{"id":14184,"date":"2015-04-22T16:32:01","date_gmt":"2015-04-22T20:32:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.katrinakenison.com\/?p=14184"},"modified":"2015-04-22T16:32:01","modified_gmt":"2015-04-22T20:32:01","slug":"mother-daughter-a-special-mothers-day-offer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/mother-daughter-a-special-mothers-day-offer\/","title":{"rendered":"mother, daughter& a special mother’s day offer"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"IMG_6492M<\/span>y mom and I just spent ten days together at my parents\u2019 house in Florida. We didn\u2019t go anyplace and we didn\u2019t do much. What I most loved about our time was that it was so quiet, so spacious, and so much our own. Introverts by nature, my mother and I have this in common \u2013 we are connoiseurs of companionable silence. We like to relax into our own rhythms, side by side but with plenty of breathing room between us.<\/p>\n

She brought me coffee in the mornings. I made us healthy salads for dinner, except for the night we ordered a pizza to share in bed while watching TV. Most afternoons she took a nap and I swam naked in the pool. We read a lot. And in the\u00a0evenings we got into our pajamas before the sun went down and then stayed up till after midnight, catching up on the last three seasons of Mad Men.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t blow dry my hair or put on lipstick for a week. There is something to be said for letting things slide. It wasn\u2019t at all exciting, but it was what we each needed — time to hang out, time to read and write and think and be. There was no one to cook for or take care of, no one to worry about or sleep with. A perfect mother-daughter vacation.<\/p>\n

At seventy-eight, my mom is moving more slowly, more cautiously than she used to. She\u2019s not a great fan of the cane she needs for walking distances but it\u2019s better than the alternative, better than risking a fall. She has dizzy spells and she can\u2019t always trust her balance. She tires more easily. So, she paces herself. And when we run out of avocados or half and half, she lets me drive to the grocery store rather than insisting on going herself.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m moving a bit more slowly these days, too. It\u2019s been nearly six months since my orthopedist pointed to a narrow, shadowy place on the x-ray of my hip and showed me why it hurts so much to walk up the stairs: bone on bone. I guess I\u2019ve just needed this time to get used to the idea of \u00a0a surgeon replacing my own worn-out hip joint with some new parts. It wasn\u2019t so long ago that I was out running. Just last spring, I still thought I\u2019d simply pulled a muscle and would be back to doing pigeon pose any day now. In September I walked 26 miles in one day without pain and believed I was finally \u201cover it.\u201d But really, all I\u2019d done was take enough ibuprofen to quiet the inflammation for a few hours.<\/p>\n

By now, I\u2019ve grown accustomed to taking smaller steps, to the popping sound when I shift in my chair, to the nagging ache in my groin as I lie in bed at night. But I can\u2019t say I\u2019m used to it. This is not the \u201cme\u201d I believe myself to be \u2013 and so I keep being surprised to find myself hurting, hesitating to bend over to pick my socks up off the floor, easing myself into the driver\u2019s seat of the car in slow motion.<\/p>\n

\u201cI never thought I\u2019d feel this way at fifty-six!\u201d I said to my mom, a bit of petulance creeping into my voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell I never thought I\u2019d feel this way ever<\/em>,\u201d she replied, without the slightest trace of self-pity. \u201cBut I can\u2019t complain. Life is so good. The only thing I can\u2019t get used to is the idea that there\u2019s not going to be much more of it. I can hardly believe Dad and I are reaching the end. I hate to think of all I\u2019m going to miss when I\u2019m gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

I know exactly what she means.<\/p>\n

My writing\u2019s been interrupted this morning by phone calls from both my sons. Jack sent me his resume to proof read. He\u2019s got projects to finish as the school year winds down, internships to apply for, a job he\u2019s hoping to have a crack at. Henry checked in on his lunch break, calling from Louisville en route to Ohio. He\u2019s got three more weeks on tour and playing in a different city every night is still a thrill for him.<\/p>\n

Nothing makes me happier than hearing from my children. As Barbara Kingsolver writes, “Kids don’t stay with you if you do it right. \u00a0It’s the one job where, the better you are, the more surely you won’t be needed in the long run.” \u00a0True enough. \u00a0But every text lifts my heart a little and a phone call just to say “hi”\u00a0is\u00a0even better.\u00a0\u00a0I love knowing\u00a0simply\u00a0from the tone of a\u00a0voice that, for today anyway, all is well.<\/p>\n

And I can\u2019t imagine missing any of it, either. I can\u2019t wait to see where my sons\u2019 careers will take them, who they\u2019ll meet and fall in love with, where they will land, whether they, too, will become parents. Someday, I want to hold a grandchild in my arms. And it goes without saying: I\u2019ll want to be around to see that child grow up.<\/p>\n

