Today is Mother's Day in America. It was a little bit strange because Mother's Day was already celebrated here in the UK two months ago. I'm not used to waking up on Mother's Day morning and not rushing downstairs for a hot pancake breakfast. My mom makes the pancakes even on Mother's Day because she doesn't like anyone else messing around in the kitchen, and I don't particularly mind. She always makes the best ones.
This is the first Mother's Day I'm spending away from my mom. Suddenly England seems so far away from California. I gave her a call this morning and it was just so nice to hear her voice. In honor of Mother's Day, I thought I'd share one of my favorite memories of my mom.
It was towards the end of my eight-grade year, so I was about 13 years old. At that time, the most exciting thing in the world to me was the thought of going on the summer trip to Spain and France, organized by the Spanish and French teachers. It was a special trip open to all Spanish and French students graduating from the eight grade before they entered high school. It was the trip that each language teacher had promoted the whole year, in hopes of exciting interested students. It was two weeks of fun and complete (well, almost) freedom in Barcelona and Paris. What could be more exciting? I had done pretty well in my Spanish class, so I knew the only thing standing in the way of my trip was getting my parents' approval.
One day, I went up to my mom and started telling her all the cool stories my Spanish teacher had told us about past class trips to Barcelona. She just nodded along and let me talk. I asked her, didn't she think Spain sounded cool? She said yes. I asked her, wouldn't it be the trip of a lifetime to go there? She said yes. I asked her, wouldn't it be a great idea if she let me go? She said no.
I didn't get it. She said, "Baby, I love you. I would give you the moon and the stars if I could, but you're not going to Spain." She wasn't angry or upset, although I was at the time. I told her in my 13-year-old-way that I would get a job eventually and pay her back for it. She said it wasn't about the money. I told her I had done well in my class. She said she knew I was responsible. I asked her what the problem was. She said I wasn't ready-- that if I waited until I was a little older, I would enjoy the trip more. I just couldn't understand it.
Now seven years later, I think I do understand. Seven years later, she was right. I eventually made my way to Barcelona last month and I'm so glad I waited. If I had gone when I was 13 years old, I'm sure I would have had fun with my class, but I wouldn't have had the same desire to revisit it compared to the desire of seeing it for the first time at the age of 20. It was an awesome and totally liberating experience that I know I could not have had as a kid just going into high school. In the end, mom was right (again).
To my mother, and to all mothers: Happy Mother's Day!
This is the first Mother's Day I'm spending away from my mom. Suddenly England seems so far away from California. I gave her a call this morning and it was just so nice to hear her voice. In honor of Mother's Day, I thought I'd share one of my favorite memories of my mom.
One day, I went up to my mom and started telling her all the cool stories my Spanish teacher had told us about past class trips to Barcelona. She just nodded along and let me talk. I asked her, didn't she think Spain sounded cool? She said yes. I asked her, wouldn't it be the trip of a lifetime to go there? She said yes. I asked her, wouldn't it be a great idea if she let me go? She said no.
I didn't get it. She said, "Baby, I love you. I would give you the moon and the stars if I could, but you're not going to Spain." She wasn't angry or upset, although I was at the time. I told her in my 13-year-old-way that I would get a job eventually and pay her back for it. She said it wasn't about the money. I told her I had done well in my class. She said she knew I was responsible. I asked her what the problem was. She said I wasn't ready-- that if I waited until I was a little older, I would enjoy the trip more. I just couldn't understand it.
Now seven years later, I think I do understand. Seven years later, she was right. I eventually made my way to Barcelona last month and I'm so glad I waited. If I had gone when I was 13 years old, I'm sure I would have had fun with my class, but I wouldn't have had the same desire to revisit it compared to the desire of seeing it for the first time at the age of 20. It was an awesome and totally liberating experience that I know I could not have had as a kid just going into high school. In the end, mom was right (again).
To my mother, and to all mothers: Happy Mother's Day!
Me, mom, and my sister (All wearing the same thing. For the record, I bought it first.)