Friday, April 2, 2010

The Stain of a Mother's Love

How do you view your stretch-marks? When my head is screwed on straight and I have proper appreciation for all of my blessings, I consider them a badge of motherhood honor. I try to think that they are the record of the amazing things my body has done, and tell a bit about the life this body has lived, sort of like the rings of a tree trunk.

Today I added another badge that mattered to me...egg dye stained hands from making Easter eggs for the first time with Big Kidlet. So what, families do it every year, what's the big deal? Well in my family, nope we didn't. I vaguely remember some Easter egg hunts attended as a child, but for the most part it was a non-holiday in my household. I remember when I started to spend significant time with my now husband's family, I just really didn't get all the hoopla about Easter. I understood the religious import in theory, but not in an applicable way.

There is one exception to this. I have a distinct memory from a time when I couldn't have been much older than Big Kidlet is now. It is a resonant memory of dyeing Easter eggs with a woman I called "Nana." She was a family friend, who basically adopted me as an honorary grandchild. At some point not long after, my parents decided that Nana had some issues with driving and chain smoking that made it not a good idea for me to hang out with her, and she disappeared from my life. But I distinctly remember having fun and feeling loved in that hazy memory of brightly colored eggs in an unknown kitchen.

I've felt like a giant mommy slacker when it comes to celebrating holidays because it just is abnormal to me from my upbringing. So, it was a big deal, this small thing of some dye and some hard boiled eggs.

I ran around town doing some errands after, and would catch sight of my natty stained fingers and feel the need to explain to the cashier that I had been dyeing eggs with my son that afternoon. I was the only one who really understood why I said that with a distinct note of pride. I knew I had expressed my love for my child and wore my badge of motherhood honor.

Photo by thisisbossi

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