M<\/span>y own parents recently sold the home where my brother and I were raised. They\u2019re building a small retirement cottage on a pond just a couple of miles from our house \u2013 close by, so we can go back and forth as many times a day as we wish. Or, as many times a day as we need to. No one\u2019s really talking about it, but we know the chapter we\u2019re in now will come to a close. The family plot-line is bound to become more complicated. Does anyone survive their eighties without some kind of surprise or setback?<\/p>\n

In the meantime, I feel blessed to have my parents nearby. For the truth is, time is having its way with all of us. As my sons make their way into adult lives of their own, I have no choice but to confront the evidence of my own encroaching old age. Bodies break down and hair turns gray and minds aren\u2019t quite as sharp as they were. My husband Steve, nine years older than I am, endures a creaky knee without complaint. He buys a senior ticket at the movie theater and then adjusts his hearing aids to be in synch with the sound system. (At least, since he got them, our dinner table conversation has grown softer, easier, more intimate.) I dab concealer under my eyes and try to ignore the wrinkles deepening at the corners of my mouth. My mom just laughs when I confess how much I spend on a jar of face cream. She knows there\u2019s no stopping the vicissitudes of time.<\/p>\n

For now, though, minor aches and pains aside, we are all fine. And this mere fact of life itself, of human resilience and fortitude, is mysterious and gratifying enough. We have each other. We take care of each other. We show up for each other. The days are good, and the loving and the caring flow both ways.<\/p>\n

And here\u2019s the best thing: I\u2019m a mother, yes, but that\u2019s only half of it. When I need to, I can still just be a daughter, too.\u00a0There is nothing lovelier or more precious to me right now than this.\u00a0I am allowed, for a while longer,\u00a0to inhabit\u00a0both of these roles at once.\u00a0And not a day goes by that I’m not grateful.<\/p>\n

Mother\u2019s Day is around the corner. If you\u2019re lucky enough to still have your mother, or if there\u2019s a woman in your life who has ever offered you a kind maternal hand, I hope you\u2019ll let her know how grateful you are. Mother\u2019s Day is the perfect time to forgive your mom for being flawed and to celebrate her for being human. We may have trouble putting our love and our gratitude into words, but actions speak for themselves. (So do something nice!)<\/em><\/p>\n

This year, in honor of Mother\u2019s Day, I\u2019m offering personalized, signed, gift-wrapped copies of all of my books at special discounted rates. Details below.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

\n

books!<\/em>\u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/h3>\n

signed, sealed, delivered, they\u2019re yours <\/span><\/h3>\n

\u2013- in time for mother\u2019s day<\/span><\/h3>\n

\"IMG_2078\"Want to order a signed book (or several) for the special moms in your life?<\/strong>\u00a0It’s easy!<\/strong> Here\u2019s how:<\/strong><\/p>\n

1. Click here<\/a>.<\/strong><\/p>\n

(Note: This link will brings you to my own landing\u00a0page on my husband\u2019s website, Steven Lewers & Associates.\u00a0 Steve sells beautiful posters, note cards, and laminated nature identification guides. And because his business is all set up to take online orders and fulfill them quickly, he\u2019s kindly offered to handle this special sale\u00a0for me. While you’re there, feel free to browse his offerings, too!)<\/p>\n

2. Want your book(s) personalized for a special person?\u00a0Send me an email at klewers@tds.net.<\/a>\u00a0 Include the book title, the name for the inscription,\u00a0and\u00a0any special message you’d like me to write.<\/p>\n

3.\u00a0If I don\u2019t hear from you via email, I\u2019ll simply sign your\u00a0book(s), gift-wrap them, and have them\u00a0sent to the address specified.<\/p>\n

4.\u00a0For Mother\u2019s Day only, I\u2019m offering a special price<\/strong> that includes free gift-wrap.<\/p>\n

5. Hurry!<\/strong> \u00a0Deadline for all orders is May 1!<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My mom and I just spent ten days together at my parents\u2019 house in Florida. We didn\u2019t go anyplace and we didn\u2019t do much. What I most loved about our time was that it was so quiet, so spacious, and so much our own. Introverts by nature, my mother and I have this in common […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":15183,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[17,3,22,39,14],"tags":[302],"class_list":{"0":"post-14184","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-acceptance","8":"category-aging-2","9":"category-change","10":"category-midlife","11":"category-soul-work","12":"tag-mothers-day","13":"entry"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/600x600.png?fit=600%2C600","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14184","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14184"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14184\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15183"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14184"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14184"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14184"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}