Mom

The Greatest Gift

Posted on by Lauren

“You need to tell her. You need to get into your car right now, go over there and tell her.” my husband encouraged. 

It was the eve of my birthday. We were on our front porch and I had just read aloud a letter I’d found while cleaning out my father’s condo. Apparently, he had kept a file for each of his children. In mine I found every report card, parent/teacher conference record and a collection of letters. 

What a treasure trove of memories this was for me to dive deeply into. 

But the one dated December 11, 1987 left me breathless.

If you’ve followed my blog, then you know the story of my beginning. I am the illegitimate love- child of a long-term affair. My parents worked together but no one suspected, not even after I was born. My older sisters, who also worked with my parents, knew me as “Pam’s daughter” but did not learn I was their half-sister until I was three. 

My mother was a powerful business woman. She was charismatic, magnetic, and inspiring. She meant much to many across the entire country but it was me, who wanted her attention the most. 

I spent so many years of my life resentful and angry for the time she’d spent building her career in place of a closer relationship with me. Now that I have a daughter very similar to me, when I was a child, I understand how challenging it must have been to forge that relationship. I didn’t make it easy. 

I finished this letter and instantaneously, my anger evaporated leaving nothing but remorse in its wake. 

I desperately wanted to call her and tell her how sorry I was for failing to recognize the love she had held for me my entire life. I was so busy focusing on her shortcomings that, as a result, I completely missed her devotion and steadfast love. 

My mother advocated for me. She encouraged my father to maintain a relationship with me not just in this letter but in other letters I found in the file: inviting him to conferences, recording my thoughts to him pen-to-paper when I could not yet write. 

How could I ever thank her enough for that gift? The gift of the presence of my father? 

What if I had found this after her death and had never apologized? 

What if my father hadn’t kept these letters for me to one day find?

But he did and she’s still here and my husband willed me to go to her. 

I couldn’t get a hold of her until the next day but when she answered, I started by telling her how much I loved her followed immediately by how sorry I was for remaining angry with her for so long. I thanked her for loving me anyway, in spite of my anger. For never giving up on me. Not then and not now. 

It was my birthday. 

And it was the greatest gift I’ve ever received. 

Love, forgiveness, and gratitude. 

My God

Posted on by Lauren

There are no sick days for mothers. 

A day of rest guarantees a day’s worth of extra work for the future. 

Never was this any clearer than when Elizabeth was six months old. 

My body had given up. 

I had spent the summer with all four girls at home while Emmett was at work. 

They were ages 6, 4, 2 and newborn. 

Elizabeth was “failure-to-thrive”. Not gaining weight, vomiting and crying constantly with eczema covering her body and we couldn’t figure out why. 

I was down twenty pounds, eliminating foods in a desperate attempt to continue breast feeding my last baby, only to find out later that the avocado I was surviving on was one of her FPIES (Food Protein-Induced Entercolitis) triggers. 

My back completely gave out and I was incapacitated in a chair watching friends and family trying to substitute for me: Laundry, meals, diapers, playtime, housework. 

It was laughable to think I had attempted to manage all of that on my own. 

I finally agreed to hire the help my husband had been encouraging me to get for months. 

I felt foolish staying at home and hiring someone to help complete my unpaid job but once she arrived, I was free to be a more present mother and enjoy my children rather than just survive them. 

Six years have passed and the nanny days are long over but mothering isn’t and I’m realizing, never will be. 

What happens when mom gets sick? 

It’s a lonely feeling. 

As a mom, I’m always anticipating my family’s needs but when sick, I’m still having to direct the show from bed. Appointment reminders, meal tips, boo-boo kisses and bedtime tuck-ins. 

Things only a mom knows of her own kids. 

I suppose that is what led me to pray to my heavenly father tonight. 

To ask him to take care of me when I’m feeling overwhelmed and neglected. 

No, there are no sick days for mothers. 

But it’s nice to know there’s someone always ready to embrace me. 

My God. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Aurora Mae Turns 12

Posted on by Lauren

12.

Here you are, baby girl. 

On the precipice of teenage-hood and totally not looking forward to it. 

I get it. 

You were 11 days overdue and never wanting to leave has been your MO. 

I have a recording of you crying about going to college when you were just 6 so it’s nothing new. 

You are a creature of comfort. 

Your bed, your hair, your charisma, the softest. 

In addition to a slew of Taylor Swift themed gifts, I also presented you with a copy of articles I’ve written in your honor over the last eight years. 

You wept in my arms over the article I wrote about my own mom, What I Want You to Know

Because you felt the same about me. 

And it dawned on me. 

Mothers and Daughters are forever. 

You may be 12, 

But we are forever. 

Camille Vaughan Photography – 2020 -all four girls tried on my wedding dress.

