My childhood can best be described as chaos…but good chaos. We lived in a one and a half bathroom house, which means six people shared one shower. There were three bedrooms upstairs and one bedroom in the basement, which means my sister and I shared a room until I was 13 years old. I graduated into my own room when my parents became so tired of the sisterly in-fighting that they separated us and made my brothers room together despite their nine year age difference. Looking back on this time and comparing it to my own experiences as a mother, I can only look back in awe at how my mother handled it all.

My mom and dad were both teachers, my dad also a coach. He coached every sport season, refereed or umpired multiple sports, and made sure he was at every one of our activities as well. In other words, my dad was gone a lot. My mother, in traditional fashion, held down the fort at home. We had a color-coded calendar growing up that captured all our practices, events, activities, and responsibilities each day. My color was purple. The calendar looked like a Jackson Pollack painting, with a splattering of all the primary and secondary colors of the rainbow. My mother would get up every morning early and be out the door before any of us were awake, making her way to the next town to teach first grade. My dad was responsible for getting us to school, which could be quite a challenge. I often fought him tooth and nail to get dressed, something I can only appreciate now with my own daughter’s stubbornness. My mother would teach all day and then come home, prepare dinner, get us to our afternoon and evening activities, and then make sure we did our homework and got to bed at a decent hour. Only then was she able to do the dishes, the laundry, and any school work such as grading papers for the night. She spoke often about being up until 1:00 a.m. finishing laundry before falling into bed, only to repeat it all the next day.

My parents were teachers in Nebraska which means they didn’t have a lot of money. As kids, we were allowed to purchase clothes once per year, prior to school starting. We hopped in the car, went to JCPenney’s, and found the cheapest jeans and outfits along with new shoes. I think we each had a budget of around $100, which wouldn’t go very far nowadays. But my mom did have the luxury of spending summers with us. We would be in and out of the house all summer long, running around the neighborhood, riding bikes to the pool, and taking our one vacation a year, usually to Colorado for family reunions or to Adventureland or some theme park close by…anything that was drivable because flying as a family of six wasn’t an option.

When I look back, I actually revel in the chaos of our house because there was never loneliness. Someone was always around to play with or talk to. My siblings and I used to wrestle, play games, play house or with dolls, or wander the neighborhood looking for a basketball pick-up game or taking adventures along the creek behind our house. Inevitably, there was often times yelling and fighting in our house, which could stress me out and cause anxiety, but there was also laughter and joy. My parents would tease and joke with us and create an environment of family and love. The word “love” was never spoken, not in our house, but we felt it through actions, hugs, and the fact that we were taken care of and tended to. We never wanted for anything. I don’t know why “I love you” was a difficult sentence in our house. It could be because my parents’ upbringings didn’t involve that phrase either and so they weren’t comfortable using it, but I never felt unloved.

I used to hold some resentment towards my mother for times in our growing up when I felt she yelled too much. As an empath, I internalized all of those negative emotions and they seeped into my being as a statement of my imperfections, causing insecurities I would later have to deal with. They also created in me a habit of lashing out through yelling in my own marriage, something I have since recognized and changed in myself. I rarely yell nowadays, though still imperfect. As an adult with only one (though strong-willed) child, I now understand all the stress and overwhelming emotions my mother likely operated under. My parents were always financially strapped, providing for four kids on a lower middle class dual income. My mother carried the majority of the load at home, keeping our house in order, disciplining us kids, making sure we were fed and carted to all of our many activities that my parents never denied us despite the cost. Being our mother was a full-time job on top of my mother’s already time-consuming job of being a dedicated teacher. And as a perfectionist herself, being a teacher caused its own stress for her. The burden my mother carried went unrecognized most of the time, just surviving each day and sacrificing her own mental health and well-being to be present for us. My mother did what every working or stay-at-home mom does, she survived…many times exhausted and overwhelmed.

My own experience as a mother is a little bit different. Have I had my emotional and overwhelming challenges? Absolutely…especially with the added element of being a single mom (though I have a very supportive, involved, and active ex-husband to help). For one thing, I only have one child. I never planned on having only one, but I think subconsciously I chose this on some level because I honestly can’t imagine having more than one now. Coming from the chaotic household that I did, I relish my quiet alone time, and I appreciate that I can give all of my emotional support to my daughter without being pulled in other directions. Sometimes I wish I had a son, but it wasn’t meant to be and I am at peace with that. In five more years, I will be an empty-nester, and I will have the ability at a young age to carve my path going forward and do the things I have always wanted to do but couldn’t due to motherhood.

What I have never told my mother, because being outwardly emotionally available is difficult in our family unit, is that I understand now how difficult it must have been for her to mother us four children while carrying the majority of the load at home and also bringing in a second income. I would not have been able to handle it with as much grace as my mother did. She truly is amazing and one thing I recognize more than anything is the sacrifice both my mother and father have made over the years to ensure that us kids were successful and taken care of. They continue to step up in a myriad of ways when they could have washed their hands of the parenting gig a long time ago. As an adult, I still have active parents in my life, and I say this with nothing but gratitude, especially as I have hit a few hurdles along my path. My parents have taken me in a few times since initially leaving their house for college. And they have never wavered in their support of me and my aspirations. They are active in my daughter’s life and their support continues through her growth. I know my parents worry about leaving me without a partner, but they need not worry. I can take care of myself. I will be okay…better than okay…I will take their lead and continue creating a life for myself that is driven by love and purpose, and I will do what needs to be done to survive. And because of the path they laid for me, I will not only survive but thrive…and leave an even greater future for my own daughter, with their love and support. Thank you, Mom. I love you.