Sunday, May 10, 2015


Jack's Mother's Day card included a poem thanking me for the things I do: make dinner, drive him around, play basketball with him. These little glimpses into how my kids see me are at times comical and at times humbling. I had no idea he appreciated my basketball playing so much.

I'm thirty eight years old and I've now lived half my life without my mom. My memories grow fuzzier with every year that passes and all of the new memories I'm storing. I remember that she wore a blue bathrobe that always had kleenex in the pockets. She used hand lotion religiously. She and I decided that sandwiches always taste better if someone else makes them, so we always made them for each other. When I was in high school she would come home on her lunch breaks during the summer and we would watch Days of Our Lives and eat cottage cheese. She had beautiful feet.

My brother and I were theatrically afraid of bees. When they got trapped in our house, she would assume an alter ego (De-Bee!) and wield two flyswatters to valiantly slay the offending insects.

She never played basketball with me. I am also fairly certain that she and her friends did not waste their time questioning their ability to mother us. I'm pretty sure that they just woke up in their Pinterest-free worlds and got the hell to work doing whatever felt right. I imagine that defining yourself as a mother back then was a lot simpler than it is today. But I'll never get to hear her thoughts on this.

I have friends who free-range, I have friends who helicopter. I have friends who push and friends who nudge gently. I drive my kids around from activity to activity a lot more than I'd like to. I wish my kids would eat more vegetables. I compare myself to strangers on the internet and catch myself feeling superior or inadequate. I wonder what my kids will remember about me.

 I wear a purple bathrobe with kleenex in the pockets. It's a good thing too, because my eyes well up when my kids present me with my Mother's Day cards. Some of it is simply sappy sentimentality (I get this from my mom), but with each Mother's Day comes a familiar empty pang that gets swallowed into the happy tears.

Today we went hiking.

Yes, earbuds. Earbuds!

And then, of course, I played basketball with Jack.


  1. So beautiful. I thought about you and your mom today. I wish she was here to see the amazing mom you are today. So thankful to be able to do motherhood with you my friend.

  2. You are a great mom. Debbie would be very proud. I sure am.
    Love you. Doug

  3. What a truly beautiful post and equally beautiful family.
    I love the memories of your mother. I'm sure she'd be very proud of the mother that you are.
    Thank you for sharing.

  4. As always so beautifully written. I cried at my sons school reading his filled in answers to questions about me. On was - My mom is beautiful... "when she tucks me into bed." That little glimpse into his mind thinking im beautiful at that moment when i feel like im so run down and tired has changed how i feel about myself at night now. Its so refreshing to hear what they think of us. And a reminder to not put pressure on what others think : )

  5. Beautiful post that tugged at my heart strings for you Cassadie - from one mother to another I'm sending you some hugs ((())) I bet your Mum is very proud of the Mother you have become. Lovely family photos xxx

  6. Oh my goodness! I loved that post! You are so eloquent with your words! Thank you for sharing such sweet thoughts

  7. Really, really love this post.
    Brought a tear to my eye and made me think too.
    Mostly, how life can get so busy and how we shouldn't ever forget for a moment the truly important things (our kiddos.)

  8. This is really wonderful. I teared up a little while reading it...=] Happy belated Mothers Day!

  9. Cassadie, you are a gifted writer, and photographer. Thank you for posting! I appreciate your musings about motherhood: your experiences with your mom, and as mother of your children. At the age of 64 1/2 and especially since the death of my husband six years ago I am increasingly finding myself being mothered by my adult children...strange, precious, and irritating :) Mercy! But how amazing I find the process of being born, nurtured, and bearing children to nurture! xx

  10. this brought me to tears as many of your other posts do. i am so thankful for your writing. i feel almost like i come away a better person after reading your perspective. i know you don't post often, but you truly post quality... your blog is one of my favorites. thank you for sharing your wonderful thoughts.