Love is Love

Posted on by Lauren

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Moms

Posted on by Lauren

“You’re such a good mom.”

They say to me with awe and pity.  

And I wonder, 

If you were me, would you do anything differently?

I’d like to think not. 

My child, with food allergies, gets invited to a birthday party.

Of course I bring her own cupcake- dairy, egg, peanut and wheat-free. 

This is our normal.

And yes, it’s hard. 

But if it were you . . . 

You’d do it, too. 

We’re Moms. 

It’s what we do.   

Camille Vaughan Photography

What Would You Do With That?

Posted on by Lauren

What if somebody believed in you?

I mean it. 

You know that pipe dream you once had . . . .

What if someone looked you in the eye and said, 

“Yes!”

What would you do with that?

Camille Vaughan Photography

Let’s Go!

Posted on by Lauren

One year ago, in the face of a dooming pandemic, I made the difficult decision to homeschool.

I worried.

Oh, I worried. 

I worried about FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out).  I worried about them becoming hermits, afraid of unfamiliar shadows.  I worried about them being taught by their mom, because as a former teacher myself, I know the power of a teacher’s ability to reach students in a different way than other teachers, parents or friends and I wanted that for them.

In all honesty, I still want to be that for other students.

I worried about them being left behind, especially as they witnessed their friends still attend our beloved, local school.  

Ultimately, I went with my gut and we had an incredible year. 

Spring arrived and with it, the hope of the pandemic’s near-end. 

I started to prepare the girls for their return to school in the Fall, casually mentioning how cool it would be to wave to their friends in the hallway on their way to P.E., Music or Art class.  Did they know the Fall Festival was already booked for this year?  Were they looking forward to the Fun Run?

But upon Summer’s dawn, doubt settled in. 

A vaccine, that I had traveled to another state to get just so I could get it as soon as possible, was available and yet, less than half the country had opted to receive it.  The country was split- my body, my choice/ our country, our responsibility.  

Now, variants are on the rise and social distancing measures, including masks are still required at school.  

Holding a Masters in Elementary Education, I am in a unique situation.  

My husband has worked from home since the pandemic began and I am able to stay home to teach with hired help to occupy the girls not currently in lesson.  

Moreover, apparently I made homeschooling too fun.  All three big girls have begged to continue; and while part of me felt that this was fear-based on having been away for a year, I couldn’t bring myself to convince them that their school could provide a better learning environment than what we had going on right in the Carawan Classroom.  

My *entire* experience as a parent has been blessed with the wisdom of my elders: Don’t blink. Cherish these days.  It goes by SO fast.  

Combine the pandemic, the pressure from my children, the wisdom of my elders and my innate joy in continuing to teach my daughters, and here we are.

That time we homeschooled (X2). 

2021-2022.  

Let’s Go! 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Back

Posted on by Lauren

Her name was Linda Houghten but I called her “Linda Hoe” because I hated her with a passion.

My mom was inherently a saver. As a child, we lived on bare minimums so that my mom could put enough away for a better future. She was the CEO of a software company- a black sheep in a male-dominated industry. She was inspirational. A badass. When business was struggling, she and my step-dad went without paychecks to keep the company afloat but her savings stayed put.

Her scrimping paid off- the business became extremely successful and so was she- a sought-after keynote speaker across the country. So, when she finally had saved enough to redecorate our 80K house, she hired the best.

Enter Linda Houghten.

The woman who wanted to change everything.

Generally, I’m not a vindictive or hateful person. I think carrying hate is more exhausting for the bearer than the target. But if I were to see Linda in person right now, I can’t say I’d give her a hug.

And it’s all because she made our house more beautiful.

My mom’s bedroom looked like a hotel room, so did our living room.

Patterns, slip-covers, window-treatments- the whole works.

I hated it all because it was change.

I’m the kid that cried when our area code changed from 804 to 757. I’m the kid that used to tape plastic containers over the ant hills when it rained because I couldn’t bear to witness their hard word ruined in a flash.

Consistency felt safe. Change felt terrifying.

So when it came to my piano bench? I stood my ground.

She wanted to cover it with a floral material.

Hell-to-the-no.

My mom could see the hair rising on my back and knew when to fold.

No, the piano that my father had gifted me would not be touched.

And I’mmatellyallwhat-

Victory was mine.

I’d lost the rest of the house, but I’d won what deeply mattered to me:

My mom had my back.

Momma

Posted on by Lauren

She said, 

“Lauren, you have to protect yourself from you.”

And Lawd, I didn’t want to know what she meant, but of course I knew. 

She’s my mother, after all. 

Why is she almost, always right?

But she was and she is.

I just didn’t want to know it. 

But now I do. 

What powerful words. 

“Protect yourself from you.”

Amen Momma.