My dad was the ultimate soccer mom. I know that seems like an oxymoron, but in our case, it wasn’t. Rain or shine, he was at each and every game.
My dad and I began every day together with a cup of coffee. I hated the flavor, but this time with him meant more to me than just coffee. It was largely the only time I spent with him during the week — so yes, my caffeine addiction really is his fault.
My father balanced three jobs and paid every penny he had into my private school.
But he wasn’t entirely without help. My sister taught me how to cook some really good mac and cheese and how not to wear clashing patterns. My grandmother taught me how to tie my shoes and how to pull weeds from the garden we planted together during the summers.
My other grandma opened up her home to me each summer. Those hot and humid summers in Upstate New York were my getaway and my break from stress and worries.
This grandma also taught me a lot about what kind of person I want to be. She was and still is the ultimate example of grace, intelligence and boldness all co-existing.
I say this now, a few days before University of Idaho’s Moms’ Weekend because our relationship has been on my mind. With all of the flyers and excitement that comes with Moms’ Weekend here on campus, I have been forced to think about it.
I love this excitement and joy, and I’m truly excited to see everyone’s pictures with their moms on social media.
At the same time, this weekend comes with a bit of sadness. It’s easy to feel like an outsider to that joy. My mother and I aren’t entirely close like many mothers are with their children.
In the past weeks, I’ve repeatedly been asked by friends and acquaintances if my mom will be joining me this weekend. I’m not offended by this in the slightest – I ask my friends the same question. But, the reaction to my response has been the strangest part of it all.
I’ve responded with a “no” every time, and the reactions I’ve received have surprised me. I’ve had multiple people, including close friends, insist on asking about ten follow up questions to my short and simple answer. I don’t blame anyone for this — it is only natural to be curious about our friends’ home lives and to ask questions about things that seem out of the norm. But, it shouldn’t be a problem for others to hear that my relationship with my mother is less than normal.
I ask one thing of fellow students during mom’s weekend: be conscious of what you say to your friends who won’t have moms joining them for the festivities this weekend.
The same goes for Dads’ Weekend in the Fall.
I receive a lot of sympathy from family and friends regarding my relationship with my mother, but honestly, I shouldn’t. I’ve struggled a lot in the last 18 years, but I’ve also been given so much. I have been taught and loved so much by others who stepped into the place my mother would have never been able to fill. And for that, I try not to complain or hold resentment, but rather be grateful.Be sensitive to the fact that not everyone’s mother is their best friend, or inspiration or partner-in-crime. Some people have a father, or a sister or a grandmother to fill that role. Mothers come in all shapes and sizes.
Elizabeth Marshall can be reached at [email protected] or on Twitter @EJMarshall_