*the gratitude-a-thon

There are lots of things I like about blogging. I have always felt happier when I write everyday. I feel better when I am, at least, noticing one thing every 24 hours and really appreciating the hell out of it. And it has allowed me to meet some really super cool women.

I don’t know the statistical breakdown, but I’m guessing maybe more women than men read blogs, and probably more women than men read my blog. And while the WordPress numbers tell you how many people are reading your blog, and what country they’re from, they don’t tell you stuff like gender, age, or whether they dye their hair (which would just be fun to know for absolutely no reason).

Anyway, I re-connected with a mom I met through soccer many years ago, because of this here blog. I always really liked her when I sat with her on the sidelines screaming for our daughters, but with kids in different schools, we didn’t get to see each other much. She is an exceptional photographer. And several years ago she was telling me about a project, in which she was going to do a photo exhibit of teenage girls in their rooms. We were brainstorming names on the soccer field, when I told her about one of my most favorite books when I was little–“A Girl and Her Room.” She loved it. (And actually went on to use it when the exhibit was published as a book years later.) I loved the idea of capturing girls in their most private place. And although my daughter Ally was only 11 at the time, I gave Rania a bunch of names of girls I knew who were teenagers that I thought would be interesting subjects for her project. Then our girls pursued different teams, and I never saw her anymore, even though we live five minutes from each other. Not even at Whole Foods, my home away from home. But I did ask her for one of her books for an auction I was working on and she generously donated one. Anyway, our re-connection was really because of Facebook and then the blog on Facebook. One day I got a message from her asking me if I might be interested in being part of her new project which was like the “girl” project, but instead of girls, it was going to feature  women smack in the middle of their lives. Of course I said yes, because 1) I’m mad for her work. 2) I’ve always really liked her. 3) I am smack in the middle of my iife.

And so I went about finding a bunch of friends and acquaintances that I thought might be up for a little photo session with Rania also. She was really happy I was sending her names, and a little surprised by my help, but I was excited by the whole idea and felt inspired by it, so I wanted to get other women involved. Middle age power!

One of the women I suggested,  was again, a sort of mutual acquaintance that I knew through many people, but didn’t really know at all until she started reading the blog on Facebook and commenting.  I found her to be really funny, and well, we all know how I feel about funny. Anyway, I gave Rania her name and they met, and as I predicted, they hit it off from the minute they laid eyes on each other.

Monday we decided we should all have lunch together. And so we met at Pomodoro, one of my most favorite restaurants ever, and instantly we were into three conversations at the same time. Rania was born in Lebanon and has a beautiful voice with an accent. And Luciana is Brazilian and also has a gorgeous accent (I was born in Connecticut, so no matter what I say doesn’t sound as good as what they say, but that’s just the geographical cards I got dealt!)  Anyway, we were talking about Rania’s project, and the blog and how both had created situations in which we got to know each other. We hit a bunch of other subjects in rapid fire, and then, I told them about the fact that I’d been very upset that day because my husband who has an autoimmune arthritis had been having a particularly difficult flare (I told them not so much because I had that level of intimacy with them, but more because I felt so off, and like I wasn’t really being myself.)I might have cried a little, too (I cried a river to one of my close friends in the morning, while walking around the reservoir, so my tear ducts were primed). I knew I shouldn’t have shared so much the minute I did, but their response was so warm, and so loving, you’d think I’d have known them all my damn life. Walks and wine and calls and support were generously and genuinely offered, like the plates of bread the waiter kept bringing and we kept eating. (Did we eat two plate of bread, ladies, or is it my imagination?!) It was kind of extraordinary. But in a way it wasn’t extraordinary, because the very reason that these women appreciated a blog about being grateful, and that Rania had this idea of doing a photo essay on women who were in the middle, and that Luciana and I were open to being photographed for this project, said something about all us. And that something was the very reason they could rally around me, a new friend, with such compassion.

I’ve also had some other encounters with awesome women because of the blog. Some that I knew slightly, and some that i didn’t know at all.

Anyway, today I’m grateful to the gratide-a-thon.  Because it’s helped me get to know lots of new and interesting girls. I’ve always said that I think, life is all about the connections we make and the relationships we create. They are everything. Without knowing it, my gratitude, has helped me to create more of them. And for me, I’m not sure there’s anything I could appreciate more.

My mom has been gone for a long time now (22 years). But that doesn’t mean that I haven’t been mothered since her departure. Aside from her husky voice, which has an oceanside cottage in my head, and makes me laugh, and often guides my moral compass, I have had a lot of mommying from generous relatives and friends over the years. It’s particularly hard not to have a mom when you become a mom, and luckily many people were at the ready, understanding how painful and lonely that can be. Today, I want to say thank you to them. I want to say “Happy Mother’s Day,” because there were times, when being orphaned was not pretty and not fun, but you made it prettier and funner (and yes, I know this isn’t a word) and my appreciation runs deep.

My Aunt Chris, one of my mom’s besties, has always been right there for me, head cheerleader, ready for a good conversation, a pat on the back, a memory of my mother we could laugh or cry about. She played grandma to my kids and made me feel less of the loss of my own maternal link when I was in desperate need of the kind of nurturing only a mother can give. Plus, she and I have always wondered if we were actually related, because we share so many physical characteristics. She is my Aunt by marriage, but in my book, she is blood.

My cousin Barbara was very close to my mom and losing her was a terrible loss for her, too. But she was present for me and helped me through some of the difficult and sad times in my children’s early childhoods, when not having a mother was intensely painful. With gifts and cards, and calls and visits, Barbara gave me some much needed mothering, and my kids some amazing attention.

My college friend Jane played mom to me a lot when my mom first died. For a year, I battled the tears and pain of her loss (adding to the sadness was finding out I was infertile, and that my mother-in-law had left my father-in-law for her high school boyfriend and was now living in Hawaii all within a month of my mom’s death–good times). Jane would make me laugh, let me cry, pop over when I needed a hug, and in general dole out the kind of love my mom would have given me, if only she weren’t dead. She never had kids, but for a few years there, she had me.

My sisters, Susan and Joni have always taken care of me. Without those two, losing my mom would have been intolerable. What would I have done without my sister Susan bringing sacks full of gifts for the kids on Christmas Even (nothing in said sack with less than 500 pieces, by the way), celebrating birthdays and holidays with my children, and always keeping my mom alive by talking about her, so that my kids at least got some sense of this woman who was so special, but that they would never meet. My sister Joni was the person who was there with me everyday visiting my mom in the hospice and helping her to let go. It was a collaboration I will never forget. And through the years, she has been with me for the birth of both of my children, and every significant and insignificant event in my life. I can’t really imagine life without her.

There have been others. Every good friend I’ve ever had has been mom to me at one time or another. Because when you lose your mom, you get to choose your mom. And if you’re lucky, like I’ve been, replacements are there when you need them. Thanks to all of those who showed up for me over the years, for sharing your love with me and making me feel like I had a mother, even when I didn’t. It mattered.