Finding the Hero Within.
by Vicki Larson
When I’m feeling morbid, as I have been lately given my numerous visits to see my ailing elderly father, I sometimes imagine how my obituary will read: “Longtime journalist and mother of two …”
I’m grateful the poor sap writing my obit will likely list the journalist part first. But since I haven’t kicked the bucket yet, I’m often asked what my biggest accomplishment has been so far. This is a no-brainer — my two wonderful kids.
It’s true; no matter what fame and fortune I’ve received in my professional life (granted, it’s been pretty miniscule on both ends, but still), I’m proudest of the fine young men my two boys have become.
Of course, they’ve had a fantastic mom to guide them along.
We all know what mothers are about, right? A mom “remembers to serve fruit at breakfast, is always cheerful and never yells, manages not to project her own neuroses and inadequacies onto her children, is an active and beloved community volunteer. She remembers to make playdates, her children’s clothes fit, she does art projects with them and enjoys all their games,” or so writes Ayelet Waldman in her latest book “Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities and Occasional Moments of Grace.”
Oh, OK, those are the “good” mommies. But even the good-enough mommies and “bad” mommies tend to put their kids first, before their own desires and goals.
In other words, we’re selfless. We sacrifice.