby.” You: “You supermommy.” (A couple grammar mistakes there, but you were only 18 months old.) My friends were very impressed with your word skills. I took them for granted.
What do you remember most about me growing up?
That you were happy, fun, so smart, and I loved every moment with you. You were the little girl in the Abba song, going off to school with your backpack (decorated with a “Mean people suck” sticker) waving absent-mindedly at me as you left because you were eager to tackle the day.
What was the biggest challenge you faced in raising me?
I can’t think of any. Wait, maybe…um, I’m still thinking. I’ll let you know.
When was the time you felt I let you down the most? What about the time I made you the most proud?
I can’t ever remember you letting me down (unless it was the time when you told me you “totally hated me” because I made you wear your Brownie dress to a Brownie event, not knowing that no one ever wears a Brownie dress for any reason.)* There are so many moments when you’ve made me proud that I don’t know where to begin. One that comes to mind is when you played Polonius in “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead” at Chapman. More recently it was your performance at the improvisation theatre, which was hilarious. And making Jody into such a likable character. But it isn’t just your acting that makes me proud. I’m so proud of the wonderful person you are.
How was I as a teenager? What did you want to say to me as I was going through those years?
I wanted to say, don’t grow up too fast, don’t leave because I can’t imagine life without you. But I didn’t want to hold you back, so I hope I never said that to you. (If I did, I’m sorry. Mothers have to learn to let go.)
Now that I'm an adult, what choices that I've made do you support the most? How about the least?
You have relentlessly pursued your dreams of acting, and I’m so proud that you’ve stuck with it, even through discouraging times. But I’m also glad that you haven’t made acting the center of your being. You have filled your life with other activities that bring you much joy.
What would you like me to do for you to make our relationship even stronger?
Come home more often so we can spend the day at Laguna Beach together on Fridays. Keep calling me to check up on me, so I don’t go astray. Never give in to sadness; don’t ever lose your joy. When you’re happy, I’m happier.
Oh, and yes. Of course I remember reading you "Goodnight Moon."
*that Brownie dress was hideous. You gotta draw the line somewhere.